Snippet #1981074

Trent was working logistics. There was plenty of useful stuff in the abandoned hardware store. He'd already worked out a great little system of classification for their private apocalypse. Stuff was useful, but not 100% necessary. He kept all his stuff in the same bag, because if it came down to it, he wouldn't mind having to drop stuff on the run. Then there were the essentials: food, water, weapons, ammo. Everything else was shit, utterly useless to them now. So far he'd accumulated a few rolls of duct tape, some zip ties, a hammer and a box of nails, two bottles of lighter fluid, and 40 feet of rope. He packed it all in an emptied out toolbag, then set it near the patch of wall he'd staked out as his temporary bedroom.

"Takin' a leak," he announced, voice dull. He didn't want to surprise anyone on his way back from the bathroom and wind up getting shot or stabbed. The teenager wasn't nearly as invested in the group as some; for him, this was a matter of smart survival, plain and simple. He didn't like the fact that they had kids with them, but... well, in the very least, they might slow some of the infected down if things got real bad. He was smart enough not to announce that idea. Probably wouldn't sit well with some, but it was the truth. Anyone could become a liability, any time. Some would just do it faster than others.

He headed into the bathroom, returning a few minutes later, wiping damp hands on his pants. He spared a quick look at the others, nodding briefly to Jet, then retired to his spot. He pulled the bill of his cap down over his eyes and then balanced his shotgun across his thighs; that was his preferred sleeping position, these days. Funny thing about Trent: he slept better than most, but woke up right quick.