Extinction: Golden Resurgence

POV: Harper

For twenty years, I had been running with predators at my heels.

For twenty years, I had melted into shadows, swallowed my voice, bound my breasts, and buried my true self—not just to save my own skin, but to keep my family breathing.

Everything I had sacrificed was ripped away by one man who tore through my perfectly constructed lie until it crumbled to ash. He dragged me into a world I never asked to face—a world where women like me are hunted like diamonds in the dirt.

Now, I’m after a salvation that many dismiss as mere myth, because in this fractured world, I’ve discovered something worth fighting for: restoration, justice, and freedom.

It’s a chance to reclaim what once was—a chance to set the world right again.

This isn’t just my story, this is our story—the final gasp of a dying world and the first breath of something wild, new and never before seen.

***

As a child, my mama would whisper tales of women cradling life within them, their bellies round and full with promise.

She spoke of the reverence bestowed upon them, of the gentle hands that reached out in kindness, for a child was the greatest miracle a woman could offer. Back then, I listened with wide eyes, but I didn’t grasp the weight of her words; they felt like distant echoes from a forgotten fairytale.

Yet in my reality, women with even the faintest chance of bearing children are treated with savage cruelty, trapped beneath the iron grip of those who wield wealth and power, their lives dictated by cold machinery and ruthless ambition. Women are regarded as rare treasures—valuable only when extracted and possessed—yet, instead of being cherished, we are reduced to mere vessels, our worth measured solely by our ability to reproduce the next generation.

For two decades, since the devastation struck, not a single child has been born.

~I am among the last.~

Our bodies rejected procreation, perhaps because—in my parents’ own words—some higher power decided we no longer deserved to continue destroying the world. That’s why I was raised to act like a boy from a young age. My shoulder-length brown hair was the only constant in my appearance. Many boys grow out their hair to keep warm in the merciless winters, but because of my feminine features, I often had to hide my face and wear long sleeves, even when the sun was blistering, to conceal my lack of masculine features.

With each passing year, the weight of my disguise grew heavier.

My breasts were tightly bound with bandages or tape to mimic that of a flat, male chest, and I was trained to speak as little as possible so my womanly-pitched voice wouldn’t reveal my true gender. Only women considered ‘Barren’ were somewhat safe from the barbarity that the opposite sex committed.

“Have you ever wondered what life was like before the devastation?” my best—and only—friend, Willow, asked, her legs swinging beneath her as we sat atop the abandoned train carriage—our new refuge—looking out into the war-torn distance.

I had never had the fortune of seeing a train come to life, yet my mama often spoke of the days when these iron giants could whisk hundreds of souls across vast distances in mere moments.

“Mama and papa tell me some stories, although it doesn’t sound like it was much better; they say they still had evils, only it came in different forms, whatever that means,” I mumbled the last part, flicking a small pebble from beside me and watching as it bounced on the metal carriage below.

“Yeah, well, my dad tells me that the cities came to life, especially at night. He says that hundreds of thousands of people crowded the streets and that they had these places called restaurants that just gave away food whenever you wanted!”

I felt my stomach clench at the mention of food. It was difficult to imagine that something so scarce and valuable was once so easily accessible and taken for granted.

“Hey, what’s that?” Willow asked, her voice trembling slightly, worry visible in her expression as her slender eyebrows lifted. She sat stiffly, gazing into the distance, when I could barely make out a truck speeding through the open dirt landscape.

~Vindicators.~

Willow’s eyesight was much sharper than mine, and that wasn’t the only thing that made her stand out; She had burnt orange—or strawberry blonde, as she preferred—hair and bottle green eyes.

She often tried to hide these features, keeping her fringe in place to minimise the visibility of her eyes as much as possible, as they drew the most attention; and in this world, attention wasn’t something you wanted. She also had small pink lips, fair skin, and dark brown freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose.

I waited a moment, my own heart hammering like a small pecker in my chest, until the truck continued further into the distance.

“We’ll be okay, Willow,” I placed my arm around her, and we both released a tainted breath.

We had been forced out of our last home by the Vindicators a few months ago; it was the closest we had come to being captured. They took some of the younger men, including Willow’s twin brother. It was a miracle that so many of us escaped with our lives.

Both Willow and I were twenty years old, and one of the youngest women left—that we know of.

Most of our travelling companions were men and boys. The women among us were all Barren, meaning they were of an age that wouldn’t be able to bear children even if they tried, so the Vindicators would have no interest in them.

Now, we sleep on trains crowded with at least a hundred bodies, and the only moments we can truly be ourselves are with our families or each other. This is because we’ve been taught from a young age that no one can be fully trusted, especially not thy neighbour.

“I miss him,” Willow sniffled.

“I miss him too,” I replied, holding her tighter.

“Well, when we rule the world, I’ll never force anyone to do anything they don’t want to do,” she proclaimed softly.

We had a running fantasy of one day taking over the world and transforming it into something we could only ever dream of. It was a silly pact we made when we were younger to cope, sealing it with a frilled bracelet that barely hung on our wrists, which we cut from our own cloth.

“I would,” I said it without hesitation.

Willow gasped in shock-horror.

“What? I would,” I shrugged nonchalantly. “I would force them to endure what they have made their victims suffer; it’s only fair.”

“That’ll make you no better than them,” Willow said defeatedly. She was usually the calmer, soft-spoken of the two of us, and the one with a more forgiving nature. It’s been this way since we met 8 years ago

“Maybe I don’t want to be better…

“Maybe I want to get even,” I replied.

***

It was dead of night. My mama, papa and twin brother, Ryle, were surrounding me, always protecting me as though I would be snatched away at any moment. But I suppose they had a right to be cautious; the worst often occurred at night, under the moon’s penetrating glow—you could never be too careful.

I couldn’t sleep tonight. Perhaps it was the humidity causing my skin to sweat beneath my jumper, or the crowded bodies warming the small carriage. Or maybe it was the vehicle from earlier, the one Willow saw, which kept replaying in my mind. Despite telling myself we were safe and they weren’t coming for us, I couldn’t shake this uneasy feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right.

I quietly crept out of the carriage, knowing full well that’s something I shouldn’t do, and would be chained to my brother for a month if my parents found out, but I desperately needed some fresh air in this stifling, cramped space before I suffocated! And perhaps to give my gut some respite.

I scaled the side of the carriage until I reached the top, taking a deep inhale of stale, muggy air. I looked out into the distance. Behind me—a few hundred feet—lay a ruined city, or what we call: the Fallen City, filled with self-made homes and old, crumbling buildings of rock and concrete that once used to be filled with life.

Whereas, in front of me stretched a defunct, desolate land for miles that’s long been neglected.

We called it The Empty.

No new greenery can grow there anymore due to the spoiling caused by the devestation and other volatile human acts.

I don’t blame nature for abandoning us; I would.

Looking into The Empty, I noticed a faint flicker of light. It resembled a small moon reflecting off metal. Dirt started to rise from the road and circle something large. That’s when I noticed it was getting closer…

Dangerously close…

And it was fast-approaching…

Oh shit!

I climbed down as fast as my arms and legs could take me and ran into the carriage.

“Vindicators!” I shouted, and bodies suddenly sprang to life from their pits.

“Harp!” Ryle, my brother, ran towards me.

He was tall and lean, with dark brunette hair similar to mine and matching brown eyes, inherited from our papa.

My parents snatched the small, tattered rucksacks that held our life’s possessions and ran towards us.

“How far?” my papa asked, his fine wrinkles and scruffy peppered beard scrunching as his eyes scanned the outside.

“A few miles; they’ll be here any minute,” I answered.

“Lizbeth…” my papa began.

“I know, Roel. Head to the Fallen City, we can find cover in the rubble and broken-down buildings,” my mama answered, her green eyes, with hints of toffee brown, now wide with worry. “If anything happens…”

“Glimmer Point,” I responded by reciting our meeting point in case we got separated.

“We don’t have much time,” Ryle rushed before pulling me along with him.

A few steps in, I abruptly halted, “Wait! We can’t leave, not without Willow,” I exclaimed, pulling my arm from Ryle’s grip.

“Harper, we need to get to the Fallen City,” my papa urged, coming from behind us, his frame tense.

“I can’t leave her!” I could feel tears spring to my eyes at the thought of abandoning my best friend.

What if she gets captured like Will? Only, her fate would be so much worse when they discovered she was a woman.

My mama stood in front of me, her hands resting firmly yet tenderly on my upper arms. “We’ll come back for her, Harper, I promise. Right now, I need you to be brave and start running,” she smiled, moisture lining her eyes.

I couldn’t stand seeing my mama so petrified, so I did as she asked. I ran with my family, and my own tears began to form.

Please be safe, Willow.

Then everything turned to shit.

Gunfire erupted nearby, accompanied by deafening screams and frantic shouts from both predator and prey, sending a chilling shock through me. We were so close to the Fallen City until papa stopped and held out his arms.

“Quick, in here!” he directed us, and we hid inside a large, broken carriage that had toppled over and had a gaping hole in the middle. We were just in time, as two armed men came running from behind the carriage we were just about to pass.

We huddled together in the corner, staying as discreet as possible until the noise quietened. A small crack in front of me allowed me to see a peek of the outside. I dared a glance.

“I think they’re gone,” I whispered.

My papa signalled with his hands that he would check if it was safe to move and for us to stay put. The longer we stayed here, the greater the chance we had of being caught; a group this far from Krael was bound to camp for the night.

Krael: the largest and most dangerous place in the Capital, ruled by a man who goes by the name ‘Vulcan’: A man you’d never want to encounter, far worse than the Vindicators, who are merely a nuisance by comparison.

The Capital was enclosed by a massive 50-foot wall constructed from solid brick and reinforced metal. Mama and papa told me it was erected in the old world shortly after the devastation occurred. Originally, it was built for the wealthy and elite, but it wasn’t long before it was overrun and eventually seized by Vulcan, who turned it into his personal kingdom.

“Oi!” A man, not my papa or anyone familiar, shouted from a short distance before a flood of heavy footsteps came running in our direction, each one proudly displaying the distinctive Vindicator tattoo on their upper arms: An ominous black eye framed by a hard diamond border.

My papa took to his knees in robotic movements, hands behind his head, as his eyes flickered behind him, then at us. A warning flashed across his face, signalling us to stay put. This wasn’t the first time he had done this, but it didn’t make me feel any more reassured.

Within seconds, a group of armed men—carrying both melee weapons and guns—surrounded my papa, each weapon aimed at a different part of his body.

“Are you alone?” one asked. He had a gnarly scar across his cheek as he walked behind my papa and pressed a knife to the back of his neck.

“Yes,” he hissed as a trickle of blood slid from the small, open wound where the man pressed against my papa’s flesh.

“You’re lying,” the Vindicator walked to my papa’s front and crouched down, brandishing his knife in an attempt to intimidate him, although my papa was much stronger than he appeared. He would never surrender, not before sacrificing himself.

And that’s what I was afraid of.

“It’s just me,” he gritted out.

Another wandering soldier appeared to be overly interested in the carriage where we were all currently huddled in. My mama was torn between remaining with her children and going to help her husband.

I had a bad feeling about that man with the scar; he didn’t seem like the type to let someone go unharmed. If I ran outside and gave myself up, they would spare my family. My brother must have sensed my thoughts as he squeezed my hand and shook his head in caution.

“You hiding anything back here?” the young, curious soldier asked, walking toward the carriage. We all held our breath, my eyes shut tight as terror pumped through my veins.

This is it.

This is the end for me.

I was about to be found out and taken to the worst evil this world had to offer…