Hi, I'm a new writer. i haven't posted my stories yet (maybe later). but I like some opinion and criticism from you all (if you're willing to) regarding my stories! Thanks! (sorry for my broken grammar.)
Hope you like it!
Content warning (strong language.)
Synopsis:
The year is 2157, and the world is a scorched map of its former self. Honestly? Good riddance.
Vika and Yodoka are two scavenger girls born in the ironically named "Hopeless War." A conflict they entirely wanted to forget, but one that left them with a lot of problems to dodge.
They are total opposites: one is a reckless chaos-gremlin raised by her dad, while the other is a quiet, chronically tired survivor raised by her mom.
Stuck together in a massive, lumbering scavenger truck, their only chaperone is Xea, an enigmatic (and occasionally passive-aggressive) AI. Together, this makeshift "family" is cruising the wasteland, chasing a rumor of a pristine, cozy "home" that probably doesn't even exist.
The journey is simple: Travel to Sector NA, across the Bering Bridge, down to District A, and keep your eyes open for anything. Easy, on paper.
But as the miles pile up and the rations dwindle, the girls realize the outside world isn't the real threat. The true test of survival is dealing with each other. Between morbidly near-death experiences and bickering over the music, Vika and Yodoka are forced to confront the secrets they've been hiding from one another.
It’s a story about the irony of life, moral erosion, impossible choices, finding the punchline in the apocalypse, and discovering that "home" might just be the people you share the front seat with. Will they ever make it to their destination? Maybe.
The road is long. But either way, one thing’s for sure that they’re not sure about a damn thing.
Volume 1: How to start
Epigraph.
[File audio opened... Source: Unknown. Playing...]
“What’s the point of having life when the life itself is just pointless and full of paradoxes? To find a meaning? To find something? Am I a ghost or just being too hard from what I should have become? How many times do humans break things? I hate you. Why me? Why you? How many times should I live to die?”
Chapter 1: Morning breakfast.
[Sector NA, Outside District E-57: Truck's cargo | 06:15 AM | 2157]
An alarm blared. It had been snoozed for fifteen minutes and now rang even louder in protest—until a hand slammed down to silence it.
"Blyat." Vika let out a long groan in Russian. "Fucking morning." She stretched her limbs like a lazy cat, joints popping.
The sunrise leaked through the dusty truck windows, reflecting off the grime on the floor. Inside, the 25-meter-square cargo hold smelled faintly of yesterday's fruit perfume mixed with sweat. It was calm, save for the steady tick-tick-tick of an old clock mounted on the wall.
Vika crawled onto the sofa in front of her, slumped against the frame and felt drained. After spitting a stray strand of hair from her mouth, she blinked until the world stopped blurring. She wiped the crust from her normal left eye, then buffed the smudge off the lens of her basic prosthetic right.
Half-asleep, Vika dragged herself into the bathroom beside her. A 3-meter-square room, large enough to fit a bathtub and a toilet. The door slid open to the right. She turned on the shower and splashed the cold water over her face and dried off with her shirt.
She went to the corner cabinet by the mirror, grabbed a comb and facial cleanser. She untangled her short, messy black hair while humming a low tune. Afterward, she worked moisturizer into the scars on her face and arms, lingering on the jagged mark in her right eye.
She should've died that day during the wolf incident. But life wanted her to suffer and now she had to deal with a lot of nightmare. All she could do was to hope it would fade. Maybe one day, it would be gone with all the nightmares.
"Good luck." She grinned a bit at the mirror, though the heavy bags under her eyes remained.
She left the bathroom, made her way to the hidden storage room in the back, the one where her sister usually did her ‘scientist work’. She walked past the kitchen section and pressed a mechanism on the wall. The door slid upward, revealing a well-placed workspace lit only by filtered sunlight.
The atmosphere inside was different from the open room outside. It was dark, tight, and somehow felt safe. Notes, wires, a toolbox, and even a plate were on the floor. But the boxes, gun racks, and scavenged things were placed neatly around the room.
She flicked on the lights at the workbench. She took her bionic eye from its charging seal and held it. Sitting down, she began her daily ritual: the swap.
With practiced movements, she eased the basic prosthetic from her right socket, wiped it with a tissue, and placed it in the drawer labeled ‘Eye A’. Then she pressed the bionic eye into place. A soft click signaled the connection. She blinked a few times, though her vision remained tethered only to the left. The bionic eye needed to be activated only when necessary, since it had a night vision system that could kill her if she left it on for 24 hours non-stop.
Back in the kitchen section. It was really just a mini-fridge, a stove, a washing machine, and a sink crammed into a 5.6-meter-square open room. Vika chugged water straight from the tap. She tossed a pan onto the stove, splashed in artificial oil, and pulled out canned rice and frozen bacon from the fridge.
Bacon, rice, and… wait. Where did that bitch go? She glanced around the cramped space. No luck. Of course.
She kicked the fridge shut, tossed the canned rice into the heater, and walked back into the "bedroom"—essentially just a multi-purpose free space.
After tossing a pillow onto the sofa and quickly folding the bedding, she reached up on her tiptoes to pull open a ceiling compartment labeled Things. With a firm tug, the panel glided open, revealing a clever, hidden compartment tucked into the roof’s hollow.
She stowed the linens inside, pulled out a folding table in one fluid motion, and set it up by the windows, dragging the sofa over to complete the room.
Through the window, she could see the quiet district in the distance—people walking, minding their business, a few police patrols rolling by.
Her mind drifted to her sister. Where is she?
She blinked and caught herself. Why would I care about that girl?
A moment later, the kitchen door slid open with a soft hiss. Yodoka climbed in, her drones hovering behind her carrying grocery bags, while she carried only her personal bag. Still in her pajamas—an oversized shirt and the arm sleeve she always wore to hide her burned skin. Her dyed grey-black hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, held by her mother's flower pin. Her brown eyes were empty.
Without a word, she set her bags down. The drones placed groceries on the counter before powering down into her bag. Yodoka pulled out a knife and a chopboard, moving with quiet efficiency.
"Morning, cold-face," Vika said, dropping bacon into the sizzling pan. The aroma escaped to the vents. "So, where you going today?"
Yodoka said nothing. She began chopping tofu with deliberate, rhythmic strokes.
What's the matter with this bitch?
"I said MORNING. Blyat." Vika rolled her eyes.
"I know," Yodoka muttered, slamming the knife a little too hard.
"Whoa, whoa—chill, sis."
"Kono gaki, I'm trying to enjoy some silence here. What's wrong with you anyway?" Yodoka muttered.
"What?" Vika's face fell. "I'm trying NICE here, you little bitch!"
Yodoka whirled around, her expression a sarcastic mask of mock cheer. "Then gooood morning, my lonely sister."
"Oh, I am doing just fineeee, lovely sister!" Vika threw the sarcasm right back. "You could have just said it earlier! Not even a week in here, and you are acting like caged monkey!"
"Funny, the monkey is talking."
"Say again!?"
Before round two could explode, a loud blast erupted from the truck's horn, making both girls freeze.
After a deadly quiet stare-off, they returned to cooking as if nothing had happened. Vika stirred the pan more quickly and cranked the heat to 200 °C. Yodoka chopped the tofu even harder, as if she were cutting a board rather than tofu.
[08:48 AM]
They sat across from each other at the cramped fold-out table. Breakfast was a tragic spread: overcooked bacon, raw tofu, and stiff rice.
Vika closed her eyes and clasped her hands. Yodoka followed suit, though more slowly. Vika led the prayer as she always did—a habit from her dad, back when prayers still meant something.
"Our Father, who art in heaven, thank you for the meal we have. Bless us with this meal. Forgive our sins, and forgive those who persecuted us, especially my rude sister—"
"Tch," Yodoka muttered.
"—In the name of Jesus. Amen."
They opened their eyes. Vika grabbed her fork. Yodoka picked up her chopsticks.
"Itadakimasu," Yodoka said quietly in Japanese, placing a piece of bacon in her mouth.
Meanwhile, Vika had already devoured her food like a goblin and was reaching for another strip. Yodoka reached for some tofu, her perfectly straight back in stark contrast to Vika's ‘shrimp-like’ slouch.
Later, when Vika tried to snag another piece, Yodoka pinned Vika's fork to the table with her own. Vika yanked back with all her force, but Yodoka had already locked it down hard.
"What now?" Vika's voice was groggy and uninterested.
"I need it too. You still have more on your plate," Yodoka said, still chewing.
"Nu," Vika said flatly in Russian. "I worked hard yesterday. So I deserve more."
Yodoka shoved the fork away. "Mama said share."
"You should eat tofu. Not bacon, you fucking diabetic! That is what Mama would say!"
"It's type 2, bitch!" Yodoka slammed her chopsticks to the table.
"Ohh, scary~" Vika put up a mock show of terror. "Yet, ironically, it doesn't make any difference to you."
"You don't even know what diabetes type IS!"
"Spare me the details, Smiley! You don't even care what you eat."
"Because I've got an insulin motor!"
"Few nanobots inside won't change a thing! You don't have a proper implant because we're fucking poor! Now shut up and eat your tofu!"
"You shut up, half cyborg!"
"It's nothing personal, you glued bones!"
"At least I don't hide my scar with a cheap moisturizer!"
"WHAT?! Have a mirror, arm-sleever! burned skin! Keeping a cold stupid face to hide the feelings, when it’s clearly DUMB—"
Suddenly, a deafening, 100-decibel screech blasted through the truck's speakers. Both sisters recoiled, clutching their ears. It kept going for nearly three seconds until it died down.
<That makes 142 times since I started living with you two,> a voice announced from the speaker, synthetic and weary. <VIKA! Are you experiencing gluttony again?>
Xea's voice echoed through the cargo hold.
"I'm hungry! It's not a sin!" Vika slammed her fork onto the table.
<And so is your sister! You two aren't animals—even animals share their food! If animals saw you fight over a piece of bacon, THEY'D EVOLVE JUST TO PUNCH YOU! Can't you have ONE normal breakfast and PUT THE BACON BACK!>
Vika grumbled, pretended to return the bacon… then shoved both pieces into her mouth with godlike speed.
Yodoka stared in disbelief. Her soul left her body.
<VIKA!?> Xea barked.
"Shut up, AI!" Vika shouted between chews.
<I swear to God,> Xea muttered. <I never agreed to be your replacement parent, and now I know why yours are dead.>
"So what?! You freaking cheap code!" Vika yelled at the ceiling speaker—a beat-up box held together with glue and nails.
"Manners, wild bear!"
"WILD BEAR?!" Vika stood up, chair scraping violently as it hit the bathroom wall. "Suka blyat! You started it first! SUSHI EATER!"
"Me?" Yodoka feigned a wounded pout. "Oh please, we know your whole personality is daddy issues!"
"FUCK YOU. JAPAN!"
"FUCK YOU. RUSSIAN!"
Their voices escalated into feral screaming until—
<ENOUGH!> Xea's voice boomed through the cargo, making the floorboards rattle. Silence covered the space again. <You're making my processing system lag—with your stupid volley mock!>
<We're on a JOURNEY, not a CONTEST!>
Another silence fell.
<If we don’t make it to any district nearby tonight, we're dead! So eat, and stop complaining!>
Then slowly, Vika sat down and continued to eat, muttering. Yodoka adjusted her posture and resumed eating.
[09:36 AM]
After a "normal" breakfast, Vika sat in the driver's seat while Yodoka ran diagnostics beside her. The engine hummed to life.
<All systems online,> Xea reported. <Fuel at 46%. We can make it to about 500 KM.>
"Did I ask?" Vika said, checking the rearview monitor.
<Sadly, I'm not talking to you.>
Vika's face went red, and she quickly looked outside to check the rearview mirrors.
"I'll check the back." Yodoka got up, tried to hold the laughter that escaped.
She opened the partition and bent down inside the cargo hold. Vika glanced back, checking whatever she was doing there.
Slow and steady, Yodoka surveyed each section, making sure everything was locked in place. She finally vanished into her workbench room. Vika tapped the seat, still looking in the same direction.
"Oi. Oka," Vika called.
No response.
"OKA!"
Yodoka emerged, quickly shoving whatever she was holding into her bag. "Y-yeah?"
"What's that?"
"Nothing, just my book." Yodoka took off her mother's flower pin, and her long hair fell slow-mo like it was dramatic.
She walked back and climbed into the passenger seat without a word, her face neutral.
Vika frowned. The hell was that?
Xea's voice came through, quieter this time. <Status check. Is everything alright back there?>
"Everything's fine," Yodoka said flatly.
Vika glanced at her sister. Something about the way she said it felt... off. Or she might be having another episode of mood swings.
<Great. We move then. We're already behind schedule.>
Vika put the truck in gear. As they rolled out, she caught one last glimpse of Yodoka in the mirror.
Her sister was staring out the window, her fingers wrapped tightly around her mother's flower pin.
End of Chapter 1.
Hope you like it!
Content warning (strong language.)
Synopsis:
The year is 2157, and the world is a scorched map of its former self. Honestly? Good riddance.
Vika and Yodoka are two scavenger girls born in the ironically named "Hopeless War." A conflict they entirely wanted to forget, but one that left them with a lot of problems to dodge.
They are total opposites: one is a reckless chaos-gremlin raised by her dad, while the other is a quiet, chronically tired survivor raised by her mom.
Stuck together in a massive, lumbering scavenger truck, their only chaperone is Xea, an enigmatic (and occasionally passive-aggressive) AI. Together, this makeshift "family" is cruising the wasteland, chasing a rumor of a pristine, cozy "home" that probably doesn't even exist.
The journey is simple: Travel to Sector NA, across the Bering Bridge, down to District A, and keep your eyes open for anything. Easy, on paper.
But as the miles pile up and the rations dwindle, the girls realize the outside world isn't the real threat. The true test of survival is dealing with each other. Between morbidly near-death experiences and bickering over the music, Vika and Yodoka are forced to confront the secrets they've been hiding from one another.
It’s a story about the irony of life, moral erosion, impossible choices, finding the punchline in the apocalypse, and discovering that "home" might just be the people you share the front seat with. Will they ever make it to their destination? Maybe.
The road is long. But either way, one thing’s for sure that they’re not sure about a damn thing.
Volume 1: How to start
Epigraph.
[File audio opened... Source: Unknown. Playing...]
“What’s the point of having life when the life itself is just pointless and full of paradoxes? To find a meaning? To find something? Am I a ghost or just being too hard from what I should have become? How many times do humans break things? I hate you. Why me? Why you? How many times should I live to die?”
Chapter 1: Morning breakfast.
[Sector NA, Outside District E-57: Truck's cargo | 06:15 AM | 2157]
An alarm blared. It had been snoozed for fifteen minutes and now rang even louder in protest—until a hand slammed down to silence it.
"Blyat." Vika let out a long groan in Russian. "Fucking morning." She stretched her limbs like a lazy cat, joints popping.
The sunrise leaked through the dusty truck windows, reflecting off the grime on the floor. Inside, the 25-meter-square cargo hold smelled faintly of yesterday's fruit perfume mixed with sweat. It was calm, save for the steady tick-tick-tick of an old clock mounted on the wall.
Vika crawled onto the sofa in front of her, slumped against the frame and felt drained. After spitting a stray strand of hair from her mouth, she blinked until the world stopped blurring. She wiped the crust from her normal left eye, then buffed the smudge off the lens of her basic prosthetic right.
Half-asleep, Vika dragged herself into the bathroom beside her. A 3-meter-square room, large enough to fit a bathtub and a toilet. The door slid open to the right. She turned on the shower and splashed the cold water over her face and dried off with her shirt.
She went to the corner cabinet by the mirror, grabbed a comb and facial cleanser. She untangled her short, messy black hair while humming a low tune. Afterward, she worked moisturizer into the scars on her face and arms, lingering on the jagged mark in her right eye.
She should've died that day during the wolf incident. But life wanted her to suffer and now she had to deal with a lot of nightmare. All she could do was to hope it would fade. Maybe one day, it would be gone with all the nightmares.
"Good luck." She grinned a bit at the mirror, though the heavy bags under her eyes remained.
She left the bathroom, made her way to the hidden storage room in the back, the one where her sister usually did her ‘scientist work’. She walked past the kitchen section and pressed a mechanism on the wall. The door slid upward, revealing a well-placed workspace lit only by filtered sunlight.
The atmosphere inside was different from the open room outside. It was dark, tight, and somehow felt safe. Notes, wires, a toolbox, and even a plate were on the floor. But the boxes, gun racks, and scavenged things were placed neatly around the room.
She flicked on the lights at the workbench. She took her bionic eye from its charging seal and held it. Sitting down, she began her daily ritual: the swap.
With practiced movements, she eased the basic prosthetic from her right socket, wiped it with a tissue, and placed it in the drawer labeled ‘Eye A’. Then she pressed the bionic eye into place. A soft click signaled the connection. She blinked a few times, though her vision remained tethered only to the left. The bionic eye needed to be activated only when necessary, since it had a night vision system that could kill her if she left it on for 24 hours non-stop.
Back in the kitchen section. It was really just a mini-fridge, a stove, a washing machine, and a sink crammed into a 5.6-meter-square open room. Vika chugged water straight from the tap. She tossed a pan onto the stove, splashed in artificial oil, and pulled out canned rice and frozen bacon from the fridge.
Bacon, rice, and… wait. Where did that bitch go? She glanced around the cramped space. No luck. Of course.
She kicked the fridge shut, tossed the canned rice into the heater, and walked back into the "bedroom"—essentially just a multi-purpose free space.
After tossing a pillow onto the sofa and quickly folding the bedding, she reached up on her tiptoes to pull open a ceiling compartment labeled Things. With a firm tug, the panel glided open, revealing a clever, hidden compartment tucked into the roof’s hollow.
She stowed the linens inside, pulled out a folding table in one fluid motion, and set it up by the windows, dragging the sofa over to complete the room.
Through the window, she could see the quiet district in the distance—people walking, minding their business, a few police patrols rolling by.
Her mind drifted to her sister. Where is she?
She blinked and caught herself. Why would I care about that girl?
A moment later, the kitchen door slid open with a soft hiss. Yodoka climbed in, her drones hovering behind her carrying grocery bags, while she carried only her personal bag. Still in her pajamas—an oversized shirt and the arm sleeve she always wore to hide her burned skin. Her dyed grey-black hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, held by her mother's flower pin. Her brown eyes were empty.
Without a word, she set her bags down. The drones placed groceries on the counter before powering down into her bag. Yodoka pulled out a knife and a chopboard, moving with quiet efficiency.
"Morning, cold-face," Vika said, dropping bacon into the sizzling pan. The aroma escaped to the vents. "So, where you going today?"
Yodoka said nothing. She began chopping tofu with deliberate, rhythmic strokes.
What's the matter with this bitch?
"I said MORNING. Blyat." Vika rolled her eyes.
"I know," Yodoka muttered, slamming the knife a little too hard.
"Whoa, whoa—chill, sis."
"Kono gaki, I'm trying to enjoy some silence here. What's wrong with you anyway?" Yodoka muttered.
"What?" Vika's face fell. "I'm trying NICE here, you little bitch!"
Yodoka whirled around, her expression a sarcastic mask of mock cheer. "Then gooood morning, my lonely sister."
"Oh, I am doing just fineeee, lovely sister!" Vika threw the sarcasm right back. "You could have just said it earlier! Not even a week in here, and you are acting like caged monkey!"
"Funny, the monkey is talking."
"Say again!?"
Before round two could explode, a loud blast erupted from the truck's horn, making both girls freeze.
After a deadly quiet stare-off, they returned to cooking as if nothing had happened. Vika stirred the pan more quickly and cranked the heat to 200 °C. Yodoka chopped the tofu even harder, as if she were cutting a board rather than tofu.
[08:48 AM]
They sat across from each other at the cramped fold-out table. Breakfast was a tragic spread: overcooked bacon, raw tofu, and stiff rice.
Vika closed her eyes and clasped her hands. Yodoka followed suit, though more slowly. Vika led the prayer as she always did—a habit from her dad, back when prayers still meant something.
"Our Father, who art in heaven, thank you for the meal we have. Bless us with this meal. Forgive our sins, and forgive those who persecuted us, especially my rude sister—"
"Tch," Yodoka muttered.
"—In the name of Jesus. Amen."
They opened their eyes. Vika grabbed her fork. Yodoka picked up her chopsticks.
"Itadakimasu," Yodoka said quietly in Japanese, placing a piece of bacon in her mouth.
Meanwhile, Vika had already devoured her food like a goblin and was reaching for another strip. Yodoka reached for some tofu, her perfectly straight back in stark contrast to Vika's ‘shrimp-like’ slouch.
Later, when Vika tried to snag another piece, Yodoka pinned Vika's fork to the table with her own. Vika yanked back with all her force, but Yodoka had already locked it down hard.
"What now?" Vika's voice was groggy and uninterested.
"I need it too. You still have more on your plate," Yodoka said, still chewing.
"Nu," Vika said flatly in Russian. "I worked hard yesterday. So I deserve more."
Yodoka shoved the fork away. "Mama said share."
"You should eat tofu. Not bacon, you fucking diabetic! That is what Mama would say!"
"It's type 2, bitch!" Yodoka slammed her chopsticks to the table.
"Ohh, scary~" Vika put up a mock show of terror. "Yet, ironically, it doesn't make any difference to you."
"You don't even know what diabetes type IS!"
"Spare me the details, Smiley! You don't even care what you eat."
"Because I've got an insulin motor!"
"Few nanobots inside won't change a thing! You don't have a proper implant because we're fucking poor! Now shut up and eat your tofu!"
"You shut up, half cyborg!"
"It's nothing personal, you glued bones!"
"At least I don't hide my scar with a cheap moisturizer!"
"WHAT?! Have a mirror, arm-sleever! burned skin! Keeping a cold stupid face to hide the feelings, when it’s clearly DUMB—"
Suddenly, a deafening, 100-decibel screech blasted through the truck's speakers. Both sisters recoiled, clutching their ears. It kept going for nearly three seconds until it died down.
<That makes 142 times since I started living with you two,> a voice announced from the speaker, synthetic and weary. <VIKA! Are you experiencing gluttony again?>
Xea's voice echoed through the cargo hold.
"I'm hungry! It's not a sin!" Vika slammed her fork onto the table.
<And so is your sister! You two aren't animals—even animals share their food! If animals saw you fight over a piece of bacon, THEY'D EVOLVE JUST TO PUNCH YOU! Can't you have ONE normal breakfast and PUT THE BACON BACK!>
Vika grumbled, pretended to return the bacon… then shoved both pieces into her mouth with godlike speed.
Yodoka stared in disbelief. Her soul left her body.
<VIKA!?> Xea barked.
"Shut up, AI!" Vika shouted between chews.
<I swear to God,> Xea muttered. <I never agreed to be your replacement parent, and now I know why yours are dead.>
"So what?! You freaking cheap code!" Vika yelled at the ceiling speaker—a beat-up box held together with glue and nails.
"Manners, wild bear!"
"WILD BEAR?!" Vika stood up, chair scraping violently as it hit the bathroom wall. "Suka blyat! You started it first! SUSHI EATER!"
"Me?" Yodoka feigned a wounded pout. "Oh please, we know your whole personality is daddy issues!"
"FUCK YOU. JAPAN!"
"FUCK YOU. RUSSIAN!"
Their voices escalated into feral screaming until—
<ENOUGH!> Xea's voice boomed through the cargo, making the floorboards rattle. Silence covered the space again. <You're making my processing system lag—with your stupid volley mock!>
<We're on a JOURNEY, not a CONTEST!>
Another silence fell.
<If we don’t make it to any district nearby tonight, we're dead! So eat, and stop complaining!>
Then slowly, Vika sat down and continued to eat, muttering. Yodoka adjusted her posture and resumed eating.
[09:36 AM]
After a "normal" breakfast, Vika sat in the driver's seat while Yodoka ran diagnostics beside her. The engine hummed to life.
<All systems online,> Xea reported. <Fuel at 46%. We can make it to about 500 KM.>
"Did I ask?" Vika said, checking the rearview monitor.
<Sadly, I'm not talking to you.>
Vika's face went red, and she quickly looked outside to check the rearview mirrors.
"I'll check the back." Yodoka got up, tried to hold the laughter that escaped.
She opened the partition and bent down inside the cargo hold. Vika glanced back, checking whatever she was doing there.
Slow and steady, Yodoka surveyed each section, making sure everything was locked in place. She finally vanished into her workbench room. Vika tapped the seat, still looking in the same direction.
"Oi. Oka," Vika called.
No response.
"OKA!"
Yodoka emerged, quickly shoving whatever she was holding into her bag. "Y-yeah?"
"What's that?"
"Nothing, just my book." Yodoka took off her mother's flower pin, and her long hair fell slow-mo like it was dramatic.
She walked back and climbed into the passenger seat without a word, her face neutral.
Vika frowned. The hell was that?
Xea's voice came through, quieter this time. <Status check. Is everything alright back there?>
"Everything's fine," Yodoka said flatly.
Vika glanced at her sister. Something about the way she said it felt... off. Or she might be having another episode of mood swings.
<Great. We move then. We're already behind schedule.>
Vika put the truck in gear. As they rolled out, she caught one last glimpse of Yodoka in the mirror.
Her sister was staring out the window, her fingers wrapped tightly around her mother's flower pin.
End of Chapter 1.
