Leveling up in Dystopia

Chapter 8, Terms Of Survival.

Aisha handed Shihab a half-eaten chocolate bar her last one with a stubborn frown when he tried to refuse.

"You need energy more than we do," she said, pressing it into his calloused hands. "You’re the one searching all day."

Rima nodded, curled up against his side like a kitten. "And you’ll find them. You’re strong. Strong people don’t need to steal."

Shihab’s throat tightened. He unwrapped the bar slowly, the chocolate smudged on the foil. "I hope you’re right," he murmured.

"You know we are," Aisha declared, kicking a pebble across the floor. "Right, Rima?"

"Right!" The little girl grinned, her missing front tooth making the word whistle.

For the first time in days, Shihab laughed. The sound felt foreign in his chest.

Three days later, the city’s ruins smelled of wet ash and rust. Shihab found an abandoned office building, the windows were broken and half of the building was destroyed. He went inside out of curiosity. He walked around and carefully searched for any sign of life, then he heard a voice.

"Shihab? Is that you?"

He spun, weapon raised, only to freeze. A lanky figure with a familiar big head stepped into the light, his younger brother Ayham’s best friend since middle school. The guy’s leather jacket was streaked with blood, but not his own.

"Tariq?" Shihab lowered the gun, heart hammering. "You scared me."

Tariq’s face twisted. He glanced over his shoulder before dragging Shihab behind an unstable wall. "Sorry, But I've got to tell you something important… your brother, he disappeared the night the zombies showed up. Later I found out he joined Qasim’s crew."

The name hit like a slap. Qasim is the leader of the Black Vipers, a gang that ran arms deals before the apocalypse made business booming.

Shihab grabbed Tariq’s collar. "Why?"

"I don't know. Your mom…" Tariq swallowed. "She begged him to stay. But Qasim offered him protection, guns, and said he’d pay him well. I Don't know how Ayham got caught up in their business, I told him not to do it but he didn't listen." A gunshot echoed in the distance, cutting him off. "Look, he changed his number after. No one’s heard from him since the Vipers’ hideout got overrun last week."

Overrun. The word buzzed in Shihab’s skull. He released Tariq, hands shaking. "Where?"

"Old textile factory by the river, but" Tariq flinched as another shot rang out. "It’s crawling with zombies now. And if your brother is alive…" He didn’t finish. They both knew what Qasim demanded in exchange for his protection.

Shihab stared at the broken glass under his boots. Zombies, apocalypse and now gangs. His mother and younger brothers were missing, his brother was caught up in gang war. Things just couldn't get worse for his family.

Tariq pressed a crumpled photo into his hand, Ayham at a rooftop party, grinning, Qasim’s arm around his shoulders like a vice. "If you find him… tell him I’m sorry." Then he vanished into the rubble.

Shihab pocketed the photo. Somewhere, his family waited for him, and he swore he would find them.

"Strong people don’t need to steal." Aisha's words echoed in his mind.

strength, he realized, came in forms he hadn’t yet dared to wield.

The blue light of the system flickered to life before Shihab's eyes as he crouched in the ruins. Dust particles floated through the air, catching the eerie glow as words materialized:

[NEW TASK OFFERED

Objective: Survive 72 hours in current zone.

Reward: Verified location of your family.

Failure penalty: Location data will be permanently erased.]

Shihab's breath caught in his throat. His fingers trembled as they hovered over the virtual accept button.

Three days. In this hellscape. Bur on the other hand he doesn't have to steal. No betraying his morals. Just pure, brutal survival.

He swallowed hard, tasting blood from his split lip. Somewhere outside, a chorus of guttural moans signaled another roaming pack of infected.

With a deep breath, he pressed ACCEPT.

The system pulsed once, then displayed a new message:

"COUNTDOWN INITIATED: 71:59:59

Recommended survival strategy: Move northeast to high-ground positions."

As the numbers began ticking down in the corner of his vision, Shihab tightened the straps on his backpack. The weight of his rifle suddenly felt heavier.

Somewhere out there, his family was waiting. And now he had a deadline.