In the year 2029, after the Great Supply Collapse, Enfamil and Similac were traded like spice on the Silk Road. Elias was a "Runner"—a man hired by desperate parents to find the last remaining stock in shuttered retail husks.

As his fingers brushed the cool metal, a sharp click-clack echoed from the entrance. It wasn't the wind. It was the sound of a heavy boot hitting linoleum. "Step away from the tin, Eli," a gravelly voice called out.

He wasn’t there for the strollers or the tiny, overpriced socks. He was there for the "Gold."

"I’ve got a mother in the East Ward with a kid who can't keep anything else down," Elias said, his voice steady despite the hammer of his heart. "She paid me in silver quarters. Real ones."