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In the last year and a half since Rebecca had been on her own in this fucked-up world, she noticed a few things in regard to these creatures that were now focused solely on feeding. Since they were already dead, they wouldn’t starve to death. They became slow, immobile in some cases, and in some kind of hibernating state until fresh meat was near. And then it was like they had renewed energy, able to track and hunt in packs.
She turned away from the window and stared at her small hovel of a home now. A pallet of holey, dirty blankets and a sleeping bag were in one corner. She had made a makeshift propane stove that was on the other side, and a bucket and a roll of toilet paper for her daily business, and overall, the sight was pathetic and depressing. Her propane had run out yesterday.
The small bags of jerky she had and the few cans of baked beans were nearing their end, and if she stayed here any longer without stocking up on her supplies, it would only get worse. Although sleep wouldn’t come to her tonight, she would start supply searching in the morning. It was safer that way, since she only had a few flashlights with working batteries.
Moving over to her pallet, she covered herself with the blankets, closed her eyes, and pictured her life before all this. It was a memory she went back to over and over and over again. But it soothed her, and those memories were all she had anymore.
The world was an evil, hate-filled place now, dangerous and not friendly, and although a year and a half was a long time, being alone was what suited her now.
She knew the horrors that waited for her out there, had experienced a few of them firsthand too. Rebecca was more content in this life, by herself, than surrounded by the ugliness human existence had succumbed to.
She covered her face with the blanket, feeling the chill of the winter air coming in through the dilapidated warehouse. It was November. Winter had already settled in, and she was surviving just by the skin of her teeth.
Life was even now bleaker and more hopeless, and she didn’t know how much longer she could last. She didn’t know how much longer she wanted to last.
4
Collin scooped out a peach from the rusted-as-fuck can and stared at the fire in front of him. He was alone, but he welcomed the solitude… to a point. It had been a long time since he actually interacted with another human being.
Oh, there had been a few altercations in the last six months or so since he’d left the group of men he’d been traveling with. And those altercations had ended up in a few dead bodies, some maimed assholes, and a whole lot of violence. Collin knew that life well, had known it before all hell broke loose and civilization ended.
But this life now meant everyone was out for themselves, took care of no one but their own skins, and that was how it should be.
But even though Collin liked his solitary life now, that didn’t mean he wasn’t looking for a female. He wanted one, needed a woman like he needed to breathe, and he wouldn’t stop until he found one. He had thought he found one months ago. But it turned out the woman who had been taken by the group of men he’d been with wasn’t what or who he needed.
He hadn’t backed off because Sparrow had two men with her, watching over her, claiming her as their own. It was because when he actually had her in his grasp, taken her away from the people she had been with, Collin realized this wasn’t what he wanted.
He wanted a woman to come to him, to want him because she was desperate for human contact that wasn’t tainted by this life.
But although he’d been searching for a woman since letting Sparrow leave, that didn’t mean he’d actually find one. The ones he’d come across had been with groups, loyal to those members, and so rundown in appearance and spirit that they hadn’t been what he wanted either. Collin was specific in the taste he had, the darker aspects of pleasure he wanted, and although he wasn’t hopeful of finding a female for his own, he was also not a man who gave up.
But the desires he had once harbored in his former life didn’t much matter in this world. Just finding a woman to be only his, to protect and give hope and meaning to this hell, would make him keep going.
He thought back to the night he let Sparrow leave. He had given her his gun, told her to run, and prayed that she would survive. Then he had taken his knife and killed every one of those flesh-eating motherfuckers when they had come after him. The night had been bloody, grisly, and then it was like an animal had broken loose inside him.
