Ruins of Mankind - The Map

 Chapter 5 — Setting Out

Morning broke hard and bright over the settlement, the kind of sun that didn’t warm so much as glare. Mara slipped her sunglasses over her eyes as she stepped into the dusty street, the lenses turning the harsh light into something she could bear. The clothes Joy Waites had picked out for her fit better than she expected—soft from age, but tough, practical, well-washed. A worn canvas jacket, faded grey trousers, sturdy boots. She felt… almost normal in them.

Her shotgun hung comfortably over her shoulder, the familiar weight a small reassurance in this strange new life.

The settlement was already humming with the quiet chaos of morning. People moved between makeshift market stalls. A man hammered at a piece of metal on an improvised anvil. Children ran along the street chasing a half-deflated soccer ball. Everything felt alive, despite the ruins surrounding them.

As she approached the front gate, she saw Sheriff Waites leaning against a mud-spattered truck, one boot crossed over the other, arms folded as he listened to someone.

A young woman in a faded flower-print dress stood in front of him, hands balled on her hips. She was pretty in a windswept, sun-freckled kind of way—early twenties, maybe. Her dark hair was braided over one shoulder, the tail swaying in frustration as she talked.

Mara slowed her steps and stopped near the back of the truck, close enough to listen without being intrusive.

“Just this once, Dad,” the young woman insisted. “I’m not a kid anymore! I help out on perimeter shifts, you know that. And I know the terrain better than half the men you’re bringing.”

Sheriff Waites sighed, rubbing a hand across his jaw. “Angela… I said no.”

“But why?” she shot back, clearly not ready to give up. “You’ve taken people younger than me outside the walls before. You’re just worried because it’s her lander.” She jerked her chin slightly in Mara’s direction without actually looking to see if she was there.

Waites shook his head firmly. “This isn’t up for debate.” His voice was gentle, but absolute. “What’s out there isn’t predictable. You’re smart, and brave, and I trust you. But this run is too dangerous.”

Angela frowned, her frustration giving way to something softer—worry more than anger. “You’ve been going outside the walls more and more lately…”

“That’s my job,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ll have your time, Annie. Just not today.”

“...Fine,” she muttered, though she clearly hated it.

Waites gave her a small smile, the kind only a father could offer, then turned—and spotted Mara.

His entire expression shifted: professional respect, mixed with something lighter, easier.

“Morning,” he called out warmly.

“Morning, Sheriff,” Mara replied as she stepped forward. “Hope I’m not late.”

“Right on time,” he said. Then, taking a moment to look her over, he added with a hint of approval, “Clothes fit?”

“Surprisingly well,” Mara said with a small smile. “And I slept the best I have since landing.”

He nodded once, pleased.

“And,” she continued, reaching into her jacket pocket, “I brought something that might help.”

She unfolded a small, weather-worn map—handmade, drawn from memory. She held it out to him.

“This is the route I took from my lander to where your people… ah—found me,” she said lightly, trying not to make the moment awkward. “I marked landmarks, rough distances. It’s not perfect, but it should get us close.”

Waites took the map carefully, holding it between his fingertips like something valuable. He scanned it, eyebrows rising.

“This is… damn good work,” he said, sounding genuinely impressed. “You’ve got an eye for detail.”

“Occupational hazard,” she replied. “Astronaut training involves a lot of topographical analysis. And drawing maps was one of the few things I could do while I waited for rescue that never came.”

He looked up sharply, a flicker of guilt or sympathy crossing his eyes.

Mara pushed past it with a small nod. “Anyway. Hope it helps.”

He folded the map neatly and handed it back. “It helps a lot. And it settles it—” he tapped the truck with one hand, “—you’re up front with me. Navigator’s seat.”

He opened the passenger door for her, an old-fashioned gesture that somehow felt right in this broken world.

Mara climbed inside, the seat creaking beneath her. She pulled the door shut with a metallic thunk.

Behind them, five settlement volunteers climbed into the truck bed—two carrying rifles, one with binoculars slung around his neck, one adjusting a radio pack, and another tightening the straps of her vest. All looked tough, competent, and ready.

Waites got behind the wheel, gave Angela one last reassuring nod, and turned the ignition.

The engine coughed, shuddered, then roared to life.

The gate creaked open.

The world outside yawned wide and empty before them.

“Alright,” Waites said, glancing at Mara with a small grin that made him look ten years younger, “show me where we’re headed, astronaut.”

Mara leaned forward, map in her hands, heart beating fast with a tangle of nerves and excitement.

“Take the north road,” she said. “I’ll guide you from there.”

The truck rolled out of the settlement, dust rising behind them like a fading trail.

Their search for the lander had begun.