Chapter 1: Cinder
The old junkyard was dark and eerie so late at night. Random thrown out items were stacked high throughout the vast area. It seemed to go on for miles. The heaps rose and morphed around her. As one moved to the side, she saw Peony fighting her way out from underneath a pile. The more she ran towards her, the farther away she appeared. Peony screamed for her, shouted for her, but her efforts were futile. A wave of spare parts rose from the sea of trash and crashed down on top of her, causing sudden silence and an instantaneous still in the surrounding junk. A feeling of guilt and uselessness washed over her. She fell to her knees. The clutter around her merged together causing booming clanks and clunks. They surged upwards around her. They seemed to be closing in, slowly building up and moving towards her. It was suffocating her, entrapping her, confining her. It ensnared her in a vile, unforgettable wasteland. She felt smaller and smaller as her surroundings began to merge into large, amorphous walls and engulfed her in total darkness.

Cinder jolted up from her crude, make-shift bed, breathing hard with the feeling of cold sweat dripping down her face and back. She squeezed her eyes shut and put her hands on her forehead, her fingertips meeting in the middle. She pushed a few clumps of brown hair that had fallen out of her messy ponytail out of her face. Sighing, she opened her eyes and looked down at her watch. Great, Cinder thought. It's barely three. She was exhausted. She looked around and a moment of shock washed over her when she didn't immediately recognize her surroundings but then felt the realization sink in from the events of previous days. She still couldn't process everything that had happened, and she most definitely hadn't gotten used to the idea of sleeping in a rest area with a bunch of strangers. So much had occurred that her mind was struggling keep up. Her sleep deprivation was certainly not a helping factor in her current situation. As tired as she was at the moment, she could tell sleep wasn't going to be coming to her anytime soon.

She pushed herself up further, leaned back against the wall, and allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She studied the room around her: the cinder-block walls painted over a shade of what most likely started out as a bright shade of white and turned off-white over the years; the hard floors styled in large squares spotted with a crack here and there; the small pallets on the floor spaced out a few feet apart, each with a person lying fast asleep on top; the cardboard boxes lining the walls to the left and right, all filled with various supplies of toiletries, blankets, and pillows. It was the exact same as it had been for the past two weeks, yet it still didn't have the slightest hint of familiarity. She knew that she wouldn't become accustomed to it the first few days, but she had hoped that by this point in time it would have assumed the position of a sort of home in her mind. At least in the way that a hotel would if you stayed for a week or a place you resided in during a vacation somewhere. Of course this definitely didn't have the "feel" of a home, and it surely was not a vacation. But considering she would never be returning "home" again, she had thought that this place would have replaced it. She was wrong. Although her home wasn't the happiest of places, it was without a doubt better than this abandoned building of filthy strangers.

Cinder's only comfort in this wretched place was Iko, her best friend. Iko slept soundly in the only pallet to Cinder's right. She slept underneath a couple of quilted blankets. She was turned on her side, facing Cinder, giving her a view of a few smudges of dirt displayed across her dark skin. Her slightly-faded blue hair remained in long, small braids that fell over her shoulder. Iko was the same as always with her bright, peppy personality, but it had dimmed a little since the night at the junkyard. She closed her eyes and shook the thoughts from her head. Spiraling into a pit of self-pity was not something she needed right now. She looked over her left shoulder to the people lining up the wall. They all slept so soundly. She wondered how they did it with everything going on. There was the moans and groans of the creaky, old building... the perpetual darkness and hopelessness approaching them all... the people lost.

They were much calmer asleep than awake, that's for sure. All they could do when they were awake was complain, worry, and, in Cinder's opinion, just act completely absurd. They bumbled around talking about when supplies would run out. Of course, they wouldn't actually do anything about it. And the questions. Oh, the questions. That was the part that bothered Cinder the most. They were never helpful questions or sensible questions. Most of them were more of predictions than questions, suggesting all of the horrible, unlikely possibilities of their shortcomings. Some of them were actually incredibly selfish. Any vague suggestion Iko or I would make about going out and looking for anyone that may need help were instantly shot down with fearful prognostications. Of course that wasn't everyone; it wasn't even the majority. It was only about one-fourth of the sixty-seven people that had come to join Iko and herself. It just happened to be a very loud and opinionated fourth that gave Cinder headaches.

A group of about six or seven of the others had joined a sort of leading committee with Iko and Cinder. It helped establish some order with everything going on. They decided when they would trek to the market for supplies, who would go, where they would go, how they would get there, what they would get, how it would be rationed, and so forth. They were very helpful, but they had all appointed Cinder as a sort of leader. Iko claimed Cinder was a born natural at it, which was extremely ironic considering her past and parentage. As much as she was a "born natural" at it, being in charge of so many lives was a lot of responsibility and very stressful. She was improving as the days progressed, and almost everyday, a group of new people for her to watch over would show up at her doorstep. She always accepted them in, gave them some extra supplies and did her best to make room for them. Unfortunately, her people skills were sadly mediocre, so when she says "she accepted them in," she means "Iko greeted them and welcomed them, giving them a tour of the place in the process while Cinder dealt with the organizing, rationing, and occasional rule recital." It's not that she was bad with people necessarily, she was just a little awkward and didn't react well to gratitude or admiration, which was oddly enough how most of the citizens reacted towards her. She supposed it wasn't that strange considering she was saving their lives by taking them in and providing for them, but for some reason it was just hard for her to accept.

Cinder heard an abrupt beep and jerked out of her daze. She looked down at her watch and discovered it was 5:00 A.M. Early? Sure, but she always had lots to do, and although she wasn't much of a morning person, sitting around in the dark unable to fall asleep seemed like a more unappealing option. She clicked a side button on her watch before it could beep again and stood up. She moved her blankets and pillow around until the pallet looked about as presentable as it was going to get. She leaned over and picked up the black gloves beside her bed. She slid them on, the hem of the gloves reaching an inch or two above her wrist and the fingers cut off right before the knuckles. She always wore them; they didn't just help to hide the scars, but also the memories behind them. She pulled on her boots soundlessly and grabbing a small bag of her rationed supplies, she walked as quietly as she could across the flooring. She pushed the door open just half a foot more, cringing at the deafening sound of the rusted hinges creaking into the otherwise silent building, and slipped through the small opening.

The hallway was slightly lighter because it led into the entrance room which had doors and windows. The morning sunrise tended to peek through the spaces between the wooden boards nailed to the dirty windows. It brought a warm orange-pink light to the dull grey and white room. Cinder turned and walked the opposite way of the entrance room, towards the bathrooms, which had a reasonable amount of showers. There were two bathrooms, one for the men, and one for the ladies. Each had around five or six showers, which was a good amount for an old rest area like this one. They had managed to get the water supply going thanks to a few talented members of the little underground resistance group. Yet, Cinder had a feeling that with the gathering they were getting, the rest area was becoming much too small. They had the bathroom usage split up evenly, so it wasn't as much of a rush. With around seventy people, thirty-five showered in the morning, and thirty-five in the evening. About fifteen were women, and about twenty were men. Most of the survivors seeking refugee at the rest area were younger adults or older teenagers, from sixteen to maybe thirty-six or thirty-seven. Cinder was getting a bit nervous in regards to the amount of people that were staying there. The sleeping arrangements would still be comfortable for about thirty or so more people, and then the quarters would begin to become cramped and they may have to consider moving people to the hallway or finding out how the living conditions were in the basement, which she assumed were not good as one of the committee members had informed her that they couldn't even safely store supplies down there.

Today was actually the day that they had to restock their resources. They had just done so last week, but with all of the new residents, the supplies dwindled quickly. To avoid the worry and fear that was sure to come when everyone realized the food was running short, Cinder figured going to the market sooner was much better than later. She had scheduled a committee meeting about two hours from now at 7:30 to discuss the mission they would be taking when night hits. She knew she had to schedule it early so the group that would be going would have time to get prepared and well-rested. She hoped she'd have the time to take a nap, although she knew that was most likely not an option. She would be leading the group into the market, as usual, with Iko by her side. When discussing the first journey back to town, she had strongly protested against Iko leaving the safety of the base to help find supplies in the dangerous, zombie-infested town. All of her attempts to persuade her were to no avail. Once Iko had set her mind to do something, there was nothing anyone could do to make her do differently. That's just how she was. Iko told Cinder that if anything happened on the restocking mission, she wouldn't ask to go on any other, and after Cinder saw Iko handle herself perfectly well on the first mission, she knew Iko would be okay during all of the following ones. By the end of the trip, Iko had convinced Cinder to agree to let her go on any mission into town that they had.

When Cinder walked into the bathroom, she almost gagged at the aroma. The rest area in general smelt dusty and old, almost a mildewy scent, but the bathrooms definitely were not a pleasant smell. With around thirty women using the toilets and showers, and a considerably less amount cleaning them, the bathrooms weren't the cleanest rooms in the building. They were better than most conditions provided at the moment though, so who was she to complain? She reached the shower closest to the wall and hopped in. She let the water run over her for a bit, feeling it wash away her worries and doubts, if only for a few moments, and allowed a soft smile to place itself upon her lips. She couldn't stay in for too long. Although no one else was awake just yet, she had to honor her rule for limited shower time. Stepping out and pulling on her t-shirt, baggy cargo pants, black military-style boots, and gloves, she listened to see if anyone else had gotten up yet. She didn't hear anything, so she slipped her hair in a quick, messy ponytail and walked out of the bathroom, ready to face the day.

Was she in the middle of the zombie apocalypse? Sure. Was she nervous about having 69 lives and counting rested on her shoulders? Definitely. But was she going to let it show? Absolutely not. So she set her her shoulders back, held her chin high, put on a brave face, and walked into the hallway with a new-found confidence, ready for the day.

Author's Note:

I hope you enjoyed the first installment! I'm a bit of an amateur at this, so constructive criticism? Thanks! Let me know what you think.

~LunarticLovegood