The beep of my metal detector rings through my ears. It tells me I found something made of metal, likely copper, and I reluctantly reach for my shovel to clear as much of the debris as I must to get to it. Shovel full after shovel full I dig deeper into the mound of what was once a house. After every few attempts checking with my detector to see if what I'm looking for is still unearthed. I can't help but be overwhelmed with thoughts of whose house this might have been, and what their life was like before it was ripped away and left behind. Others in my line of work tell me the importance of managing these thoughts lest I'm driven insane. Houses especially are my least favorite places to scavenge for resources. More times than not you are reminded of what life was like before the end, and how abruptly it all changed. Old portraits, scattered clothes and belongings, all a somber reminder of lives lost or broken. Children's toys especially were upsetting to find, as they brought thoughts of lost innocence and what they must have thought when everything came crashing down around them. Occasionally we would find a body or two and it was almost never a pretty sight. Luckily, we don't come across many victims anymore since most of the places we scavenge have already been picked through and we are just getting the leftovers. Some days are better than others when it comes to keeping these thoughts at bay, but today was especially hard. Every now and again I'd think of my home, not the place I'm living but the place I grew up. I’d wonder if it was still standing or if it was an unrecognizable heap of debris, like the one I find myself atop today. I wonder if anything I cherished was still intact or if it was all swept away. Maybe some other survivors had found it and made use of some of the things inside or maybe they even used it as shelter for a night or two. Somehow the thought of it still being habitable comforted me, like a part of me from before was still alive, still able to serve someone. I think further on all the landmarks I came to know growing up. The school I attended, the police station I found myself waking up in when I drank too much at that high school party, the park me and my friends would hang out nearly every day after school. Were any of these places still the way I remember?

  The crack of glass jolted me to life. I looked down to see a picture frame half buried in the debris. I reached down to pick it up out of the hole I dug, driven entirely by curiosity, completely ignoring what I had dug that hole for in the first place. It was a family portrait, a mother, a father, and two kids, son and daughter. Were any of the people in this picture still alive today, or did they all perish when met with the overwhelming force that leveled much of the world, and if so, was it quick? The horror stories I've heard of what people had to do to survive, the places they hid, the things they saw, I hoped for a moment that this family might have been spared the tragedies we all faced, no matter how unlikely.

  “Hey Jack,” a voice called out over the heap.

  Startled, I looked up to the top of the mound of debris to see my partner coming down towards me. His face covered in dirt and sweat, gave me a look like he was saying, oh not again.

  “Getting caught up in the past again, are we?” he questioned with a disapproving tone.

  “No.... just moving some things aside.” I responded, though I doubt he believed me.

  I threw the picture to the side and looked back down into the pit I was standing in. I could see a bit of old copper wire sticking out of the dirt and bent down to tug it loose. There wasn't much, and a bit of it was frayed, but anything was worth taking to get a meal at the end of the day. I looked back up at my co-worker and held up what I found.

  “Last find of the day,” I proclaimed as I tossed it to him.

  “I'm sure this will make all the difference,” he sarcastically remarked. “Come on, sun is setting, we got to get back to the yard.”

  I grabbed the gear I had and followed him back over the remains of the house we were searching. Coming into view over the hill of debris was the truck we came in, its bed full of various scrap and wood planks. I opened the back passenger door to stow my gear and proceeded upfront. After I slammed the door shut, I gave a sigh of relief that the workday was done, and I could finally rest. As I looked out the window, I could see the sky was beginning to turn orange as the sun set over the horizon.

  “So, Arthur, how much do you think we made today?” I asked

  “Well,” he thought for a moment. “The wood planks could be repurposed but most likely won't get us much. The nails sticking out of them, that might net something. The bucket of concrete mix, and those old tools you found could be useful. Worst-case scenario they pay us for the metal content of ‘em and smelt them down for something else. But the real money is in the heap of scrap metal we found, and that copper wire of course.” he smirked as he glanced over at me.

  “Yeah, I'm sure it will make us rich,” I chuckled under my breath.

  I looked back out the passenger window, watching as the derelict buildings and remains of what was likely a coherent and peaceful community pass by. I felt my eyes getting heavy and I began to drift off, the landscape flickering away as I fell asleep.

  Some time had passed since I dozed off. I lost track of how far we had gone from the worksite, and I could hear Arthur calling to me as I ascended out of my slumber.

  “Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up,” Arthur joked as he nudged me awake. “Look at that, didn't even need to give you a kiss.”

  I sat up in my seat rubbing my eyes as I began to make sense of my surroundings. It was one of those naps that leave you completely disoriented upon waking up, where for a moment you don't even remember where you are or what you were doing. As I looked out the window, I could see the J & R’s Scrap sign pass overhead as we drove into the scrap yard of which we both worked. We passed a handful of other trucks parked in off-loading spots with men emptying their contents and yelling inaudible commands and comments as they worked. We pulled into a spot of our own and Arthur killed the engine before swinging his door open. Just as he was about to hop out, he leaned back in towards me.

  “Oh, by the way, let the big guys grab the heavy stuff this time, like the scrap metal and whatnot. Just grab something light like the wood planks, or the smaller stuff. No need to kill yourself, it's the least they can do for sitting around all day waiting for us.” He slapped his hand down on my shoulder a couple of times, like a dad to his son. “You need to conserve as much of your energy as you can if we are going to get more of this crap tomorrow.”

  I opened the passenger door and stood up out of the truck getting a good long stretch as I slammed the door behind me. Two burly men were approaching the truck from the main warehouse, one of them pushing a large flatbed cart on four wheels. Arthur walked up to them, and I could see him commanding what he wanted from them while pointing at the truck. They opened the tailgate and started to unload our haul from the day with an urgency that told me they had much more to do before their workday was through. I took a moment to look back up at the sky, which was now almost completely black as the sun finished its retreat behind the shells of old skyscrapers.

  “Alright kid let's finish off strong,” Arthur motioned me towards the truck as he grabbed a handful of scraps from the bed.

  We worked tirelessly to fill the cart with everything we found all the while I was consumed with thoughts of how much this all was worth and if I could afford a day off this week. Once it was full, one of the men began to push it back towards the main building. He was followed shortly by Arthur, and I could overhear him telling the man where to bring it. I didn't pay too much attention to it though; I stayed focused on unloading what was left onto the ground so it would be ready for the next cart they would roll over. Arthur turned back towards the truck.

  “Jack,” he called out to me. “I'm going to start the paperwork and deal with the auditor, when your done meet me by weigh station two, ok?”

  I nodded in acknowledgment while staying focused on my task. I felt the end of the workday sapping my strength, but pushed through as hard as I could. I craved my bed with each moment, sometimes helping the other man with me lift items that were more difficult to move, just to make the whole process go by quicker. The second man returned with another cart, and they began to load all the things we got down while I grabbed the last few pieces left in the truck. I sprinkled the last bit of scrap onto the cart as the one man got ready to push it back towards the warehouse. I closed the bed of the truck relieved that all the heavy lifting for today was done, the click of the tailgate closing signaling it was all finished. I followed slowly back to the warehouse looking down at the gravel when a thought popped into my head. The same thought that regularly shows up when I'm reflecting on the day after all the work has been done. Is this it? Is this what life is now? Just sifting through the rubble, trying to make a meager living. Is this what I'll be doing until I die?

  When I walked into the open garage of the warehouse, I was overwhelmed by the sounds of people hard at work and the hum of machinery breaking down and sorting loads of scrap. I could see Arthur getting a bit heated with the auditor as they haggled over the worth of what we had collected. The two men that helped us unload our truck were moving the scrap metal that was on our carts onto a large scale. Arthur was writing down every number that would come up while continuing to bicker intensely with the auditor. Our job as scrap collectors was tough to say the least, labor intensive and downright miserable, but I wouldn't trade it to be an auditor. Yeah, they don't need to lift heavy metal beams or sift through garbage, but getting yelled at by desperate collectors that are fighting for their lives, and trying to feed their families, it's not a job for me. I'd probably feel bad for every scavenger that came to my weigh station. Likely would give each one premium prices the minute they felt they were being mistreated or gave me a nasty look. I'd probably get fired in a week. Honestly, I don't know if there is one comfortable job out there anymore, but I suppose that's how it is when you survive the apocalypse and try to rebuild society from the ground up.

  “See these nails, look.... look, they're still good some of them! Just got to be bent back into shape, but they’re still good!” Arthur barked at the auditor.

  “Fine, fine... I'll give you the construction price for em, just relax!”

  Full of pride Arthur turned towards me. “See that kid, you gotta fight for what's right!”

  I raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “Was it really worth it? Something that small doesn't make too much of a difference.”

  “Hey,” Arthur looked up from his clipboard and pointed towards me with an open hand. “Every penny counts. Could mean the difference between street gruel and a nice warm meal.”

  Arthur continued to negotiate with the auditor, as I turned to scan the rest of the weigh stations. It seemed like every weigh station was a fight. Everyone getting heated over prices and policy. I was surprised no one started swinging but judging by how my muscles ached I couldn't imagine any of them were up for an actual confrontation. All of them just wanted what they felt was owed. It wasn't always like this, things used to be more easy going, but competition has put a strain on the business. A few years ago, our boss Jimmy, the J in J & R’s, would fight tirelessly for his employes. He knew how much the people he employed were dependent on him and he took that responsibility to heart. He would get us the best contracts, which were claims on different debris fields around the city and its suburbs. Pieces of paper that said only our guys can scavenge this neighborhood for the time being. It may sound ridiculous, but it kept people from shooting each other over a pile of garbage, and there definitely were desperate scavengers and stiff competition that made those contracts a necessity.

  J & R’s was never the top scrap business but it certainly has gone down the tube in the last year. A combination of change in leadership and unwillingness to adapt has cost us many of our best contracts. We’d be lucky if we get a scrap heap that hasn’t been sifted through a dozen times. Rocco, who took over for Jimmy when he got sick, has his head so far up his own ass that just talking to the guy drives you insane. He couldn't be more out of touch with what we have to do on a daily basis to keep the whole operation afloat. I heard from a coworker that one of our elite scavengers asked for a raise and instead got fired just for asking. I suppose I should explain, an elite scavenger is someone in the business that gets a base pay. They don’t have to just rely on the pay generated from the scrap they collect, so they’ll always go home with something in their pocket. Usually, a combination of good performance and having responsibilities outside of work, like a family, qualify you for such a premotion. Not every scrap business runs by this model, but for smaller operations like J & R’s it's become a pretty regular thing. Now that I think of it, I swear I remember hearing that old Jimmy was one of the ones that first implemented the idea. It was one of the ways he helped the people under him. Rocco clearly doesn't respect it. I've been working this job for a while now and not once was I considered for the promotion. In my first year I tried my hardest to get noticed and make my case but since then I've given up on the idea of it ever coming to fruition. Arthur on the other hand, he's been an elite for as long as I've known him, but I'm not mad about it. He has a wife and kid, so I completely understand why he got it. Me? I don't have anyone who depends on me.

  Lately though, with everything the way it's been, a rift has widened between the elites and the ones who aren't. The strain it puts on the entire J & R crew has led to growing resentment and an uneasiness that makes you think a riot could start up at any moment. To top it all off I heard rumors that management might disband the elite program all together. Many of the elites, Arthur included, said if they did that, they would strike. Though, knowing how dependent they are on the bonus, I doubt the strike would last very long, if it would happen at all. Too many of these guys are working day to day just to cover the cost of living, so many of them likely couldn't afford it. I looked back over to Arthur who was finishing up with the auditor and getting our payout.

  He turned to me and presented me with a small wad of cash. “Your cut of the day,” he stated as he shoved his share in his back pocket. “So how about we get something to eat? Maybe that small place off main I told you about the other day. I'm starved, and you look like you could use a good meal.” He looked me up and down with a raised eyebrow, “you’re not just getting by on rations, are you?”

  I looked down at what I was given. Fifty-two New World credits, the centralized currency of Center City. Whoever came up with the name certainly had an optimistic view on how the world would recover, but mostly the name is mocked by nearly everyone. Most people refer to them as Center City credits or triple c’s. I thought about it for the moment, considering if I could afford to eat out tonight. For sure this was one of the better hauls we’ve had, but if I made a habit of spending more when I made more, I’d never be able to improve my situation. I looked back up at Arthur, and I'm sure he could see I was conflicted. Before I could say anything, he interjected.

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  “How ‘bout I get the first round of drinks, what do you say?”

  I smirked in response, “alright, if you insist.”

  “Thats my boy, trust me you won't be disappointed,” he endearingly put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in for a moment as we walked out the door.

  The streets were packed with people of all sorts as we navigated to our destination. Most streets of the city no longer support cars, instead shacks and makeshift storefronts clutter what used to be busy roadways. As the night proceeded, the chaos grew exponentially, as more and more people got off work and joined the nightlife of Center City. Advertisers called out to would be customers selling a variety of goods and services but were quickly drowned out by the passing crowds. We were now walking down main street, only a few blocks from our destination, when we passed a large mural that caught my eye. It wasn't the first time I've seen it, but I always find myself getting lost in it whenever I'm in this part of the city. The mural was large, nearly two stories tall, and it spanned the whole length of the building. It depicted a city scape with the sun rising behind it. It likely represented the dawn of a new day, a theme that persisted throughout the city in almost every way imaginable, regardless of how empty it truly felt. It was a commemoration to the millions of lives lost during a two-week period known to the survivors as the purge. Littered all over the mural were the names of loved ones that didn't make it, likely added by whoever did survive. One part in specific always drew my gaze, the spot where I wrote my parents' names not long after I arrived in the city. When I made my contribution all those years ago, I thought it seemed like a fitting way to pay my respects to them, but now it seems to haunt me. I feel that I'm constantly reminded of what I went through, what we all went through, and there is no hope of ever escaping it. I thought it would alleviate my grief, like a fitting way to get some closure. Instead, it was more akin to an open wound that wouldn't close, festering with infection and pain. A few times I thought about painting over their names, or maybe just avoiding this part of the city altogether, but I find myself obsessively checking up on it to make sure no one covered it up with their own inscriptions.

  We continued down main street until we turned down a side road so narrow you couldn't fit a truck down it even if you wanted to. It wasn't as crowded with people as the street we had just left, giving a sensation of finally being able to breathe, even though the sky was completely blocked by makeshift structures jutting from the old buildings. The structures on both sides came together overhead making this road feel more like a cramped alleyway or tunnel. We approached an open window in the side of one of the shacks and took our place in a line of hungry people. I gazed in the window and could see several grills and friers with a few workers scrambling around preparing food for everyone who came to order. Above the window hung a menu with various fried foods and sandwiches listed. I inspected it thoroughly trying to determine what I would order, mainly focusing on the prices listed as opposed to what they were for.

  “Thinking of going with the fried chicken sandwich with some fries on the side, what about you? Anything catch your eye?” Arthur looked at me waiting for an answer.

  I hesitated for a moment while still looking over the menu. “I don't know maybe.... maybe I'll just go with the nuggets.”

  “Seriously? Nothing else? Thats it?” Arthur looked at me dazed.

  I could tell he was disappointed at my frugalness. I looked back at him and shrugged with a slight smirk on my face.

  “Alright, I get it. Shouldn't get upset with you saving your money.”

  “Next!” yelled the man at the window.

  Arthur ordered his food and two beers, then stepped to the side to wait. I stepped up to the window and ordered what I was going to eat, then joined him in the waiting area. The food came out pretty quick, not unlike fast food joints that were popular before the purge. Once we had everything, we turned to find a table along the road. When we found a place to sit, I wasted no time digging in and chugging the beer Arthur had got me. It tasted heavenly, and it felt like I hadn't eaten in weeks.

  “I know you’re hungry, but it aint a race,” Arthur chuckled at the sight of my gusto.

  I looked up from my food and met his gaze with a smile. Suddenly, my attention was drawn to a man over Arthur's shoulder. The man was across the street, give or take fifty feet away. He spouted off sentence after sentence, preaching to the people who passed by, paying him no mind.

  “THEY WATCH US TO THIS VERY DAY,” the man shouted. “KEEN ON INSURING WE DONT BOUNCE BACK AS A SOCIETY! THEY WANT ALL OF US! THEY WANT ALL OF US TO BE DEAD AND ROTTING......”

  Arthur noticed me staring over his shoulder and turned to see what I was so fixed on. When he turned back to his food, I could see him roll his eyes in disapproval of what the man was yelling about.

  “God damn lunatic,” he said as he focused back on his meal.

  “What's the point of being out here yelling about this stuff, I just don't get it,” I said.

  Arthur looked back up at me, and I could tell he was fired up about it. “Those madmen are just out here to push legislation! Whether they’re directly involved or just got inspired by someone pushing the narrative, they’re trying to get people scared, all so that the ones in charge can justify defense spending on weapons we don't need just in case those Things come back down here and try to finish the job!” He took another bite and continued. “But you know what? If they did want us all gone, they wouldn't have left in the first place. We wouldn't be talking about it right now if they had. Plus, even when we were at our best, with all our tanks and missiles, we didn't even stand a chance, so what difference does it make?”

  Arthur was right. Humanities best weapons and technology didn't even compare to what They had. When they first showed up, they introduced themselves as the Protectors of the Galaxy, a conglomerate of hundreds of alien species from all over the Milky Way representing some galactic government that finally decided we were worth contacting. They came in a fleet of ships capable of traveling thousands of light years in a matter of seconds, something we weren't even close to achieving, condemned to live in science fiction for the foreseeable future. When they first spoke to the public they promised all sorts of things. They claimed they would end world hunger, cure our most pervasive diseases, and end our wars. They were welcomed with open arms, but for every person that accepted them, there was one who was skeptical. Seemingly overnight a war unlike anything humanity has ever witnessed unfolded. Resistance movements turned into full on militias as people all across the world were forced to choose a side, the Protectors and the humans who supported them or the humans who were against them.

  The war dragged on for nearly nine months. Entire countries were turned into battlefields. Even the United States, which in past wars tended to seem far removed from the actual fighting, was host to these conflicts. Cities and rural countryside alike were engulfed in flames as the fighting persisted. While it was by far the most humbling war the earth had yet seen, it was pale in comparison to what would come next. Just as we rounded into the ninth month something had changed, and the Protectors who had promised us salvation turned their weapons on the ones who had sworn to their cause. The purge began suddenly and without warning. For all the time they were here they seemed somewhat manageable, but in an instant, they became an unstoppable force that nothing in our arsenal could handle. It was estimated that nearly a quarter of humanity was wiped out on the first day alone. By the time the purge was finished ninety seven percent of all humans were dead. Only a couple hundred million remained scattered across a scarred world. No one knows exactly why they left or if they ever plan on coming back, but rumors persist.

  I raised my beer over my head as I got the last drops, then triumphantly slammed it back down onto the table. I looked back down at my plate, double checking to make sure I left nothing behind. I was just about ready to leave and head home when Arthur motioned to me.

  “How ‘bout one more round of beers on me? You did good today. I think you earned it.” He smiled as he stood up, ready to jump at the opportunity.

  I thought for a moment, trying to come up with some sort of excuse to head home, but couldn't think of anything. “Sure, why not?”

  “Alright! I'll go get ‘em, you hold down the fort.”

  Arthur got back on the food line to get two more beers as I sat scanning the crowds passing by, until I met eyes with someone I haven't seen in a long time. As soon as I did, I could see that they recognized me, and he waved out his hand to confirm I recognized him. I waved back hesitantly. I wasn't exactly in the mood for any reunions and as he strode towards me, I was already anticipating what small talk he would muster up. I wasn't exactly proud of the work I did and judging by what he was wearing he looked like a city guard or mercenary, certainly a much higher paying job. He was definitely more well off than I was. As he got closer, I could tell his hair was gelled back. Hair gel is one of those products that today are considered a luxury good. The only people who buy it anymore are the ones with disposable income. I thought for a moment if there was a way I could escape, but ditching Arthur would have likely caused me more grief in the long run.

  “Jack! Damn it's been a long time! You remember me, right? The way you waved back gave me the impression you weren't sure who I was.”

  “No, I remember you, James. I'm just tired, that's all.”

  “Good, I'm glad.” He gave me an ear-to-ear smile as he sat down at the table.

  James and I were part of a group of people that came to Center City about four years ago. Out of all the people we were with, James was one of the ones I was closest to. I couldn't say I knew him that well, though. We were both survivors just trying to piece together what was left of our lives and make it through another day. We lost touch not long after arriving in the city and this is the first time I've seen him since.

  “So, how’ve you been? What are you up to lately?”

  I looked down while raising my eyebrows. “Oh, you know, just trying to make it through another day.”

  “Yeah, but I mean what do you do for work?”

  I paused for a moment. I thought about lying and saying that I worked for some prestigious company, but what would it accomplish? Instead, I decided to tell him the truth. “I'm a scrap collector. I work down at J & R’s scrap yard.”

  He seemed a bit surprised, but quickly dismissed it. “Scrap collector...... not bad. That's some honest work, and I bet you get a good work out too. Stay in shape, right?”

  His positivity revolving around my job was starting to irritate me. I felt like if he said one more thing about what I did for a living I was going to snap. I was just about to change the subject when I noticed Arthur standing behind James.

  “Ahem...”

  James turned and looked up at Arthur. “Oh, sorry. This your seat?” James quickly stood up and shifted to the side of the table, allowing Arthur to sit down. James extended his hand out with a smile, “James Torres, nice to meetcha.”

  Arthur seemed skeptical but shook his hand. “Arthur Gallo.”

  “Guessing you two work together?”

  “Thats right.” Arthur responded cautiously, almost like he anticipated James to start selling something we didn't need. “So, how can we help ya?”

  “Oh, me and Jack are old friends. We're just catching up.”

  “Old friends huh? Didn't realize Jack had any friends, other than me of course.” Arthur bellowed out a laugh. “So, what's with the get up? You a city guard, or something?”

  James chuckled, “close, but no. I actually run security for long range expeditions to and from East City.”

  “Huh,” Arthur sat back in his chair surprised. “So, you’re one of those guys that head out into the expanse for a living. You must be crazy for going out there so often.”

  “Eh, it's not as bad as everyone thinks,” James responded. “Sure, we run into raiders every now and again, but most of the time we go the whole journey without running into any problems.” James turned back towards me. “If you’re ever looking for a change of scenery, we are always looking for new recruits.”

  I was stunned! I never considered a job like that before, and the more I thought about it, the more curious I got. “What would you need to qualify for a job like that?”

  “Just got to be able to follow orders... and it helps if you know your way around a gun. How good of a shot are you?”

  I felt like I was put on the spot. Even though I wasn't completely sold on changing my job, I didn't want to ruin any opportunity I might have. I’ve gone shooting with my dad a couple times at the range growing up, but I haven't touched a gun in years. I can't imagine I was any good.

  “I'm decent. Haven't shot in a while though,” I lied.

  “Well, I'm gearing up for an expedition in a couple weeks.” James pulled out a scrap of paper and began to write something down. “If you're interested, you can head down to this address tomorrow morning. Tell them I sent ya.” He handed me the piece of paper and smiled.

  As I grabbed the paper, I could see a scowl on Arthur's face. I looked back to James, “yeah, I’ll think about it. Thanks"

  James looked down at his watch and let out a loud sigh. “I should get out of here. I’ll leave you guys to your beers.” He nodded to both of us. “Arthur... Jack.”

  As James left, I inspected the paper he gave me. Was this really happening? Did I finally have a chance to change my life? Was it the kind of change I wanted, though?

  “You’re not seriously thinking about taking that job, are you?”

  I rested my cheek on my hand. “I don’t know. I just like to have options, I guess. Maybe just a little dreaming.”

  “Well, dream about something else!” Arthur took a heavy swig of his beer. “Look, life in the expanse aint easy. He may have made it sound like it is, but I can assure you that he left a few details out.”

  “What would you know about the expanse, Arthur?”

  Arthur slammed his beer down and yelled, “I know a lot more than you do, kid! You may have been flown in here from whatever hole you were hiding in after the purge, but me and my family... we walked here from our home, and it was hell! Yeah, life in Center City ain't easy for people like you and me, but it's predictable. You wake up, break your back at work, eat, go to sleep, then you wake up and do it again. Life out there though, you don't know what's gonna happen each day. The stress alone from that will kill ya. Plus, you got all those people's lives you’re responsible for...” He shook his head in disapproval. “If I were you, I'd throw that piece of paper away and forget about it.”

  “You certainly make a good point.” I looked down in disappointment.

  “Also, if you don't show up for work tomorrow the boss would have your head. You'd never even see the expanse.” Arthur finished off his beer and stood up. “I think I've had my fill of crazy people today. I'll see you tomorrow morning. Throw out that paper.”

  Arthur stormed off. I suppose I can't blame him though. If I did take this opportunity and didn't show up for work tomorrow, he would suffer the consequences for sure. Arthurs getting older and he can't lift like he could even a couple months ago. My absence would certainly cut into his bottom line. Sure, he would get a new partner fairly quick, but tomorrow he’d have no one. Like I said before, many of these guys can't afford one day without work. Is that my responsibility though? Do I have to make compromises with my life just so others don't have to face hardship?

  A part of me wanted to take this new job and forget about everyone I’d leave behind. I wanted out of my routine so bad that I would do just about anything. Now the opportunity was in front of me, and I couldn't ignore it. It was like I was at the edge of a cliff. One that I said I would jump off if I ever found myself at, but now that I was there, I had doubts. Arthurs words rang through my ears. Should I trust what Arthur had to say and continue a life that didn't feel like my own? Or should I put my faith in James, and stride out into the wild expanse, unsure what would come next? The thing that bothered me the most about going with the expedition, was the question of if I have what it takes? Would I even survive?

  I looked back over at my beer which only had a few sips left. The buzz of the alcohol rushed through my veins, but it didn't make me feel good. Instead, I felt defeated. I felt no matter what choice I made; I was disappointing someone. I finished my drink and picked myself up. I tossed the bottles I had into a recycling bin on the side of the road and began my walk home. The whole time I went back and forth on what I would do. I'd think about what I would be doing tomorrow if I stuck to my current way of life. All the heavy lifting and hauling of junk, yearning for the end of the day so I could rest, just to do it all again the next day. The thought disgusted me, so much so that I thought fondly of joining the expedition and starting a new chapter in my life. Only then was I overwhelmed with fear of what I might face out in the expanse. Would this new job actually be better? I might finally escape all of the things I hate about being a scrap collector only to have them replaced with new dislikes for a job I frankly know nothing about. It was a leap of faith, and I wasn't sure I had the constitution to jump.

  I walked through the door of where I've been staying. It lacked basic amenities, and I didn't have many belongings to fill it out. It was simply a place to sleep. I collapsed into my bed and gave a sigh of relief. I turned over onto my back and stared at the pitch-black ceiling. I didn't put much faith in God nowadays, but I prayed that an answer would come to me by morning. I felt the weight of fatigue setting in as my eyes closed. Only one thought repeated itself as I fell asleep. What should I do?