Every day, I pray my sister survived the wasteland–and that the bond between us will be enough for me to find her.
One hundred and sixty-seven years ago, a solar coronal mass ejection devastated civilization. In the blink of an eye, modern technology died. Destroying the grid might not have brought about our end, but the solar superstorm blighted the land and made us sick. After the crisis, lawlessness ruled, and societies fell. This is the hellish world my sister Ash and I grew up in. If it’s not the landscape trying to kill you, the wailers who roam the wasteland at night will.
Now our home, The Park, teeters on the brink of extinction. When the annual shipment of supplies from Low Tide outpost failed to arrive, my sister led a small scouting party to find out what happened.
But she never came back. No one did.
I can either hope for a miracle or mourn her for dead. I can’t live with either option. The elders won’t let me leave. But nothing will keep me from Ash. The unexpected arrival of The Dead Troupe–part-nomads, part-performers–offers an unexpected opportunity to find her.
Now I just need to survive the sunburnt earth where the wailers roam and none but the Dead Troupe survive.