"The Last Survivors" Chapter 1 "Broken Peace" (Ivy POV)

Hello everyone i had finish this part of the last survivors story line but i forgot to post it xd.

Anyway i also wanted to let you all know that a made a few updates on the wiki, i added a couple of new bios, including some for this story, so please check it out: https://devoart3d.fandom.com/wiki/Devoart_Wiki

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. If you find any typos please let me know :)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Ivy Dalton's apartment, casting a warm glow that danced across her room. The familiar, gentle hum of the city provided the comforting soundscape to Ivy's morning routine. Soft melodies flowed from her radio, a station she’d loved since she moved into the city.

Ivy leaned against her crutches, their tips silently gripping the floor, as she held up two skirts in front of her full-length mirror. "Hmm," she mused aloud, considering her reflection, "Black or pastel today?"

She glanced at the window, watching a few birds fluttering by, their movements free and unburdened. "Maybe the black one... it's been a while," she thought, remembering the last time she wore it to Evelyn's birthday party.

Selecting the black skirt, she paired it with a long-sleeved green-striped t-shirt, laying them neatly on the bed. "Perfect," she whispered, pleased with her choice. Reaching for her signature black thigh-highs, she took a moment to appreciate the way they made her feel - confident and chic, in spite of everything.

Pulling on her lace-up sandals was always a challenge, but Ivy had her method. She began by carefully lacing them around her slender left foot, then taking extra care with her smaller right one.

As she finished, she took a looked at herself in the mirror. "One last thing". She said, putting on her necklace.

She made her way to her apartment door, picking up her small backpack, she maded sure that she had everything she would need.

As she slung the backpack over one shoulder, Ivy did a final mental checklist. Keys? Check. Wallet? Check. Work ID and her favorite red lipstick? Check and check.

Ivy started to make walk to the office, it was close to where she lived, it was a 30 min walk for everyone else, but for Ivy it was a 1 hour walk due to her disability, she didn't mind, she liked to walk to the office, it was her time to enjoy the city in her unique way.

The familiar sounds of morning traffic, chatter, and birds filled the air. Ivy always found these moments calming. With every swing of her crutches, she moved forward, taking in the sights and sounds that made her city special. The rhythmic tapping of her crutches was like a metronome, grounding her to the moment.

Ivy occasionally received sympathetic looks from strangers, but she paid them no mind. She was used to it, and over time, she had built an inner resilience that made those looks feel inconsequential. Instead, she focused on the joy of the small things – the rustling leaves, the chirping birds, and the distant hum of city life.

Halfway through her journey, Ivy started to notice that the morning noise of the city were a lot louder than usual.

The hustle and bustle she usually enjoyed had shifted in tone. It wasn’t just the usual sounds of morning commutes, coffee shop chatter, or street musicians playing their early tunes. This was different - there were sirens blaring in the distance, and the hum of conversation was overtaken by worried murmurs and rushed footsteps.

As Ivy approached an intersection, she noticed people gathered around their cars, speaking in urgent tones into their phones. A traffic jam seemed to be forming, with drivers honking impatiently. Something had definitely gone wrong.

From her vantage point, Ivy saw a crashed ambulance, maybe this was the cause of all the noise. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the crashed ambulance. Its back doors were slightly ajar, and a shadowy figure writhed within. "Is that...a person? No, it can't be. People don't move like that," she thought, her heart beginning to race. 

A young woman, likely in her early twenties, with a concerned expression exclaimed to her friend, "Oh my gosh! Should we help? Maybe someone's hurt in there!"

Another voice chimed in, "They could need CPR or something! Let's go!"

However, Ivy's instincts were ringing alarm bells. The movements inside the ambulance were too unnatural, too...wrong.

"No. Stay back," she whispered to herself. She knew she couldn’t shout a warning; her voice wouldn’t carry far enough. Ivy turned, using her left leg to steady herself, and began making her way back.

As she picked up her pace, Ivy tried to push away the sense of dread that was settling in, holding to her crutches with a thight grip. The sounds behind her grew louder – shouts of alarm and panic. She didn’t dare look back but could hear the chaos unfolding. It seemed that whatever was in the ambulance had stirred more than just traffic problems.

She could hear the distant cries and sirens growing louder, yet her focus was solely on getting home. The familiar streets seemed more intimidating now, with every shadow and alleyway appearing as potential hiding places for danger.

"I just need to get home," Ivy whispered to herself, each step accompanied by the rhythmic tap of her crutches. The sounds behind her only intensified her urgency. Screams, sirens, the roar of confusion and panic. It felt surreal, like a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

Each stride, every bit of momentum she could muster, was fueled by adrenaline. Ivy repeated her new mantra in her head, trying to keep herself grounded: "Home. Just get home." She clenched her crutches tightly, the cold metal biting into her palms, her limp leg moved back and forth frantically, a stark reminder of the reality she found herself in.

Ivy's eyes fixed on the familiar entrance of her building as she approached, praying that the door wasn't jammed or blocked. The ramp, a pathway she'd ascended countless times before without a second thought, now felt like an endurance test. Each curve of the ramp was a battle against time, but Ivy's determination held strong.

She could hear the panicked cries of others from far off, but the immediate vicinity of her building seemed eerily quiet. Her muscles ached and her breath came in ragged gasps, but she finally made it to the top.

Using her crutch for leverage, she yanked open the front door, the coolness of the lobby offering a brief respite from the chaos outside. For a moment, she allowed herself a deep breath, pressing her back against the closed door, feeling its solidity and the relative safety it offered.

"That was too close," Ivy whispered to herself, her heart still pounding loudly in her ears.

She started the short trek down the corridor to her apartment. The familiar beige carpet, the smell of the old wallpaper, everything was so normal in such an abnormal situation.

As she reached her door, she fumbled for her keys, fingers trembling. Once inside, she quickly locked and bolted the door, sliding down to sit against it, crutches clattering beside her. For a moment, all Ivy could do was close her eyes and try to slow her racing heart.

"Okay" she murmured to herself, trying to ground her thoughts, "i'm safe for now... Evelyn!".

She remembered Evelyn, her close friend, she remember that evelyn used to be in the army before the accident that left her in a wheelchair. She knew that if she could rely on someone it had to be her. Ivy quickly grab a bigger backpack that she had on her closed and started to collect supplies before heading out.

Gasping to catch her breath, Ivy’s mind raced through the essentials she might need. In the kitchen, she filled her backpack with bottled water, non-perishable food like canned tuna, protein bars, and a can opener.

As she reached her door, she fumbled for her keys, fingers trembling. Once inside, she quickly locked and bolted the door, sliding down to sit against it, crutches clattering beside her. For a moment, all Ivy could do was close her eyes and try to slow her racing heart.

"Okay" she murmured to herself, trying to ground her thoughts, "i'm safe for now... Evelyn!".

She remembered Evelyn, her close friend, she remember that evelyn used to be in the army before the accident that left her in a wheelchair. She knew that if she could rely on someone it had to be her. Ivy quickly grab her phone and started to called Evelyn "No, no, no," she internally lamented, staring at the blank signal bars on her phone. 

She rose with a newfound sense of urgency, grabbing her crutches, and heading to her closed in order to retrive a bigger backpack. She needed to grab supplies if she was going to leave her place and go to Evelyn's. 

Pulling out the bigger backpack from her closet, Ivy began mentally listing the essentials.

"Water, food, first-aid..."

She darted over to the kitchen, grabbing bottled water, a couple of protein bars, canned foods, and a can opener. As she loaded them into the bag, a memory surfaced - of a camping trip she once took with her family. The need for preparation, for essentials. Back then, it had been about fun and adventure; now, it was about survival.

"Okay, what's next? Medicine."

Rushing to the bathroom, she grabbed painkillers, bandages, and antiseptics.

She felt a pang of fear again. "What if this is a long-term thing? What if we're stuck like this for weeks? Months?"

She quickly shook off the intrusive thought. "Focus, Ivy."

Lastly, she went to her bedroom, grabbing a flashlight, spare batteries, and a small knife she kept in her drawer for protection.

Zipping up the bag, she saw her wheelchair sitting in the corner of the room. Ivy only used when she was in her home, she used her crutches when she had to go outside, they were slower than the wheelchair but they provide more precise movement.  "Would the wheelchair be better?" she pondered. "It's faster than crutches, especially if I need to carry this heavy bag, and if things get worse out there..." But the wheelchair was an older model, it wouldn't last that much outside and also she tought about the stairs. Taking a deep breath, Ivy weighed her options. Looking down at her legs she had to make a decision. The wheelchair, although faster in a straight line, might become more of a burden.

She could almost visualize the potential problems: getting the wheelchair over a broken sidewalk, navigating tight crowds if she encountered them, or even worse, needing to quickly ascend or descend stairs.

"Think, Ivy, think. You've navigated this city for years. You know its ins and outs," she told herself. Her heart raced as she replayed scenes from earlier – the growing panic, the crashed ambulance, and the unsettling movement she'd glimpsed inside it.

She looked down at the wheelchair, then at her crutches. The comfort and speed of the wheelchair were tempting, but she knew her crutches, despite their challenges, offered adaptability.

A sudden noise outside her window snapped her back to the present. Her decision became clear. "Crutches it is," she muttered, strapping the backpack securely. "Speed is crucial, but maneuverability is key," she thought. With a sense of resolve, she unlocked her door, taking a deep breath before stepping out into the unknown, determined to reach Evelyn.

Evelyn lived in the second floor of the apartment building next to her's.

Navigating through the corridor of her own building, Ivy tried to move as fast as she could. Moving her left leg towards her as far as she could then putting her crutches in front of her. Each step she took was practiced, a dance she had mastered over years. Her left leg, with its slight inward bend, had its own rhythm – a slight drag, a pull, and then a propelling forward with the help of the crutches. The rubber tips of her crutches gripped the cold tile floor, offering support and stability with each advance.

Reaching the exterior door of her building, she cautiously peered outside. The courtyard that separated her building from Evelyn's looked clear.

Taking a deep breath, Ivy swiftly moved across the courtyard. The soft clatter of her crutches sounded loud in her own ears, but she hoped it went unnoticed by anyone—or anything—else.

With every step she took, Ivy's mind raced. The weight of her backpack seemed to grow with each stride, but her focus was razor-sharp.

"Okay, Ivy. Halfway there," she whispered to herself as she crossed the midpoint of the courtyard.

As she neared the other side, her thoughts turned to Evelyn. She remembered a day when Evelyn had shared stories from her army days, the kind of scenarios she had been trained for. "If anyone's prepared for something like this, it's her," Ivy thought. The reassurance was palpable, even as uncertainty continued to swirl around her.

The thought of seeing her friend, of finding solace with someone she trusted, propelled her forward. The courtyard, which on any normal day would've felt like a brief, insignificant stretch, now felt like a vast expanse.

"Almost there," she murmured to herself, glancing briefly back to the entrance of her own building. "Just a bit further." She didn't want to think about what she might find once she reached Evelyn's door, but she held onto hope. Hope was essential in times like these.

Reaching the door to Evelyn's building, Ivy felt a momentary relief. But the hard part was still ahead. Evelyn's apartment was on the second floor, which meant stairs or the elevator. She knew that taking the elavator would be the easier option, but if the elevator broke down while she was inside of it? No one would be abled to help her.

The thought of being trapped in a confined space, helpless and alone, sent a shiver down Ivy's spine.

"Stairs it is," she concluded. She remembered all the times she had ascended those stairs, with Evelyn waiting for her at the top, cheering her on or cracking a joke to lighten the mood.

She approached the stairwell, looking up. "Good thing i choose my crutches, okay, Ivy, you've done this countless times," she thought, positioning herself parallel to the first step, facing the railing. "First, crutch on the step. Good." She moved one of her crutches to the step above. "Then, grip the railing tight." She squeezed the rail with her free hand, feeling the cold metal beneath her fingers.

"Now, the lift." Using her upper body strength, she pulled herself up, guiding her left foot onto the step, ensuring it was placed securely. "Always make sure it's grounded," she silently reminded herself.

"Next, the other crutch." Carefully, she shifted her weight, placing the second crutch beside the first. "Step secured," she mentally checked off.

Breathing heavily, Ivy continued her ascent. "Why did Evelyn have to pick an apartment on the second floor?" she thought, feeling her muscles strain. At the halfway mark, Ivy looked up to gauge the remaining distance. "So many more to go," she muttered under her breath, wiping away the beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

"Come on, Ivy. One step at a time," she silently encouraged herself. She gripped the railing and crutches tighter, pushing through the burn in her arms and shoulders.

She could faintly hear the noise from outside growing distant, but she didn’t want to waste time pondering about it. Her main concern was to get to Evelyn's apartment.

A few more painstaking steps and Ivy reached the top. Relief washed over her. She took a moment to catch her breath, then hurried down the hallway towards Evelyn's door.