Life at the End of the World

'C'mon, Alana, you can do this.'

No matter how many times you repeat this to yourself, you still don't feel any better. It's been months since the Plague wiped out the majority of the world's population. The only ones left are the people who survived the initial illness. Their bodies were able to build up a resistance to the Plague. The rest died quickly. You were one of the survivors. In fact you were the only survivor that you know of. Your family was gone and you had survived the past months by living off the food supply in your house. During this time you had never even left your backyard.

Unfortunately, your food has run out. The only solution is to scavenge more supplies from the outside world, a world you are completely unfamiliar with now. You have no idea what dangers await you, and the only protection you have is your father's old Smith and Wesson .357 and a Remington shotgun that you crudely sawed down the stock and barrel on to make it easier to carry.

You take one last look in the mirror at yourself. Your brown hair has now grown slightly past your shoulders. You know you should cut it soon, but it is last on your list of priorities. Water continues to run in your house, so you are able to keep your hair clean at least. You are wearing a t-shirt, a sports bra encasing your firm breasts, and jeans. Your body is in fit, athletic shape after years of tennis and track in high school and college. After practicing aiming your revolver at your reflection a few times you decide that it is now or never. You open your house's door and step outside.

'C'mon, Alana, you can do this.'