Scavenge Hunt

Daylight.

Once again, with more feeling this time. She exited the vault and rubbed her eyes as the sun rose proudly displaying its rays through the building glass walls. It looked to be the start of a beautiful day, somewhat. The faulty cracked buildings and the traffic wreckage at the bottom had been normalized to her daily life. For years, the streets were littered with trash, clothes, stains of blood and oil. And leaking from the flipped over hot dog stand in the corner of the road dripped her greatest nemesis, mustard.

She made a face at the thought of that yellow muck, imagining the sour, revolting icky substance invading her taste buds. Just a whiff of that stuff was enough to make her stomach churn, seeing it on hot dogs and hamburgers is a crime. Who invented the stuff? Was there someone who thought that ketchup wasn't good enough and so it needed a condiment companion to magically fuse with burgers and hot dogs so as to satisfy the greedy, sleezy tourists traversing the streets once upon a time? She never tasted it before though, and she could go her entire life without doing that. The sight of that icky substance alone was revolting to her without having to put it in her mouth.

She slipped out from the second floor crater in the wall before looking around for a minute just to be safe. While she deeply appreciated her mystery friend returning her phone and providing her food last night, she was still left without a backpack and with it, no meat to draw those creatures out. No big deal, she nearly died the other day but what other choice did she have? Kill or be killed, the law of the jungle prevails even in society as it is, or as it once was. Well, nothing beats the original trick to guessing if safety is there, she thought as she scooped up a rock from the ground before throwing it outside. A soft crack on impact and then nothing. She knew it was a stupid test, completely unreliable and yet it felt better than doing nothing at all.

Stepping outside the building and onto the truck, she steadily moved inch by inch with trembling feet while looking over her shoulder. No creature, no bodies, huh. How did she just begin to notice that for several years the city has been clean of any dead bodies around? She wasn't sure whether to be fascinated or terrified at the realization. Now she was standing on the middle of the road, looking around wondering her next move. Food was important but she always made room for item hunts as well. Flashlights, batteries, and a phone charger were her first conquests. For a while she had given up looking as she hadn't a clue what could be useful out there, but now with the realization that she wasn't alone she had gained a new perspective and with it a new idea.

Hope is out there, a kind thought which now that she realized began to fill her with anxiety as she looked around. Hope, Hope... is Hope spying on her? Is Hope a nickname or something? Why didn't Hope just meet her if they knew where she would hide for the night? Most importantly, how would she be able to repay Hope? Well, hopefully she will find her answer in her new destination, pun not intended. As she walked by the crumbled newstand, her fingers caught a tourist brochure guide before unfolding it to reveal a map of the city. Let's see, the downtown section is about fifty minutes walking east from her current location, that would offer plenty of shopping items like purses or clothes to get. Trouble is, with the stores near her completely empty of goods, she would bet downtown would be no different. Okay, she could inspect the local homes several blocks south... no, those could be empty as well. Most stores around here have been either robbed dry or crumbled from the damages of whatever happened there.

An idea lit up in her head, Hope gave her food so why not repay her with medical supplies? The hospitals are one too many miles away for her comfort but she recalled seeing a military camp on one of her food hunts several blocks away. Maybe those big green trucks could be carrying something good, like bandages or antibacterial ointment. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her lipstick, marking a big red circle in the map where the hospital is. It's settled then, that's where she will go and hopefully find some food along the way. The sandwich was delicious and the apple was juicy but her tummy had gotten greedy and glutinous for more, tormenting her with that insistent growl. She gazed over the hot dog stand on the sidewalk before closing her eyes and gagging, not a chance. Probably moldy at this point.

She leaned back and took a deep breath, carefully keeping track on the sunlight displayed along the road. No phone this time, she needed absolute concentration after yesterday's near **** situation. In all honesty it was a mistake that should have been fatal, hope had nothing to do with that moment. It was all luck, luck and a lick of light to keep her safe. She was careful where she stepped, when this first began she remember the streets were littered with a few corpses here and there, the bodies put to rest due to accidents or by another's hand. It was the little details which scared her most, such as the fact that as the days turned into weeks she noticed less and less of those corpses decorating the places she would travel along. It's not that she would become accustomed to it, she hoped that day would never come but admittedly she had formed a stronger stomach for these things, it was that the bodies would disappear. Vanish, but not without a trace as in their absence they would leave a thinning trail of blood and entrails leading into shelter, be it a store, apartment, or alley. She shuddered at the thought of what those things did with them.

It didn't matter what type of animal you are, a canine, feline; any mammal, that weird squirmy thing took refuge inside any fleshy body unfortunate enough to consume it. All she knew was that her father would talk to his grown up friends about the news, something something parasite, she didn't bother eavesdropping at the time but it seemed important to them. He was Mr. Business, always adjusting his fancy striped tie with a shiny belt to his waist. She missed teasing him about that, it was a nickname she gave him because even when he didn't work he would dress that way. He liked it, but Mom would roll her eyes and say he likes the attention he would get from it. She didn't understand what that meant, but it would make her dad laugh everytime. She missed that, she missed the comfort of sleeping in a bed, or going to see her friends at school, gossiping about which girl is crushing on that boy, teasing them, teasing each other, that kind of stuff. She sighed, those memories often became painful reminders to her. It had been so very long since she had spoken with someone, she didn't bother keeping track. At some point, marking a calendar drove her to a breakdown and when she calmed down she realized she had thrown chairs, broken tables, and left soft holes in the ground with a hammer she had then. Shattered glass and torn furniture, that kind of thing. It was at a house she had tried to take shelter in, until she heard something moaning in the attic at night.

Never again.

Stopping to rest beside a fire hydrant, she unfolded the brochure map to check if she was on the right track. Queens Avenue, just over the corner. Good, because her feet were beginning to ache. It didn't help that her shoes were starting to wear down too, the soles have begun to fall apart. Stepping on a puddle meant getting her socks wet, which led to getting a cold, and the last time she was sick she barely managed to find pain relief after three full days of searching many many blocks away. It may be a big city, but in a pandemic all resources are drained to the last drop. She turned the corner and lit up, there they were, several parked green big boy trucks and a large white camp taking up an empty parking lot. In fact, there were lots of those trucks around, she counted seven of them. She took her time in approaching, turning to view her surroundings for safety measures before feeling her hand along the headlights. These vehicles were not quite like the movies taught her about army trucks, and she didn't see any loaded weapons cache nearby. No big box with a red cross either, oh well. She knew better than to expect this to be easy.

She felt a cold bead of sweat run along her cheek as she checked the doors until one of them opened. That was the easy part, she searched through her bag before pulling out a pair of rough cut resistant gloves and a kitchen knife. Just to be sure, she dragged the blade along the palm of her hand with her glove worn on, no cuts. Good, this should help. Next, she pulled out a medical mask and fastened it to cover her mouth and nose. Last, safety goggles. She didn't have any safety wear for her ears, she needed those so... no, she didn't want to think of the worst. Pulling the door open, she climbed in one inch at a time with wobbly legs and a shaky hand, probably the worst way to act tough for the imaginary audience in her head. No stopping now, just do it. Leaning over, knife ready, she peaked behind the drivers seat to find the backseats messy with dirty clothing and camo-colored bags. No sign of any movement, so she pulled out the two bags she could find before runmaging through them outside. Nothing but dirty, smelly laundry and toothpaste, which she had enough back in her shelter. Kicking the bag aside, she turned her focus onto the next set of trucks, trying each handle to see what she would find. Nope, nope, locked, locked, locked, ah-ha...

Just like last time, she climbed aboard and peaked behind the seats with her knife raised and ready. The air was stuffy, she found it hard to breathe as she moved closer before her heart sank. This truck has curtains hiding the back. She pulled back and closed the door, removing the mask and goggles and wiping the coat of sweat off her face. She rubbed her arms, hugging herself and panting at the thought of what could happen. She could gag, make a fuss and throw a tantrum but in her mind she knew it would change nothing. In this world, you can't give up and expect someone to hold your hand for you. She hadn't felt a hand in years.

She pulled the door open, hopping inside and raising the knife over her head just in case, her free hand trembling in the air as it moved closer and closer to the curtains. She held her breathe, keeping still and waiting to her movement. Not a sound, not even a ringing in her ears, for a moment she felt deaf as her hand gripped the curtain and she swallowed her fears down, flexing her arm and pulling the curtain away. She screamed and sank the knife into its thigh, jumping back and hitting her head on the door before falling to the ground. She flinched and groaned, rubbing her throbbing head before crawling backwards fast. She expected it to climb out, to start chasing her or at least make some damn noise but nothing happened.

Nothing happened.

At this point she was getting frustrated, pulling her goggles off and brushing more sweat from her. Her clothes were getting sticky, her hair was a mess and her heart was growing tired of racing for so long. The adrenaline was still in full ****, but she was getting annoyed by this process. She saw it there, she attacked it, why isn't it coming after her? One more time, she held her breath and grabbed the hand bar next to the door to climb inside. Slowly she peaked over the drivers seat, catching sight of the body leaning back with the knife stuck to its leg. Her eyes grew narrow as she realized it wasn't alive, it wasn't even infected. It was a man, balding with thin hair and an empty look to his eyes with a handgun on his lap. He wore a heavy looking army uniform with lots of bags in the front, heavy boots that covered his shins and a tan backpack on. His head leaned forward with red stains along the back of the wall and a bullet lodged into the metal. She held her head down, envying this man and bowing in silence out of respect.

He didn't look scared, he looked so peaceful to her. Like he was tired and wanted to get some rest. Well, he got what he was looking for. Her fingers wrapped around the knife, yanking it free from his leg. She was sorry for that now, she would be apologetic if he could hear her. The next thing she did, she had mixed feelings for. Her mother taught her to be honest and forthcoming, stealing was bad and a big no-no. Well, here she is checking this man's many pockets wondering what each mystery bag holds for her. A pack of 9mm rounds in one pocket, a small pair of binoculars in another. Bullets aren't very useful without a gun, and she had never used a gun before. Still, she would need it eventually... but the noise. No, it's better than the alternative. Reaching out, she held the gun-metal gray handgun pistol. It looked massive in her tiny adolescent hands, it was cold and smooth to the touch, shiny and with a few blood stains on the barrel. Her uncle did have a thing for collecting guns, now she regretted now taking up his offer to go to the shooting range with her other cousins and nephews. She may have to ask him for that favor, if he is alive that is.

She felt awkward staching the handgun in her satchel, but where else could she put it? She didn't have a holster to stuff it in... but he did, right? She beamed at the idea, jumping back in the vehicle and checking the man for a holster. She found it weird that it was not suited on his belt but rather on his thigh. Furthermore, his chest contained this funny looking holster for his knife. It's a big knife too, much better looking than that kitchen knife she used based on the sharp edge and jagged teeth design on the back of the blade. She felt bad but she took them both, struggling to undo the strap around his back under all of that gear when something rattled from behind him. She froze, shaking him again to hear that noise. Digging around him, she begun to undo another bag and pulled out a small bottle of pain reliever pills of high dosage as well as a pill organizer with the word Fluoxetine written over it. No clue what that was, she stuffed it in her bag anyways before looking back and nodding at the man in appreciation. He may not have realized it but he just helped a 14-year-old in a big way. She hoisted her bag over the steering well, struggling to scoot along the drivers seat when suddenly her shoe slipped and she nearly fell over. The truck honked for several seconds. She pulled her hand away from the steering wheel, cursed herself and leapt out in a panic.

A flock of crows screeched loudly and flew out from several rooftops, flying away just as she wished she could do at that moment. Her head turned as something moved inside the large tent, she could make out a shadow of a pair of humanoid bodies standing up and getting closer. The movement and deformed shape of their heads were anything but human. She hugged her bag and ran down the block, stopping when a grayish hand slammed against the store window in front of her. She gasped, walking back and turning another direction. Most of the block was shaded thanks to the towering buildings around, she was beginning to panic as she could hear wet gargling noises from every corner. If any dog comes over to see what is happening, she would be as good as dead. She held her breath as soon as one of those things bursted through the store glass, collapsing over itself as others climbed over it. These weren't badly deformed, they looked more human than the others but the sick dead skin and ghostly white eyes along with those squirmy wiggling things protruding from their... she gagged and ran into the alley nearby. Rigor mortis had begun to affect their limb movement, she could hear something grinding and breaking as their arms and legs were **** to move forward, crowding around the alley entrance. She felt like she was running on air, kicking through puddles of muddy water and pushing through trash cans before pushing through the fenced door only to meet resistance. Locked!

Turning back, she could see they were twenty meters away. Pulling her hands around, she swung her bag over the fence only to find it snag along the barbed wire on top. She dug her fingers into the fence, climbing over as fast as she could and swinging her legs over the pointy wires. She winced and yelped, feeling a few scrapes and cuts before tugging on the strap of her satchel to yank it loose. One of the parasite hosts crashed onto the fence, it's fingers clawing at her shoe. She jumped back with her hands held tight on the strap as her back splashed onto the puddle on the other side, hitting her head and leaving her dazed. The strap of the bag ripped from the momentum and there was blood left on the wire. Didn't matter, she scooted back as more hosts crowded around the fence and pushed forward when the hinges gave away and then fell back, granting them access to their new meal.

Hugging the bag to her chest, she stepped back further and further until she hit against a wall. They were now several feet away. Turning back, she saw that it wasn't a wall but a locked door with a small dog door. She fell on all fours and crawled through without thinking, dragging her stuff with her and leaving the hosts behind. She couldn't stop, one of them fell down and began pushing through as well. The room was dark, it was a filthy kitchen and the other exit was barricaded with wooden boards which left her feeling dreadful of whats next. But the window, the window had been shattered leaving the wooden frame covered in glass. She hesitated but with **** she climbed through and fell forward, finding herself inside a white room with a large bed and weird monitors beside it. To her relief, the door was open and she closed it behind her, locking it and falling to the ground. She was safe, but now she was alone and lost and unable to see past her arms within the murky darkness inside.