"Did you find anything?" Robbie asked as he rifled through the rubble. His hands were caked with dirt and dust, and a cobweb was stuck to his face. "Ow, damn it."

Pulling the spider's web from his hair, he glared at the tiny arachnid attached to it. "Look, buddy, I'm sorry, but I'm kinda in a hurry here," he told the spider, carefully setting the web and its occupant onto a nearby rock. The little thing scurried away, clearly offended at the wanton destruction of its home.

He resumed his digging, his brow furrowed. Robbie's little brother, Gabe, had been without his wheelchair for three days now, after a group of rowdy kids had smashed it to bits. Robbie had cobbled the wheelchair together himself out of old scrap; it was ugly, squeaky, and barely functional, but it was better than nothing. He and his best friend had been going out in the mornings, scavenging the ruined side of the slums for parts. Nobody ever came here; a plague had wiped out the residents and undead were everywhere at night. The mornings were safer, though, and Gabe was growing increasingly distressed without the chair, so they'd decided it was worth the risk.

His younger brother was the reason Robbie had taken to braving the ruins, picking pockets, and doing odd jobs for the local crime boss. Life in the slums was hard, especially for an eleven-year-old orphan; his saving grace was his best friend, another urchin stuck doing jobs for the mob. They were a team through thick and thin, and Robbie would've died for his friend if it came to it. The three lived together in the shack Robbie's parents had left behind when they died, and their little family was the only good thing in the boy's life.

An eerie blue glow caught the corner of his eye, and he glanced up to see a translucent figure hovering ominously in the distance. "Oh shoot," he muttered under his breath, scrambling to his feet and grabbing his friend by the arm. "We gotta go. We gotta go right now."