This is a story inspired by the wonderful photography that 
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It wasn’t always this way. Earth used to be abundant with life. People were everywhere, cities were teeming, and people were well off. We had cured hunger, diseases were disappearing except for certain parts of the world that had refused to assimilate, and society was flourishing. We were in space, with a small, but sturdy colony on the moon used to process our asteroid mining operations.
But then they came. The Vrosk. Nine feet tall with grey skin, slits for nostrils, not a single hair on their body, and eyes wide and black. First they took out the colony on the moon, reducing it to rubble in minutes. Our fight on Earth was more valiant, but it too was over before it really started. The reality was the Vrosk were more technologically advanced and came in superior numbers.
So we humans did what we do best. We blew everything sky high. With our numbers already depleted by billions, we didn’t hesitate to launch our nuclear arsenals. Thousands of nukes hit ships in the sky, armies on the ground, and all the cities where the Vrosk were concentrating. If we couldn’t have Earth, well fuck it, they couldn’t have it either. If humanity excelled at one emotion, it was spite.
And for twenty-five years, there was nuclear winter. And there were skirmishes between any human survivors and remnant Vrosk. They hadn’t been heard of since the major nuclear war, but there were rumors that more ships would come. The vanguard was always following behind the invading army.
“I’m not sure we should be out here, Blair. There were reports of a Vrosk scout last night.”
“Stop worrying so much, Logan. We need to get food for the tribe.”
Blair and Logan had been born about seven years after the nukes had been launched. Their families had somehow stayed alive and worked together to find food, shelter, uninfected water, and fight off attacks from both Vrosk survivors and bandits. So they had grown up together, learning how to work together, fight together, and ultimately, survive together.
Life had returned to normal on Earth except for humanity. Numbers were weak; maybe in the millions, but nowhere near the billions that it had once been. Blair and Logan were two in a tribe of 200, which had set up their village in the mountains. Trees were sparse, making cover dangerous, but so long as they stayed high enough, they were safe.
Crouching down, Blair held up her hand, motioning for Logan to get low and quiet. Her eyes narrowed and they move back and forth quickly. She reached back and pulled a long, narrow bow from her back. She then grabbed an arrow from the quiver and placed the edge of it against the string.
She looked down the arrow, one eye closed, and took a deep breath. She pulled the arrow back, exhaled, and released the string. It flew fast and true, slamming into the neck of a large deer standing about one hundred meters away from them.
“Got it,” she whispered.
Immediately, Logan sprung up and bolted off in the direction of where the arrow had shot. He stopped after getting 100 meters and crouched to the ground, his finger reaching out to touch blood on the ground. Nodding his head, he rose and pulled a long, jagged knife from a sheath on his thigh before he broke off into a run again.
He ran across old, dilapidated roads and slid down the side of a hill as he followed the trail of blood on the ground. He ran passed a metal-space pod like object colored in taupe, white, and orange from a time pre-nuclear war. His boots crunched against grey rocks before he finally slid to a stop. Before his feet lie the deer, Blair’s arrow sticking out of its neck. Its side rose and fell, its eyes wide in fear.
Logan crouched down and ran his hand over the side of its face. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”
He then pressed the knife against its throat and then sliced across firmly. Between the arrow in its neck and then the knife across its throat, the deer died quickly. He wiped his blade across the now dead dear’s body and then slid it back into the sheath. Carefully, he pulled the arrow out of its throat and slid it into his pack. Never waste a good arrow.
Staying in a crouch, he pulled long rope from his pack and wrapped it around the body and around the legs, leaving another slack that he would be able to drag it. Only then did he stand up, grab the end of the rope, and start walking back toward where Blair had first taken her shot.
Again he walked passed the metal-space pod, its metal rusting over the years. And again, he walked up the mountain, his muscles aching as he dragged the 150-pound deer. It had only taken him about five minutes to finally catch the dying deer, but it took him nearly twenty to get back to where Blair was.
“Took you long enough,” she said.
“I brought you your arrow,” he replied and pulled it out of the pack.
Just as he reached into the pack, Blair’s eyes opened wide and she opened her mouth to scream.
But it didn’t matter. Suddenly, both of their bodies grew completely stiff, the rope dropping out of his hand, her bow landing on the ground next to her.
Two Vrosk scouts, wearing combat battle armor and carrying long battle rifles, closed the distance to the frozen Blair and Logan. One of them said something in the Vrosk language, but neither Blair or Logan could understand it. The other replied and looked down at the deer.
Each Vrosk threw the body of Logan or Blair over their shoulder and walked away, the larger of the two Vrosk dragging the deer behind them. All along, Blair and Logan stayed erect, their bodies unable to move despite hearing and feeling every sensation.
After walking for about fifteen minutes, they stopped next to two motorcycle looking vehicles. After a few minutes, Blair and Logan were tied to the back of the vehicles. Each Vrosk slid on, turned on the engine, and then sped off.
To Be Continued