The skeletons of buildings still stand in Chicago. They're nothing but the crumbling ruins of what was once a thriving civilization. The concrete blocks that held them up have given way, and many have collapsed and are leaning on another's side.

Despite its ghostly beauty, rumor has it that it's home to only bandits and murderers.

Before I left, Grey told me to avoid it. That even if I thought I needed to go in for supplies, to just stay clear.

I planned on doing as he said. Grey was not one to stretch the truth about anything, and he never told anything but.

I crouched low on the hilltop a few miles outside of the city, admiring the silhouettes of the buildings for a moment.

I turned away from the city and began to move away, distancing myself from the filth that had overtaken the once bustling metropolis.

Once I was a safe distance away, I headed east, towards the coastline. If there were ever a way to make it home, it would be there.

Even with the sun overhead, the cool fall weather made for pleasant travelling conditions, even on foot. I knew it wouldn't hold for my whole journey.

I still had a very long way to go.

I had long since arrived in the ruins of New York City. There was talk from fellow travellers of two warring settlements near these ruins. Maybe it was better to stop this war, or end the life of one side to make it easier for the other. As well equipped in skills as I was for surviving. I'd never been good at anything before this. It came naturally somehow. It was a playground of new experiences and bloodshed. But for the better of the world. It would be best to bring about civilization. Create a foundation.

I sat upon the rubble of a building that had been hit by some sort of missle. It looked like the top had crumbled and poured out onto the city floor below. The travellers had been going to a nearby trade outpost. This could mean anything, though in this world. Slaves, weapons, a great many things. It wouldn't hurt to look. Surely it was protected and well armed to sit in the ruins of a once powerful and mighty city. I hoisted myself up from the rubble and began a slow jog in the direction the travellers had gone. My body was accustomed to the labour of my equipment and the movement. Hard muscles from years of hell, once I'd been a slave, once I'd been a soldier, once I'd been nothing.

Now, I was unbowed.

After a few days walking, I find myself looking at another city, this one not as large as Chicago. It's impossible to tell the name of the town - all signs that had any indication of its name were destroyed long ago.

I decide to check for supplies in this city. I'm running low on food and water, and I'm no huntsman.

So what could it hurt?

As I walk down the main road of the city, my walking stick by my side, I keep a careful eye on my surroundings. One can never tell what's lurking in the corners of a place like this.

I stroll into a small general store on the corner of a street, hoping to find at least something of use.

The inside of the store is a mess. The shelves have been thrown everywhere, garbage litters the floor and the broken glass from the windows is still scattered across the store.

No one's been here for a while.

After a thorough search of the store, I've determined that any supplies that may have been here were looted a long time ago.

I stand in the store for a moment, scratching my head in disappointment.

This just means one more day of rationing my limited food supplies.

Suddenly, a faint sound drifts through the store.

I strain my ears, listening for the sound again. Could it have been...?

Surely not...

"Hello?" calls a woman's voice from somewhere in the street. She doesn't sound like she's in any danger.

I quietly tiptoe to the storefront, crouching just below the window. I peek over the sill to find the woman.

She's about a half a block to my right, cautiously walking down the sidewalk and looking very lost.

I clutch my walking stick, prepared to defend myself should it come down to it.

I take a deep breath, let it out, stand up and walk out into the street.

The woman looks at me and relief floods her face. Tears come to her hazel eyes as she says, "Oh, thank God! Someone else! I've been alone here for so long!"

I stand there staring at her, not moving. I've heard about traps that begin like this. I have to be more than a little cautious.

Her expression dims as she looks at me and says, "You don't believe me, do you?"

With this question, a strand of her blonde hair falls lightly in front of her face.

"You think this is a trap...don't you?" She asks sadly.

I simply stare at her, not moving at all.

By this time, her tears of joy have faded into tears of sadness. She sits down on the curb with her head in her hands and begins to weep.

At this moment, I realize that she is telling the truth. I've seen sadness as an act before, but her sadness could not have been fake.

I walked over to the woman, sat down beside her and put my arm over her shoulders, never saying a word.

After a moment of sitting beside her, she threw her arms around my neck and her weeping grew more intense.

It's not long before her crying subsides and we begin to talk.

I learn that her name was Reagan and that she'd been travelling with a group, but they had all been killed or disappeared a few months ago. Since then, she's been wandering by herself, trying to make her way to the east coast.

"The east coast?" I ask, "I'm actually headed in that direction, myself. Mind if I join you? No sense in travelling alone if we're going the same way, yeah?"

I would slow to a walk seeing several people standing about infront of a large steel door. There was a tower and a guard posted, wearing kevlar and a rifle in his hands. I reached up grabbing my mask and pulling it over my face. Better safe than sorry, I suppose. I skirted along rubble until I could see two guards sitting about at the gate. They looked moderatley bored and passed a cigarette back and forth, inhaling the smoke. Nasty habit.

I linked my fingers together cracking them at the knuckles and rolled my shoulders to pop my back. My body was sore and unset after years of abuse. I turned the corner and they looked alert, suddenly. Dropping the cigarette on a small plastic table, one walked forth while the one that had been sitting at the table stood with his hand at his belt. They both wore kevlar and wielded glocks. This settlement, or what ever it was surely had raided a police station.

Now, remained the question. Friends or foes? The one closest, looking to stop me had dirty red hair and a yellowed smile of arrogance and disregard. He held up a hand and looked down a moment before returning his gaze to me. I met it sternly. Though he surely didn't know.

"I wish to know what this complex is.." My voice would be stern and distorted by the electronic mask. They had been military issue at one point along with the rest of my apparel. It was extremely helpful in this kind of enviornment. He would raise a skeptical eyebrow but his resolve was to reply.

"This is the Great Trade Republic." He'd seem stunned at me having not known. Like I was alien for being ignorant of that fact. I smiled beneath the mask, I'd found it! How pleasent. His voice was broken, wielding a hint of a southern accent.

"May I enter?" I'd cross my arms over my chest, my right hand dipping down low towards my belt.