Humanity's last city fell by a monster's hand.

That was what her great-grandfather told her long ago, with wistful eyes and a tongue that dragged whenever he recounted one of the lengthy tales of his youth. His additions to the morbid, harrowing experiences he brought up after the war made it seem more like fantasy, a world that could have never, ever possibly existed, a world so drastically different from Lazarus that she thought he was bluffing simply to amuse and terrify her young mind.

That was the last thing he ever told her before succumbing to an illness that seemed born from within him, clawing at his organs until he was bedridden, living years of torment until his eyes glazed over and he was buried beneath an old ash tree.

That same ash tree stood outside her classroom window which she hadn't realized she'd been staring through until her professor gently shook her by the shoulder. "Everything okay, Cora?"

She snapped out of her trance and smiled, hoping it concealed her frustration of the interruption. "I'm fine. Thank you."

"Well, then." He focused his attention on the rest of the class. "We will begin the final unit today, so please take out your textbooks and flip to page..."

One and a half more months until she graduated. By that point, she had classes on Tuesdays and Fridays, the rest of the weekdays reserved for her apprenticeship as seen fit by the Council. Her heartbeat quickened at the prospect of finally being eligible for the Rake test, a notoriously difficult exam that weeded out the common people from those dedicated enough to become farmers.

Sitting around her were several other students bound on the same path as she was, people whom she barely knew about except their mutual desire to pursue a career in the bio-earth sciences. Anna's specialty lay in the earth sciences, devoid of the living aspect as she scavenged artifacts from the mightiest period of time where human hubris managed to touch the Beyond.

Touch, and nothing more, because the history lessons taught her that although humanity had sustained an off-world presence for several decades, those few colonies perished soon after the collapse of global civilization.

There was so much she wanted to learn, so much she wanted to see apart from the sickly-grey oceans lapping against Lazarus's beaten shores. It was rare nowadays for something to wash up on the beach, rarer still for that something to be another artifact. Once, a naval mine had detonated against a distant cliff face when she was a small girl, the brilliant burst of light engulfing the skies briefly and shaking the ground enough for several outlying barns to collapse. The remnants of the cliff face afterwards resembled scrap metal, becoming known as the Shakes because occasionally a boulder fell from the fractured rock, tiny from afar but large enough to create a noticeable splash.

Cora supposed land mines still waited for an unlucky prospector to unearth it, but as far as she knew nobody had ever been blown to bits by one before.

A blur of movement snapped her daydreaming. "Do you have a pencil I can borrow?" one of the boys, Damien, asked. She fished in her pocket for one and handed it to him, turning her attention back to her textbook before she could make eye contact with him.

Several boys had tried in the past to win her attention, and several times she had to shut them down. She didn't plan on looking for a relationship until she was sure a fallout wouldn't ruin her life. That was how her mother kept afloat after her father passed away-by making sure she had the right connections and enough stability to weather a loss.

"Do you always have to be so... cold?" Damien said, catching her off-guard. Nobody had ever told her that before, mostly because she did her best to interact little with her classmates, whom she knew would never reach the height being a farmer required. She stared at him, open-mouthed.

“What do you mean?

He began counting on his fingers. "You don't want to make eye contact with me, you barely talk to me during group assignments, you leave before I can say anything, you never bother to say anything unless you’re forced to, and you scoot away from me during group discussions. I'm not going to be like those idiots over there." He jerked his thumb in the direction of his friends, who were busy concocting a mixture of different plant juices to see which one tasted the worst. "If that's the reason why you always try your best to avoid me."

All she could do was follow the truth that materialized in mind. "I'm sorry, you're right. I acted like a jerk to you because I thought you were going to try asking me out and wouldn't stop when I said no." Honesty hurt, but she knew it was necessary to make no enemies through lying. She had her mother to thank for being unable to lie with the ease that so many of her classmates did whenever they congratulated her for scoring the highest on an exam.

"I won’t, I won’t. But… am I really that unattractive?"

She paused to consider him. Would she date someone like him if she wanted to? "No, it's not that. I'm just not interested in anybody right now until-"

The professor's voice sounded out across the classroom, making her freeze. "Miss Hales. Have you flipped to page four hundred and seventeen?"

Damien smirked as Cora's cheeks heated up. "Yes, Mr. Brookstone. I'm sorry about that." She glared at Damien, who shrugged in response with an irritating smirk she wanted to wipe off his face.

"I know all of you are anxious to finish, given that you will then be eligible to take your respective exams to determine suitability for your chosen careers. But for the sake of public education, please stick with me until the end. You've pulled through every last year. Finish this one with your best efforts." As if he hadn't humiliated her enough, Mr. Brookstone shot her a warning look before returning to his desk.

The rest of the class passed by without any more interference. That day, she learned more about the structure of DNA and RNA than she cared to admit was monotonous and mostly useless, considering the technologies to manipulate the molecules of life were extinct. It was important to preserve all knowledge from before the Great War, but the Council wanted that knowledge preserved in both Lazarus's citizens and books, of which she thought had gone too far. She’d forget what she learned after several weeks. A book wouldn’t.

After reading through the rest of the chapter, she shut her book and tucked it into her bag. She glanced at the clock. Three minutes left. Her knee bounced up and down, anticipating the gong being struck to conclude school for the day, when Damien appeared beside her with a textbook held to his side.

"So... you're saying I'm not unattractive?"

Was that all he could think about? Cora huffed. "That's not the same thing as being attractive, in case you were wondering," she said, lacking a book to stand on the table to block view of him, so she clasped her hands together. "There’s a big difference there. Look, if you want to talk, do it outside class. Remember I’m not interested in anybody right now.”

He raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Of course, of course, I get it. I just remembered-you want to become a farmer, right?"

"Yes... why do you ask?" Damien never expressed interest in her before aside from the occasional greeting and pleasant conversation. Nothing like this ever occurred between them.

"Because my uncle buys from Ms. Hales, and she had mentioned you were apprenticed under farmer Owens. My uncle's friends with him."

She folded her legs. "Okay..."

"And you see, the thing is that I'm apprenticed to an ecologist. First-year stuff, you know how that goes. The grace year and all that. But I've been thinking that being an ecologist would be too much work with so little recognition. I want to go bigger, and it just so happens that a farmer position has opened up and the grace year ends when we graduate. You're already planning to fill that farmer position as soon as you can, but there's six weeks left for me to switch and compete..."

Again, that smirk on his face. Cora clenched her fists and restrained herself from punching that smug face. With her developed strength, she had no doubt she could knock out several of his teeth in one blow. As if to remind her that violence was not a farmer's way, the blister beneath her new bandage pulsed, making her grit her teeth.

"There is no way you'll make it. I've been an apprentice since the beginning of the school year. I’d pass the Rake faster than you can fail it.”

"Unless I call in a favor from my uncle..." He wiggled his fingers, making her face redden. Fury threatened to break past her self-control and overwhelm her, but then she remembered the lessons farmer Owens had taught her. Her fury dissipated, leaving a persistent irritation that simmered beneath her pleasant smile, because she knew he’d never be able to beat her.

"You're the ugliest person I've ever met."

"That's a lie and you know it!"

She ignored him as she stormed out of the classroom, snatched her belongings from her locker, and shoved the door open before walking out into the blistering sun. The smile vanished, nobody around to witness her anger. Stupid, stupid, stupid! That was why she never bothered talking much with other people, especially her classmates, except Anna. They were all so cutthroat about things.

She jogged home. No, not home, she thought with disgust. Her temporary shelter. Her real home lay over a gentle, sloping hill, where that fat pig harvested on their land and gorged himself full in their house. Soon, she'd have the pleasure of showing up in front of Pork-rind and showing him her new license before demanding him to get off her property. If he refused, then the town police would have a pleasant chat with him.

Her aunt's house was behind several shacks that could barely be called homes. Cora's house--shelter--was nicer both inside and outside than the surrounding properties, mostly due to Cora's mother bringing in more money as a weaver, but it wasn't enough to buy a separate house altogether, not that they wanted to. Moving in Lazarus was rare, so people who eventually relinquished their properties for better ones-or in Cora and her mother's case, worse ones-demanded exorbitant prices for their old homes. Prices that weren’t worth it.

Since the house had been the Council's property, lended to her father until his passing, she and her mother received no compensation. The only reassurance they had was that they would regain the title deed for the house at no financial cost if either of them became a farmer.

That day was fast approaching. Cora sprinted down the long, winding gravel trail, crushing weeds underfoot and releasing the anger boiling within her through heavy breaths. Tufts of grass marked the entrance to the house, a bleak door protected by iron rails, reminiscent of a jail cell. It was a jail, to her at least. She suspected her mother was fine here, but she hadn't been the one to bear the brunt of their new household's chores.

Cora found the hidden key beneath the ratty old mat and opened the door. A musty odor, that of clothes left too long in a closet, wafted out. She wrinkled her nose. It was an odor she couldn't grow accustomed to no matter how much time she spent in there.

Inside, the washing sink sat flush against the wall, exposed piping an eyesore. She walked past it into the living room, where many clothes lay draped on the battered couch, the glass dining room table, and on the backs of the several chairs lying haphazardly around. An empty skillet sat on the stove, with a small stain running from the edge of the countertop to the floor. The quiet hummed with her breathing. Aunt Lorelei wasn't home, meaning Cora had the whole house to herself.

She was still furious about Damien, so she turned to her herbal garden in her backyard. Plants had always been a part of her identity for as long as she could remember. Luckily enough, she’d had enough seeds to start her own personal garden, free from Lazarus’s management as she carried a farming permit, which would be upgraded to a license once she passed the Rake.

She cut snippets of herbs to use for dinner's soup, ripped out several weeds that had popped up beside her prized coriander, gauged the soil’s nutrient level, inspected any pest damage, applied a healthy dose of natural insecticide over her herbs, and planted her hands on her hips when she finished, satisfied of how well her garden was growing.

She watered the plants as a last touch, tending to each one carefully if roots were exposed or dirt clung to the underside of leaves. Gloves would’ve stopped dirt from getting under her fingernails every time she ran maintenance in the garden, but she didn’t mind. It grounded her to nature.

As she stepped over pots of basil and coriander, checking each plant as she went, she stubbed her toe on a brick she’d used to hold a pot in place. The jolt of pain sent her spewing out a flurry of curses, hopping in place to relieve the fiery sensation.

The rage was a palpable thing at the base of her heart, combining with her earlier anger to produce a monster she struggled to control. She leaned against an unused trellis and eyed the fields beyond her enclosed garden. Several children played soccer, punting the ball to impressive heights before it fell, caught by a child and sent back to the person who had kicked the ball.

Only that the child misjudged very badly and sent the ball flying over the other child into her garden. The soccer ball crushed the basil she’d just checked and rebounded, punching through a bush brimming with peas, bouncing off the trellis, and landing right at her feet. She grabbed the ball and squeezed until she felt something give within it. It began deflating, having been punctured by one of her nails.

"Our ball!" the closest child wailed as he pressed his face against the fence, hands scrabbling to find handholds in the chain-link fencing. Loose wiring from olden times, when the fence had been partially electric, jutted from a corner post close to the child, but he didn’t notice.

Had she been as blind as him when she was his age? "Don't do that. You'll get hurt!" she yelled, covering the distance between them in a few long strides. "You want your ball? Here it is." She hurled the deflated ball over the fence. It thudded against the ground, sliding to a stop, a pathetic thing compared to what it had been before. "Next time, watch where you're aiming your shots!"

"I'm sorry," the child said, looking dejected, shoulders slumped. He turned back and gingerly picked up the ball, hanging his head low as he brought it over to his companion. Cora's heart ached, but it wasn't because of her anger. She ruined somebody's day. A child's, no less.

The two children shared a short conversation, the other child moving his arms in a wild fashion, before both shot her a defiant glare and stomped away. "You're just like the monster in the woods, but worse!" the child who had tried to scamper up the fence shouted, voice cracking. "It was just a couple dumb plants."

Monster in the woods? Was that their version of a jerk? "I'm sorry," she said, her throat constricting, but the children left. The blister pulsed again.

"Not again," she muttered. She needed to change the bandage, something she really, really hated. Cleaning wounds was not in her department.

Tomorrow would be agonizing.