| Ryan Lockten |
Ryan sat there on her bed, looking at the last bit of her MRE rations she brought for fucking camping! Not survival shit! She rubbed her forehead with her palm, this sucks. A whole damn year! A long ass fucking damn year! She looked at the little mixed matched stuff, one sugar packet, cocoa mix, Non-dairy creamer, pound cake, Western Style Beans and Salt & Pepper package. The rain still battered at her window, making it impossible for her to go hunt for meat. Luckily animals couldn't catch the infections, which eluded Ryan but was a plus. A year ago, the idea of eating a dog was taboo, unorthodox. But now it was survival, an aspect of everyday life. The occasional chicken or even a damn cat was perfect as long as they had actual meat on the bones.
Mixing the sugar, cocoa, and creamer together with a water added here and there created a chocolate like frosting. Slather that on the pound cake and ta-da! Cake. Guarantee this will be the last time she ever has cake again. She snorted and stuffed the thing in her mouth as she stood from the bed. Her little hotel room wasn't that far from a warehouse, she never actually bothered to investigate the property. But something perked her interest and as soon as the damn rain stopped she was going to see if there was anything of use in the old warehouse. Food, clothing, and ammunition where the top three on the list. Followed by alcohol.
She stood at the sliding glass door and caught movement from the corner of her eye. Her head snapped to the side as she watched someone jog across the road and into the warehouse. She choked on her makeshift cake as she watched the person disappear. That wasn't a figment of the imagination? I couldn't be. But she hasn't seen any living human in over a damn year. She mentally did that, forced herself to have a reason to actually go to the warehouse. Ryan shook her head and opened the sliding glass door out to the balcony. Sticking her head out she squinted through the curtain of rain and into the warehouse. She didn't see anyone, but the idea at someone, an actual living person besides her in the building drove her curiosity meter through the roof.
A war waged in her. Go out into the rain and actually find another person or SWW, (Stay, Wait, Watch.) The former sounded wonderful, but the latter was rational. Ryan had previous problems with seeing things that aren't there and after a year with no social contact your brain plays tricks on you. She pulled her head back in the room and closed the door, dragging a hand down her face and rubbing her jaw. Pulling a chair from the small breakfast table she parked it in front of the glass door, sitting on it backwards with her arms folded and her chin propped. She felt like a stalker, a creeper in the window. But the feeling was washed away as soon as it swam up. People, she snorted and hoped to god that she wasn't seeing things and that the hooded figure was real.