The *Avalanche* cut through the thick, green-tinged fog, its engines a low hum as it skirted the coastline of the ruined city. The skeletal remains of skyscrapers loomed in the distance, their broken windows like hollow eyes staring out at the dead sea. The air was thick with the stench of decay and something sharper—chemical, metallic, clinging to the back of their throats even through their masks.
Evelyn stood at the helm, her fingers tight around the wheel as she scanned the shoreline through binoculars. The city's main port was a graveyard of half-sunken ships and collapsed cranes, but to the west, beyond the urban sprawl, the land gave way to dense forest and a crescent of beach that had once been pristine. Now, it was strewn with debris, but it was their best shot.
"We're not docking near the city," she said, lowering the binoculars. "West beach. It's isolated, and the tree line will give us cover."
