NOVEL SIMPLE Chapter 10
After dealing with the raider woman, Stephanie took a moment to steady herself. The immediate danger was gone, but her mind was already thinking ahead. The raider bikes that had been left outside the cabin wouldn’t go to waste. With her background in mechanics, she knew she could salvage parts from them to help repair or upgrade her own bike in the future.
She moved to the bikes, her hands steady as she began scrapping them for useful components.
Fuel lines, chains, bolts, engine parts—anything that could serve her later, she carefully set aside. Each part she took was added to her growing collection, all neatly stored away in her bike's saddlebags for future use. By the time she finished, the raider bikes were stripped of anything worthwhile, leaving only useless frames and torn seats.
Satisfied with her work, Stephanie stood up and stretched, her muscles still a bit sore but healing fast thanks to her enhanced physique. As she walked back toward the cabin, her eyes fell on an old axe, half-buried in the corner of the cabin. It had likely been left there before the apocalypse, weathered but still sturdy.
“Perfect,” she muttered, grabbing the axe and slinging it over her shoulder.
There was still daylight left, so she decided to put the time to good use. Moving to the edge of the nearby forest, Stephanie began chopping down a few trees, her movements quick and efficient as she cut the logs. She stacked them near the small river that flowed from the nearby spring, already forming a plan in her mind. After clearing a few more trees, she started redirecting the river's flow, carefully placing the logs to bring the water closer to the cabin. It was a small but useful improvement—she would have easier access to water and could make the place a bit more livable.
By the time she finished, the sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the forest. The air was cool, and Stephanie’s stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since earlier. She grabbed her bow and headed back into the forest for a quick hunt. Not long after, she spotted a group of rabbits, their small forms darting through the underbrush. Her movements were precise, and with a single shot, she managed to bring down two rabbits.
Later, by the fire, she cooked her meal, savoring the taste of the fresh meat. The crackling fire and the sound of the river in the background made the world feel a little less hostile, if only for a moment. Tomorrow, she had plans, and she would need all her strength.
The next day, Stephanie woke with the first light. She had an idea—something her father had taught her years ago, back when he was training her in mechanics, physics, and electrical engineering. He had always called her a genius, praising her for her ability to grasp complex concepts quickly. Those lessons were about to come in handy.
Her plan was to build a small waterwheel near the cabin using the scrap from the raider bikes and the logs she had chopped down. It would be simple, but it would generate enough energy to make her stay here a little easier. She could use it to power some lights or charge small devices, maybe even rig a basic security system.
Working with a combination of bike parts and wood, she began constructing the wheel. The design wasn’t complicated, and with her skills, it was almost second nature. The framework came together quickly as she assembled the spokes and paddles from bike chains and metal scraps, attaching them to the wooden frame. As she worked, memories of her father teaching her how to manipulate mechanical components surfaced—his voice, full of pride, telling her she was worthy of his genes.
By mid-afternoon, the waterwheel was complete. Stephanie stood back, admiring her work as the wheel began to turn in the river’s current. It spun smoothly, the paddles catching the water with each rotation. She smiled slightly to herself. Her father had always been right—when it came to mechanics and engineering, she was a natural.
With the wheel in place, she now had a steady source of power. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to charge her UV lamp and possibly power a few small things if needed. It made the cabin feel a little more like a home base, at least for the time being.
Satisfied with her progress, she wiped her hands on her pants and stood up.
As Stephanie stood back to admire the small UV lamps she had just connected to the waterwheel, she felt a sense of satisfaction. The lamps were scattered around the cabin, casting a protective glow that would keep the Freaks away. The UV light acted as a barrier, ensuring that any night-time visitors would stay clear of her temporary base. The forest, blessed with ample sunlight during the day, didn’t attract as many Freaks as the shadier, darker areas they preferred. But still, precautions were necessary.
After finishing the setup, Stephanie grabbed her bow and headed back out to hunt, this time looking for bigger game. The day had been productive, but she needed to keep her energy up for the days ahead. As the sun began to set, she managed to bring down a deer, hauling it back to her cabin. She skinned and dressed the meat beneath the protective glow of the UV lights, their faint hum mixing with the sound of the forest as night began to fall. The air cooled quickly, and the distant cries of creatures echoed in the distance, but none dared to come near her camp.
Meanwhile, across the forest, a tall, black woman named Harley got off her bike near a canal that ran through the edge of the woods. At an impressive 199 cm, she towered over most people, her presence as striking as her height. The canal was overrun with vegetation, wild plants spilling over the edges, creating a tangled mess of roots and vines. But Harley wasn’t here for the scenery. Her eyes were fixed on the flowers that had begun to bloom as the sun sank lower in the sky.
“I hope these damn flowers are worth it,” Harley muttered, crouching down by the canal to get a better look.
The flowers were rare—night-blooming and valuable for certain trades, especially in the black markets that thrived in the shadows of a dying world. As the night settled in, the petals of the flowers began to unfold, their pale, glowing hues lighting up the overgrown canal like something out of a dream. Harley carefully plucked one, then another, collecting them in her pack.
By the time she reached for the eleventh flower, Harley heard it—a faint rustling sound. Her instincts kicked in, and she froze, slowly turning her head. There, emerging from the shadows of the canal, was a Freak—but this one was different. It didn’t have arms, its shoulders twisted and raw, and its mouth was impossibly large, wide open as though it had been stretched by pain or evolution. It was a Screamer, a dangerous breed known for the piercing sound it emitted, drawing hordes to its location.
"Shit," Harley hissed, eyes wide.
The Screamer opened its massive mouth, unleashing a blood-curdling scream that pierced the quiet night. Harley didn’t waste any time—she abandoned the last flower and bolted out of the canal, her feet kicking up dirt as she sprinted toward her bike. The echoes of the scream rippled through the forest, and from the direction of the city, she could already hear the distant sounds of movement.
But these weren’t just any Freaks. As she revved her bike’s engine and sped away, Harley glanced back, catching sight of them emerging from the shadows—massive, hulking figures. Nightbrutes. Bigger, stronger, and more dangerous than the average Freak, their skin was stone-like, and their serrated teeth gleamed in the darkness. They weren’t numerous, but they were fast and relentless, and they’d been drawn by the Screamer’s call.
Harley pressed down on the acceleration, her bike tearing through the forest as she veered off the main road, heading into the trees. The Nightbrutes were still behind her, crashing through the brush, their heavy footfalls shaking the ground. But the forest’s thick foliage was on her side, slowing the creatures down, though not by much.
As Harley rode through the forest, her bike weaving between the trees, she spotted a cabin illuminated by UV light up ahead. Relief washed over her—she knew Nightbrutes were more susceptible to UV light than the other Freaks, and this cabin could be her safe haven. But just as she approached, one of the Nightbrutes caught up and swiped at her bike, shattering part of it.
Harley cursed under her breath, realizing her bike wouldn’t last long. As the Nightbrutes closed in, she made a quick decision—jumping off the bike and sprinting toward the cabin. The engine of her damaged bike sputtered as it rolled a few more feet, finally dying just outside the UV light’s protection.
Inside the cabin, Stephanie had been preparing for the night when she noticed the commotion outside. She grabbed her CZ 550 Safari Magnum, the rifle’s weight familiar in her hands, and quickly took aim through a window.
Harley dashed toward the cabin, her long strides covering the distance fast, but just as she neared the safety of the UV lights, a Nightbrute lunged at her from behind, its massive form barely visible in the darkness.
"Don’t shoot!" Harley yelled, her voice cutting through the chaos.
“Down!” Stephanie commanded, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the Nightbrute.
Without hesitation, Harley rolled out of the way, and in the same moment, Stephanie fired a precise shot, the bullet piercing the Nightbrute’s eye, dropping the creature mid-jump. The other Nightbrutes, seeing the UV lights around the cabin, growled in frustration but quickly retreated, unwilling to face the light that burned their thick, stone-like skin.
As the creatures vanished into the night, Stephanie kept her rifle aimed at Harley, her sharp blue eyes scrutinizing the newcomer.
Harley stood tall—199 cm, towering over most, her athletic and powerful frame enhanced by her military-style gear. Her sharp green eyes met Stephanie’s, and her bold green lipstick caught the glow of the UV light, giving her a striking look. She wore a green military jacket over a tight black leotard, emphasizing her muscular build and large breasts. Her thick black hair was tied back in a high ponytail, practical yet commanding. There was something about her that radiated confidence and strength, and Stephanie could tell she was no ordinary survivor.
Still aiming her rifle, Stephanie demanded, “Who are you? Are you with the raiders?”
Harley raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk forming on her lips. “Do I look like a raider?” she replied, her tone dry but assertive. “I’m a pilgrim. Been in this city for about a year. Name’s Harley.”
Stephanie studied her for a moment longer, still aiming her rifle. The Nightbrutes were gone for now, but the night was far from over.
Harley
