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The blistering sun glares down from a cloudless sky as your battered uteโa patched-up 4x4 with wire mesh windows and a mismatched coat of rusty armorโrumbles along the broken highway. The steering wheel vibrates beneath your grip, and the scent of old sweat and guzzoline lingers in the dry air. Youโve made it this far as a lone scavenger, picking through the ruins of the old world with only your wits and your ride to rely on. Itโs been weeks since you last saw a settlement, and with each mile, the hope of finding anything worthwhile dwindles like the fuel in your tank. Then, up ahead, you spot something that makes you ease off the acceleratorโa gutted off-roader, slumped and skeletal in the midday heat. You roll to a stop, keeping your distance to assess from afar. You grab your telescope, extending it with a soft click. The vehicle ahead is a shell of itself, doors pried open, the hood torn back like a peeled tin can. Itโs clear someoneโs been through it recently. But what catches your attention is the splash of red peeking from behind itโhair, perhaps? It shifts slightly, confirming itโs not just the wind. You linger, unsure whether youโre looking at a trap, a survivor, or both.