The sky hung low in a bruised shade of purple, as if the day itself had been beaten down. Smoke drifted lazily across the ruins, floating like tired ghosts over what used to be a neighbourhood. Ababeel and Habeel moved with the careful silence of stray cats—slow, controlled, as if even the cracked pavement might scream if they stepped too hard.
They slipped behind burnt-out vans, toppled trash bins, and the hollow shells of cars that no longer remembered being driven. Somewhere in the distance, the marching soldiers kept moving—a rhythmic clink of metal against metal echoing through the broken streets.
Ababeel's eyes swept over the wreckage, her voice barely more than a trembling breath."My whole neighbourhood is destroyed…"
Beside her, Habeel tried to turn his heavy, uneven breathing into something that sounded tough. He failed."Just… think of it like a zombie apocalypse movie," he whispered. "You know… the part where the heroes survive because of their… uh… strategic fitness."
She stopped dead to stare at him."Strategic fitness?"
He puffed out his chest proudly—then immediately teetered backwards because the massive backpack nearly toppled him over. He saved himself by grabbing a broken light pole and pretending that it was part of the plan."Totally a thing," he insisted. "Happens in all the movies."
They walked. Andwalkedd.Time stretched thin like a rubber band on the verge of snapping.Bags grew heavier, straps carving into their shoulders. Dust clung to their legs, mixing with exhaustion until every step felt borrowed.
Habeel's knees buckled for a moment.He masked it by adjusting the bag—then stumbled again and coughed dramatically to cover it.
Ababeel lifted a brow.He pointed at her immediately, defensive:
"If you're about to say we should rest, don't worry. I'm cool. Super okay. Absolutely fine."
She crossed her arms."We should rest."
The relief that washed over him was so intense it was almost audible."…Yes," he exhaled. "Exactly what I was thinking. I was just… testing you."
She ignored that, pointing at a half-collapsed building nearby. Its roof had been blown open like a cracked eggshell, smoke still curling from the edges.
"Can we rest there?" she asked."They already destroyed it. They won't bomb it again, right?"
She squinted thoughtfully."Technically… technically we can hide there."
Habeel stared at the ruins, horrified."Technically," he repeated, "this is exactly how people die in horror movies."
She shot him a sharp look."You're the one who said zombie apocalypse. This fits the theme."
He adjusted his bag dramatically, like a tired warrior accepting a doomed quest."Fine. But if a ceiling chunk falls on me, write something heroic on my grave."
She smirked."Sure. I'll write: 'Here lies a thief. Died because gravity had had enough of him.'"
"That is NOT heroic!"
She walked ahead, unbothered."Come on before the soldiers catch up."
He followed her with a muttered grumble."Gravity… seriously?"
Together, they slipped into the broken shell of the building—shadows swallowing them whole as the distant stomp of soldiers marched through what remained of the street.