To the streets.

You run as fast as you are able towards the streets of the city, hoping to elude the threat youre sure is seconds behind you. Quickly, after running past the first three storefronts, you jump through what would have been the front window of a local coffeehouse, and take cover behind the counter. You try your best to quiet your labored breathing, and concentrate on making as little noise as you can.

Faintly, you can hear several voices in the distance. As you listen, you chamber a round quietly into your Glock, and hold the pistol at the ready, waiting as the voices get closer. Catching a glimpse of your reflection in the polished chrome of the counter, you hardly recognize yourself. From the editor of the "Variety" section of the newspaper, to some kind of a ****, and now hunted animal in less than two weeks. The veneer of civilization was very thin indeed.

The voices get closer. Theyre male voices, and angry ones. After sitting, and waiting anxiously, the voices fade away with out getting any closer. Once you feel secure that they wont be returning, you stand and stretch. Scanning the trashed remains of the café, you find nothing that will be of any use. Flipping the safety on the pistol, and tucking it into the waistband of your jeans, you tentatively stick your head out the doorway, looking up and down the street for any sign of movement. Seeing none, you move quickly down the street, staying in the shadows and the opposite direction of the voices you had heard earlier.

Its become apparent that there are more males than females that seem to have survived this plague. And, your sure that many of them will have the same level of sympathy as the security guard you killed when it come the use of your body as a tool for their sexual gratification. You need to find a community of women, or maybe a group where the men arent sex-crazed Neanderthals.

After walking for thirty minutes or so you become aware of the fact that youre being followed. Whoever is following you is very light on their feet, and sometimes youre not sure if you are being followed. Preoccupied, you soon realize that youre walking towards a dead end. "Stop right there, sweetie!" you hear a female voice say. Soon after you hear the telltale clack-clack of a shotgun action. "Drop the back pack, and the pistol!" the voice orders. Having little choice, you obey. After all, a woman isnt going to **** you. As soon as the pistol hits the sidewalk, five armed women appear in front of you climbing out of well-camouflaged positions. "Turn around!" the voice barks. As you do so you see the woman that now holds you at gunpoint. "I'm Wanda, and youre our prisoner" says the tall redhead standing with a shotgun leveled at your stomach. "What should we do with her, girls?" Wanda asks the group now standing behind you.