One |

The knife whizzed through the air and buried it's sharp point into the squirrels skull. It twitched for a mere second before dropping from the low hanging branch and onto the grass. The shot was perfect considering I had been standing a good foot away.

With care, I picked it up by it's skinny little tail. The tail however, wasn't the skinniest part of the little creature but it was all the food around for the time being and started making my way back to my base. My so called base was set up by a quiet creek.  Consisting of a small, simple fold up tent, with a small fire pit and thick rope hanging from a tree. The rope was used to hang anything I caught in order to skin and gut it more effectively.

As useful as the place was for now, I knew I'd be having to move soon. No place was safe to dwell in for too long. Especially in an area surrounded by trees. At least in clearings I could see what was coming. My eyes drifted to the darkening sky, tomorrow I'd move out but tonight I'd enjoy my skinny squirrel.

A chuckle escaped my lips as I strung up the little creature and I hummed a little tune while I pulled the knife from it's skull and used the same sharp point to cut a shallow slit from the base of its neck to above its bladder.

Its insides splattered across the grass and I worked at cutting the edible chunks off the bone. With fresh animals unless you had a lot of salt, and sunlight to thoroughly dry out the meat then you needed to cook it before the meat went bad – that could happen in mere minutes.

With night quickly approaching, I started the fire before placing the chunks onto a few forks then stuck the handle into the ground so the flames could lick at the meat. As they cooked, the smell over powered my nose and I contemplated eating them almost raw – I was near starving. However, I couldn't afford to get sick off whatever the squirrel could be carrying.

So, I busied myself with cleaning up my base and shoving anything I needed to take with me into my travel bag. It wasn't much – two bottles full of (previously boiled creek water), a metal flask also full of the boiled water, a sweater, an extra pair of panties and socks, a pair of shorts, two more thin sharp knives, a bottle of vodka, a lighter, a small towel, bar of soap and a few bandages. That left enough room for my small tent to be folded up and shoved in there as well as my piece of rope – which I paced as I wouldn't need it until the next location.

Other then what was in my bag, I dressed in a pair of loose, thick leggings, brown boots, a black tank top, then my loaded glock which I kept in a holster around my waist with the knife (that I used for the squirrel), watch strapped to my wrist and a razor blade I kept tucked into my sock.

Finally, the chunks were done as the sun disappeared in the sky in replace for the moon and I covered the fire with dirt before shoving the chunks into my mouth as quickly as I could while drool dripped down my chin.

Once the meat was eaten, and my stomach was less empty then previously; I climbed into the tent zipping it up tightly and closing my eyes. The only times I could have the fire going was dusk and dawn, any other times the brightness at night or the smoke during the day would lure them straight to me and I'd end up dead. If I slept as soon as the fire was out, I'd still be warm during my sleep.

Sleep these days were never easy.

Dark green eyes. Much like my own, except these ones came with a greying beard and warm smile. Dad always smiled at me no matter what. Now, he smiled at me as he handed over his only gun.

"There should never be a situation where you need to ever fire a gun but if you do, fire and run. Don't stick around to see where the bullet lands," he spoke softly as my little fingers gripped the gun tightly as if it could disappear at any second.

"What if there's too many to run?" I asked afraid.

He smiled sadly at me.

"Then make sure you have one bullet left for yourself," he swallowed then passed me the rest of the half empty can of peas, "eat up Mira. We have a long journey tomorrow."

Something cold and wet hit the side of my face jolting me awake. I peeled my eyes open slowly, rising out of my dreaming state and slowly looked around then my eyes locked on my watch. I frowned, concerned. The tent was dark – darker than it should be. Another splash – on my forehead this time and my eyes rolled up to the top of the tent. A hole was collecting water and dropping them down. A crackle in the distance sent dreadful shivers down my spine. It was raining out – no, storming.

Fuck. This wasn't good. I had to move. The rain and clouds made me even more vulnerable and due to the rain now I couldn't take my tent. It would only soak the inside of my bag and add extra weight I probably couldn't carry.

I shoved my tent open, and crawled outside – the rain was heavy but not yet pouring. That was a good sign, I had time to move and try to find some shelter. I was taught to avoid buildings – buildings meant population at one point which meant now there would surely be Bitters there. But it would be safer than out in the rain where I couldn't see, nor hear anything.

Another wave of thunder in the distance and my bag was starting to get heavy with the rain. I started running through the trees – jumping clear over uprooted plants and roots, and ducking under low branches. Rain was hitting me square in the face and with my wet clothing, I was starting to get cold and now tired. In the distance I spotted a patch of dark grey ground and a break in the trees. 

Knowing it would be a road, I slowed my running to a brisk walk and gulped in air, desperately trying to catch my breath. Thinking back, it was stupid to run. With this close to a road, I had to be careful for Bitters now more than ever.

I moved slowly, doing my best not to shiver. Once I got to the line of trees I ducked down into a crouch and moved forward. The road seemed empty and promising, so I kept to the side and got out of my crouch relaxing more but still keeping my guard up.

By the time the road led me to a small cottage home, I was completely soaked and exhausted. I had been walking for an hour now, and the rain had turned into a heavy, brutal storm. I didn't ever want to enter an unknown building but I had to get out of the rain. Maybe the home even had some canned food but I doubted it.

The windows were cracked – a few broken, but the front door seemed to be in working order. My fingers pushed the door open slowly, wincing at the creaking sound that now seemed louder than the storm. The house was a complete mess – dirt and dust covered everything, the air was thick with a foul smell, furniture was destroyed, the carpet was ripped into pieces, glass littered the floor and papers covered the floor now stained brown.

I moved deeper into the house, my knife in hand and my eyes skimming the place immensely. Overall, the place was empty – it was a small home: only one floor with a tiny bathroom, kitchen, Livingroom and bedroom. Luckily, it seemed like the windows in the bedroom were only cracked and not broken. The bed holding only a stained mattress and the bones of some sort of animal, the dresser was empty but searching the closet seemed more promising.

Inside revealed a king size comforter set (which I happily pulled out to the living room), and a few scraps of large men's shirts. I pulled the comforter set with me as made my way back to the living room – shutting the bedroom door tightly behind me.

Next, I went to the kitchen which seemed to be the source of the smell. I avoided the fridge, nothing in my life would make me open that thing, and scavenged the cupboards. I found two cans of beans, an old bottle of wine and a pack of beef jerky. After finishing my scavenge, I stripped my wet clothing, hanging them against a wooden table that was split in half, slipped on a pair of new panties, my shorts and my sweater.

After piling broken furniture in front of the broken window and locking the front door, I laid the comforter on the middle of the floor and sat down. Using my knife to crack the beans open, I devoured the food by dipping the strips of jerky into the beans deciding it was much better than squirrel. As I ate, I could hear the storm starting to calm down outside, and with a few gulps of the overly sweet wine I was already drifting off.

The next time I woke it was dark out. My legs held a dull throb but nothing serious. I had pushed myself to run for too long yesterday, a stupid and desperate move to get out of the rain and I had been entirely lucky to find that road and this cottage home. Outside however, a noise gathered my attention quickly.

The sound of a low, distorted groaning – right outside the window. It was too dark to see much, but I moved forward through the room, gently hauling my bag with me. A Bitter was here, and I knew right away I wouldn't be able to fight it in the dark. Instead, I closed the bathroom door behind me and locked it. A small window only a few inches wide, and a few inches tall sat just above the toilet laminating the small bathroom in soft, blue moon light.

I surveyed the room – the toilet was missing it's seat and held no water, the sink was in half – the other half lay on the floor, along with shards of a long, broken mirror and a dirty, but otherwise intact pink curtain hiding the bath. I pulled it away slowly, before disgust bubbled up inside me.

A bath of bones. Surely there had to be at least four sets of both large and small – a shattered picture, and a long rusted butcher knife beside the tub told me the story. A family smiling brightly into the camera – a father, mother and what looked like twin daughters. They even had a family dog.

No doubt, as soon as they lost hope, they gathered in the tub and called it quits using the only thing they had on hand – a kitchen knife. I had wondered how long it took them to give up – a few months, or a few years? Looking at the clean, ivory bones I couldn't be sure except they were dead for a while.

But that was common for many families after the end ten years ago. At least it was clear they hadn't been infected or, a starving Bitter would have greeted me and not a pile of bones. I was thankful for small miracles.

Unable to sleep now due to the Bitter outside and the pile of bones merely a few feet away, I sat on the floor – my back against the door and looked down at the shards – carefully picking one up.

My features shocked me – it had been a few months since I had focused on my reflection so clearly – even in the dark. Locks of dirty, brown hair hung just above my shoulders – much different than the buzz cut I had last, I was more tanned now too – with a dirty face. My eyes locked on themselves and that's the biggest thing I didn't recognize: gone was the bright and hopeful eyes I once had. Now, my emerald eyes seemed almost as dead as those Bitters. With guilt and sadness churning in my stomach, I averted my gaze to the window.

Watching as dark clouds moved night by and into dawn.