Am I the Last Person Alive?

[alias013]

Alex smiled back at Hope, his spirits lifting immediately. If no one else agreed with his plan at least she would be there. His eyes fell to the dirt on the girls face and the blood on her clothing, his mind conjuring images of the situation that would have left her so bloody... And yet uninfected. It must have been terrible.
He turned his head to look to Yuki. "of course you can... ', his voice as reassuring as he could muster, before he turned his attention back to the group "The hard part will be finding the supplies we need in order to make the trip, but I passed by a running van as I entered the city... " His hand slid down one of his denim covered legs and into a small cargo pocket. When his fingers revealed themselves again... A single, slender sliver of metal Protruded from between two fingers. "and I have the key..."

 

[Muno]

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Lyave​

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He glanced at each as they told their names, Celia, Alex, Hope, and…uh, he looked at the other for a while wondering what her name was, but shrugged it be when the little girl, Celia thanked him. "Eh, no problem." He spoke with a small smile before the girl hid behind him. Lyave seen that most of the people that he met was mostly heading south, and it made him wonder why? What was there that everyone thinks is there? He thought about it for a bit until the male, Alex, said that the heat will decompose the undead. Hopefully. He thought as he listened before zoning out.

If seeing the hopes in people eyes when they talk about the south made take a chance, and if it doesn't work well he will leave here and go home. He hoped that is didn't hit overseas yet. He shook the thought quickly not wanting to jinx the situation. Lyave came back to reality thinking of the warm air once they make it the South. "Louisiana..." He repeated to himself he never heard of it which kind of showed on his face when he raised a brow, and slight confused look though he did seen it on the map before when he had to study the map that one time in class. Soon he put his hands in his jacket pocket


Supplies in a van he was going to question it but didn't instead he did it in a different way. "And it's still in one piece?" He asked curiously.

 

[Angelita Snow]

Yuki Storm​

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Yuki nodded a thank you to Alex and she soon sat down with Shadow in her lap. " Hum , Alex are you sure that the Van will be safe enough for us ? " she asked a bit concerned about the young girl she sighed putting her wolf pup down beside her. " Shadow stay ." she said not wanting him to go to the the little girl thinking he might scare her. He seemed to want to play with the little girl but know that he had to stay by Yuki cause he was told. She looked at the male who the little girl was behind and she gave him a small smile " Oh yea I'm Yuki " she said before giving her attention to Alex. ​

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[alias013]

'well it was running when I took the keys out of it" He said with a grin before turning his attention back to Hope. A small shake of his head in response to her question. " honestly we probably won't be able to get fat by road, there's surely to be a big traffic jam somewhere, but will give us a head start..." He was trying to sound optimistic as he took in the worried expressions on everyone's faces. A light shiver running up his spine making his pockets jingle with a variety of noise. He knelt and began repacking the items in his pockets so that they wouldn't make much noise.
"besides... The van should be able to give us some heat for our little trip."

(Also, I understand a van running in the middle of nowhere after three years doesn't make a whole lot of sense... I'm planning on tying this all together later)

 

[Parsee Mizuhashi]

'Hope'​

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Now, there was a surprise. "A van... in working conditions..." Hope began to smile, feeling her namesake abundantly. "Well, alright! We can make it through this!" she said excitedly, hopping up onto both feet and pumping her fists. She felt good. This was a good thing. Even if it wouldn't take them far, it was temporary, mobile shelter. Nothing about that sounded bad to Hope at all.​

 

[Michael J Saulnier]

Owen Thorne​

Lady & Rudy​

A black SS Camaro cruised down a stretch of deserted highway, weaving around the odd abandoned automobile. Sometimes it would have to grab some shoulder to get around a large cluster of vehicles that blocked every lane, but it was no problem for the vintage muscle car with it's large wheels and mighty engine. It's previous owner had loved it like a father loves his only son. The man, who shall remain nameless, due to the inevitable fact that anyone who had known his name was no longer alive to pass the information on, had taken extra care to keep it in pristine condition. The leather interior was cleaned and polished on a regular basis. The paint job was cared for twice a week, and renewed on a yearly basis. The chrome detail and rims were inspected and maintained religiously. No aspect of the machine was neglected or left to chance. Which was good news for the man who now possessed the car.

He didn't care about the leather, the paint, or the chrome. In fact, he had neglected all of these things. The only thing he cared about was speed and performance. The car was exceptional. It got him from A to B efficiently, and as a bonus, in style.

The reason he'd taken this car over a Hummer, truck, or anything more durable and practical, was because of someone he loved. Someone he missed deeply.

His older brother had always wanted an SS Camaro. He had fantasized and talked about buying and tricking one out since they were kids. So when he stumbled upon the jet-black beauty, he couldn't help but chuckle, fighting the tears away as he did so. He had taken the car as an unspoken obligation to his now deceased brother. A way of honoring his memory, and an inside joke between them. Because even after the end of the world as we knew it, he still had something close to a sense of humor.


Inside the Camaro, two adult huskies sat in the back seat. One male, one female. The male was snow-white with rusty brown detail. He was a bit bigger than the female, who also had a clean white coat, but with a deep grey detail that was sharp and stunning.

They sat side-by-side, glancing out the windows at the landscape as it rolling by. They seemed happy, content, despite all that had happened. It was a simple, beautiful moment that prior to the crisis which found them in the back seat of this Camaro on this ghostly highway, would have been tragically overlooked.

The driver observed that tiny, profound and symbolic moment from the rear view mirror, granting a pleasant smile. That was what it all came down to. Most people would look at this picture and see nothing but a man and his dogs sitting in a car. What he saw, what he knew to be the reality and truth of the situation, was loyalty and love in it's purest, most brilliant and rawest form. Even after the world had gone to shit, when brother had turned on brother, and everything humanity had spent thousands of years building as a civilization had crumbled into chaos and terror, the unconditional love, loyalty and companionship of a man and his dog was left untouched by the hell that lingered just outside the doors of that Camaro. That was what made that moment so beautiful and special. It's the stuff you dig up from between the lines that's worth the most in it's weight.

Owen Thorne had learned to view the world around him differently since the crisis. He began to recognize and appreciate all the subtle nuances that the universe presented before our very eyes each and every day. They're in those little moments, as well as the big ones. Sometimes it's not what's right in front of you, but rather the things you cannot see, or hear, that truly speak to us the most.

Owen had merely learned how to listen to them.


(If you could please give me at least 1 more post before forcing a crossing of paths with my character, I would greatly appreciate it. I have at least one more introductory post to make, to fully introduce Owen, and paint the picture I'm looking for with him. He's a genuinely great guy, who will protect the people he cares about (mainly his dogs, now) with his life. However, the apocalypse changed Owen. It hardened him to some harsh realities. It's kill or be killed. He's learned that the only people he can trust, are the two dogs in his back seat. He knows that they will never betray him, never plot against him, or weigh his life against supplies, or their own survival. Owen has done some things that to us, will seem villainous, downright evil. But place yourself in his shoes, and only then will see the motives behind what he has done.)

 

[Sinfully Sweet]

"Kitten" (Kat)​

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See in a world like this, some people could adapt while others could not. Now here's a gal who could adapt and well didn't really mind living a lifestyle like today. Here's a woman who's laid back, who has that cocky attitude when needed and knows her shit. Kat, or really Kitten as they call her, wasn't one for the past but more the present. Surprisingly, she enjoyed going on killing sprees with the walking dead more instead of a mechanics person for a living. But what really got her going is that everything was real, it wasn't just one of those games on her xbox she used to play, and yes this 23 year old woman played xbox in her free time. Shocker I know.​

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Kitten took a long drag of her cigarette, content with life right now. She had all she needed, her butterfly knife, a beer bottle, cigs, and her little 1 year old black with grey blotches of fur kitten. While walking lazily on top of a railing, she took a sip of her alcoholic beverage and a drag of her cig, sighing softly. She didn't bother killing off those dirty walking bastards, as long as they didn't notice and bother her, she would ignore them. Noticing her kitten, Rebel, huddled up in a ball on her shoulder close to her neck purr, she smiling small and ran her fingers along the animals ears. She stretched and finished the last of her bottle, throwing the empty glass across the street which drew the walkers attention. ​

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"What complete dumbasses.. Their practically harmless if you know how to deal with them.." She spoke under her breath in a hush toner to her kitten who simply mewed in response. Grabbing onto a street light pole and swinging off of it, she landed with a thud of her combat boots. Flipping her scarlet red bangs out of her eyes, she placed her hands in her pockets, flicking the dead cigarette into a small puddle of gasoline which started a fire behind her. She had a calm composure, carefully making her way through this zombie infested maize...​

 

[Michael J Saulnier]

Owen Thorne​

Lady & Rudy​

Owen cautiously made his way through a very small city just off of the highway. His supply of gasoline was running out, forcing him to search for more. Most of the vehicles that sat around the streets had long since been siphoned of any fuel left in the tank. Virtually every gas station and small pump was bone dry. Truth was, the majority of resources of any kind had been looted weeks, months, or even years ago. Finding almost anything of use or value had become comparable to a small miracle. Barter was the new scavenging. Old world currency was useless now; material for fires, or wiping one's ass, should the necessity present itself. The economic system had reverted back to the days of old. Now people traded commodities for other commodities. Gasoline for ammunition. Food for water. Batteries for medical supplies. Weapons for weapons. You had to hustle now, and you had to have something of value, something your mark wanted or needed in exchange for the commodity you were after. Water, food, medical supplies, and ammunition were the most valuable items one could possess. Water was the new diamond. Food, the new gold. Drop a bottle of mountain water on the table, and just about anyone will cave in to your demands. Water is the one thing you need, no matter what the scenario unfolds to look like. Given that fact, you could never have enough clean drinking water. You could be sitting on a warehouse filled to capacity with jugs of pure H2O, and you'd still need more... just to be damn sure you had enough.

When it came to water, the smart people weren't fucking around. It was among the leading contributing factors to human casualties by humans since the undead crisis.

Owen was nowhere near an established stronghold, the last of which he'd seen was almost a week behind him now. He'd gotten caught up in a power struggle between two opposing groups of survivors and killed a man before making his exit. There were very few strongholds, and none that were anything close to what you'd expect. Owen likened the experience to what he imagined prison must be like. Filthy, poor living conditions. Shady, sketchy characters you couldn't trust, let alone depend on to have your back if shit hit the fan. People rolled in tiny circles, usually built on a system of history and seniority. Those circles covertly plotted against each other, and violence was a routine thing. People killed each other on a daily basis over personal bullshit, accusations of theft, or any other reason one could scrounge up. It was a chaotic and dangerous environment. Owen had come to realize and accept that fact fairly quickly. There was no hope, safety or comfort in the strongholds. They were lawless wastelands, the old west of the new apocalypse, and a place Owen didn't want to be, let alone want his dogs to be. He had raised them from pups in the back seat of several different automobiles. It was where they felt at home, where they wanted to be. It was all they knew. They were like children to Owen. He didn't view them as dogs, or pets. They were people, his son and daughter. His best friends. They were the only two souls left on this barren, forsaken planet that he could fully and faithfully trust with his life.

No matter what happened out there. Now matter how the cards were dealt, he knew they would die to protect him. He'd never let that happen, but it was comforting to know it. Those beautiful little creatures would never betray him. Never plot against him, or weigh his life against supplies, or their own survival. They loved him and followed him unconditionally. There was nothing he could do to them to break that. So, who else did Owen need to have his back? Lady and Rudy, aside from being unconditionally loyal to him, had impeccable senses for hunting and watching his back. They were a lot easier on food and water than any human being, and they were agile and smart enough to avoid contact with any walking dead that he encountered. They were raised in this apocalyptic war zone, they didn't know any other life so it had become routine to them.


Owen pulled to a stop as he set his gaze on what looked like three people in a grassy clearing off of the street he'd been driving down in search of potential fuel locations. They might have been corpses, so he scoped out the scene for several moments before one of them reached for the sky, waving their arms back and forth.

"Hey! Over here!" a woman's voice yelled out to him.

Owen immediately opened the driver's side door, getting out of the Camaro and closed the door behind him. As soon as he did so, both Lady and Rudy began to whimper, peering out the windshield from over the front seats. They had severe separation anxiety as a direct result of growing up in an undead-populated apocalyptic wasteland. Regardless of how much they hated it, though, they usually waited in the car. Owen hated risking them being hurt more than they hated waiting in the car. Even if he fell, they might be safe in the car, where they could at least die peacefully, together, not ripped to pieces by the living dead.


Owen rushed to the aid of the three survivors, pistol drawn. There weren't many walkers around, but you could never be too cautious, if you wanted to stay alive. Stupid people let their guard down, got careless and started slipping. All it takes is one random and sudden twist of fate. A jerk of chance, or a yank of destiny. He'd seen it hundreds of times. Trained soldiers, seasoned survivors, tough, smart SOB's who just had a shitty few seconds of luck. Nothing in particular they had done wrong, just a nasty, unforgiving series of unfortunate events that lead to their death. The world had be come a chaotic, perilous war zone between man and monster, man and man, and man and nature.

If you wanted to survive, you had to practice a little vigilance.


As he got closer, he could make out one female and two males. The female was slender, wearing baggy, warm clothing and a backpack around her shoulders. The first man was tall and lean, wearing a thick, long, red winter jacket and camo fatigues with black combat boots. He had short dark hair and a goatee. The other man was short and chubby with a bald head. He wore blue jeans and a plaid, fleece winter jacket. He looked like a common working man, while the other looked ex-military. The girl he couldn't place at all.

As he approached them, feeling uncertain of his decision to get out of the car at all, he glanced back at the Camaro. To his confusion and shortly after, dismay, he saw a tall man holding a rifle walking toward the vehicle.

"What the?" Owen mumbled with a perplexed expression on his face that soon grew to anger.

"Hold it right there, Haus," one of the men said, undoubtedly having the drop firmly on him. Owen slowly turned around to find 3 pistols returning his gaze.

"Take his weapons, babe," the groups obvious leader ordered the female, who quickly complied. She held her gun close to Owen's chest, taking her eyes off of it to rummage around Owen's person, removing several pistols, and a large hunting knife.

As she bent down to pull the knife from his Timberland boot, he swiftly grabbed her wrist, yanking the gun away from his body, twisting her around so that she faced away from him, gun still in her hand, but away from his body. In the same calculating motion, he drew a .357 semi-automatic from behind his back, firing upon the chubby man, hitting him in the center of mass.

The man dropped lifelessly, and the other shouted his name in horror. "Eric!"

"Don't fuckin' move, bud!" Owen ordered him, placing the .357 to the woman's temple.

"We're all gonna take it real slow and easy. You can start by droppin' your guns. All of 'em."

The man started to become emotional, angry, and he raised his weapon, as if intending to shoot.

"Easy, Haus!" Owen yelled sharply. "You don't wanna get this bitches brains blown out, now do you?" Owen asked him with an intensity that made the man become even more emotional. Owen had found the man's weakness already; it was struggling in his arms as they spoke.

"Just let the girl go, man," he pleaded with Owen, nearly in tears.

Owen tightened his grip around her neck, jerking her gently. "Not until we all have ourselves a little talk. Come to terms where we can all agree on what's about to go down here. Now besides your boy Eric here, no one's gotta get hurt." Owen explained calmly, but still having the intensity and grit that sold this little show.

"You shot him dead," the man mumbled, staring at the body of his late friend.

"You're payin' attention, Haus. I like it." Owen said with a splash of wit for good measure. He wanted Haus to firmly believe that he wasn't fucking around, because he wasn't.

"Just fucking shoot him!" the woman yelled, squirming violently in Owen's arms.

"Now that... would be a bad fuckin' move for everyone. Right Haus?" Owen asked the man, who was quickly approaching a state of panic.

"Please man..." he pleaded and begged Owen, tears forming in the wells of his eyes.

"There's two ways this can go down. One; Haus shoots me, and I shoot you. Judging by the look on Romeo's face, that about makes us all losers. Two; you can let me be on my way, and we can all walk away from this with what we want most."

Haus looked at the woman he loved, stuck in the spider's web that Owen's arms represented. He began to sob, hiding his face from Owen, and the woman.

"Now I don't give a fuck about that car, but my dogs are in the back seat. Now you can go ahead and correct me if I'm wrong, but this girl is the only thing you give a fuck about right now?"

He didn't answer Owen's question. "Well those dogs are the only thing I give a fuck about," Owen explained truthfully.

"Is that your man up there with the Enfield?" Owen asked sternly. By that time the man had positioned himself on Owen, waiting out the situation, no doubt shitting himself, otherwise he would have taken the shot by now, and Owen would be laying dead in the grass.

"That's my brother, Billy," Haus answered him, emotionally flustered and compromised.

"You go ahead and tell him come down here, nice and easy. And leave that Enfield," Owen ordered him.

"Come on down here, Billy. Leave that rifle."

Billy didn't reply at all. He didn't even move. Owen took his hesitation as the element that closed this situation. Up until that moment, Billy's being perched up the way with an Enfield was the only variable he couldn't control in this situation. But now he knew that he had total fucking control of it, and that was bad news for these novice looters.

"Come on now Billy!" Haus yelled impatiently, inspiring Billy to haul his husky ass over toward the others after dropping the rifle.


"Glad you could join us, Billy," Owen said as Billy got closer to his brother. "There's a reason I let you keep that gun on your hip, Haus. I'm tryin' to establish some trust here. A mutual understanding of intent. Now I know it must be hard right now, given that I've got a gun pressed against your girlfriend's noggin, but try to see things from where I'm standin'. You had every intention of robbin' me blind. Maybe even killin' me, and my dogs. See, I don't wanna rob you, and I sure as hell don't want to kill you."

"Eric would probably disagree," the woman piped up again, clearly enraged by her being captured, Eric's untimely demise, and this entire goddamn situation.

"Well it's a good thing no one asked for his fuckin' opinion, sweet heart," Owen replied with a growling whisper in her ear, placing more pressure on her skull with the barrel of his .357. "Now I'm trying to resolve this little situation we got ourselves in here without anymore blood on my hands, or yours! So this is how it's gonna work; you're both gonna turn around and get on your knees," Owen ordered the brothers.

"No fuckin' way," Haus protested.

"Was Eric a nice guy?" Owen asked plainly.

"Yeah..." Billy replied quickly, lost within some memory of the man Eric used to be.

"Yeah, he seemed like a nice guy. I blew his fuckin' head off without thinking twice, and I don't even like this bitch. So keep ignoring the gravity of this situation, and we'll be in for one messy conclusion," Owen explained bluntly.

"Go fuck yourself, asshole," the woman in Owen's clutches once again horned in.

"Not helpin' your case, princess," Owen whispered in her ear once again, applying a vicious, but momentary surge of pressure across her throat that made her wince with pain.

"Knees, gentlemen. Now!" Owen barked maliciously.

The two men turned around slowly, kneeling down in the cold, firm grass.

"This is where I walk away real calm," Owen explained confidently. "When I feel like I'm in the clear, I'm gonna let her go. But if she so much as opens that mouth of hers, I'll be forced to shoot her in the face, Haus. You don't want that now, do you?"

"No," Haus answered him, almost under his breath, in a weak, broken tone of voice. He was drained, and just wanted this to be over with so he could hug and kiss his girl and go the fuck home.

"Then you best remain fuckin' calm," Owen explained intensely. "On the count of three, I'm gonna start movin' real slow."

Owen's gaze grew darker somehow. His brow lowered, becoming more stern, as his eyes narrowed, right hand grasping the .357 tighter.

"One... Two..." On the count of three, two shoots from a .357 rang off through the crisp, cool air and found their mark in Haus and Billy. The both slumped face-down as Owen violently tossed the woman to the ground, quickly taking aim and pulling the trigger...



Owen drove down a stretch of highway late at night. He seemed as though in a trance as he puffed on a cigarette, eyes fixed intently on the road ahead of him. Lady and Rudy slept in the back seat, snuggled together for extra warmth and comfort.

Next to him, riding shotgun, was a Lee Enfield bolt action rifle, and two cans of gas sat on the floor in front of it.

 

[Sinfully Sweet]

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"Kitten"​

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Kitten stood crouched behind a dumpster near some old gas station. "How the fuck did I get stuck in this situation.." She cussed under her breath. Ahead of her were a group of people hollering over stupid shit. She shook her head and stood quiet just listening. She didn't dare move from her spot, one so she wouldn't get shot, 2 so she wouldn't get shot! She never really was one for crowds, she had a bad experience with em in her past and learned the hard way. Leaning against the filthy dumpster, she held her kitten and stroked its fur going down memory lane..​

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"Fuck it's really cold..." 20 year old Kat exclaimed, huddled up on a tree branch freezing her ass off. She watched the small cloud of fog from her breathing, trying to concentrate on something else other than the cold winter. It was raining ice believe it or not and the only shelter she had from it was this tree and its branches. Avoiding the walking dead in the park she was in, she sighed softly wishing everything was how it was before the outbreak. It all just happened too fast for her. First thing she knows is shes walking home from her friends house from working on her friends car than running for her life from crazy people trying to eat her flesh. Playing as many video games as she has, she knew right away this was the start of an undead apocalypse but it happened out of no where. Little did she know what lie ahead was even more chaotic than what was happening now...​

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Keeping at a fast pace off of the main roads and taking small streets, Kat was headed toward her house. well more like her parents but same shit thats where she grew up. She avoided the chaos that was going on with each step she took. About now people would be panicking and the world would be going to hell, she wanted to make sure her family was okay though and hoped it hadn't hit them badly yet. "Just another mile to go.." She said under her breath, stealthing her way around the undead which had already consumed this block or was actually feeding on live people as she snuck past. Seeing the lights on ahead at her own house, she ran up the steps and opened the door, which seem to be already unlocked. "Oh no..." She thought and swung the door open, analyzing her living room which was blood splattered and trashed. Tears started to swell her eyes as she quietly made her inside the house searching for her parents. She heard movement in their bedroom and quietly spoke but not quiet enough, "Ma.. Pa?" She poked her head inside the room only to find two disoriented faces staring at her with a hungered expression such as a lion with its prey. "Shit..." She cussed, tears streaming down her rosie freckled cheeks. She ran to the door only to find herself cut off by other walkers. She screamed inside her head and ran upstairs to her room, shutting the door behind her. She pulled out a small case from inside the ceiling vent revealing a small pistol before grabbing a bag and opening her window. Just as the dead were about to charge into her room, she hopped out of her window onto her neighbors roof, tumbling. Regaining her balance, she flipped out her cell and dialed her boyfriend's number...​

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Huddled in a corner inside an abandoned store, she smiled and warmed her hands above a fire. Its been 6 months since the outbreak and she was getting by with a crowd of 5 including herself. It was her boyfriend, his two guy friends, her girlfriend and herself. They were camping out the night inside a store with a nice cozy fire going. Kat was huddled up next to her man and occasionally kissed him a few times. The group was munching on some chips and drinking some beer to ease their pain of the loss of all their families. While Mark, her boyfriends best friend, was keeping watch outside now, the 2 girls curled up and rested up for the next day. Awaking startled to gun shots, kat sat straight up panicked looking around. Steph was no longer with her nor was Damon or her boyfriend Scott. Getting up she called for Scott who came rushing in, face pale and a runny nose. "We gotta go now babe! Hordes found us, Mark was drunk and shit happened. Damon and Steph left taking all our shit and Mark well hes gone!" She didn't know what to say or do. Being shoved out of the back door which lead to the alley, Scott was keeping the horde back as best he could. She felt hurt and betrayed by their members actions. "I hope they get eaten alive.." She mumbled, running for her life. Finding a ladder to go up, she motioned to it and started her way up. Just reaching the top of an apartment complex, her boyfriend was on her tail when his leg got caught on something or more like someone. Cussing, Scott tried fighting off the hands with what little bullets he had left. It was too late though he was already being dragged down. Shaking her head frantically, Kat latched onto her boyfriend and did her best to pull him up. "COME ON BABY NO YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME NOW!" She wailed trying to pull him up. He was already bitten a few times though and the horde was just too strong. Crying, Kat watched her boyfriend go, saving one last bullet for himself in the end. Not being able to watch she backed up as far away from the ledge as possible, balling her eyes out...​

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Hearing gunshots brought Kat back to reality. She didn't realise a tear streaming down her cheek before wiping away at it. She turned to see a man had shot off 3 men and finished the woman off. Kat watched the stranger walk off and grab supplies needed before getting back into his Camaro and driving off. She stood up and walked over toward the dead bodies, looting whatever they had before heading onto the road. She noticed tire markings on the tar road and decided to follow em since she had nun' better to do. It may be a while if she even made contact with this person, but it might be good to see where he's headed if anywhere. She wasn't sure she wanted to actually come in contact with him, he seemed kinda scary but then again it was an ambush and they deserved what they got. For now she would watch..​

 

[Michael J Saulnier]

Owen Thorne​

Lady & Rudy​

A heavy snow had fallen within the last hour. Owen had been cruising down the highway at slow pace, the Camaro leaving deep tracks as it rolled down the stretch of pavement.

Owen was tired, and the snow was getting heavy. He decided he would pull over somewhere close and sleep the night off with Lady and Rudy. It would soon be time to hide this Camaro somewhere. Replace it with a bigger, more versatile 4 wheel drive vehicle like a jeep or hummer. Something that could plow snow even. Getting that old SS stuck somewhere in the cold, snowy outback of post-apocalyptic America was not an option. Owen hated traveling by foot, and so did Lady and Rudy. The twins liked being in an automobile. The more roomy, the better.

Owen picked a spot about 10 feet in front of an abandoned car. He parked in front of it so if another car were to come in out of control, the abandoned vehicle would absorb most of the impact, and other cars driving by are less likely to notice you when you blend into the wreckage some. The key was having a car that was low-key, some dirt and wear never hurts in the camouflaged department. And that was another reason he wanted to stash the SS. It was a heat-bag automobile. Guaranteed to attract attention, and ruffle greed's feathers. I mean, this entire situation inherently proved that fact to be bankable. People were going to notice this car, and they were going to want it. There were even people out there who would kill him for it. Collectors, antique dealers. That's where the real profit scavenging is now; collecting pre-crisis items and trading them to wealthy collectors and colony traders who missed the good 'ol days, and surrounded themselves with fragments of the old world to cope and have but a little sense of comfort and tragic nostalgia. The colonies were large strongholds founded by wealthy survivors who believed there's still something left of humanity and civilization. They walled off towns and guarded them, collecting pre-crisis shit to decorate their homes and shops, trying to live like nothing had happened.

Owen had heard some of them were doing well, but he didn't give two squirts of Rudy's piss, because it didn't matter. Common survivor peasants like him would never see the inside of one. Military/Government "Settlements" were the same shit, just a different, more exclusive and elitist pile.


He shut the car off, grabbing a quilt from the floor behind his seat. He laid it over Lady and Rudy; it was going to get cold tonight.

He grabbed yet another blanket and a pillow, putting his seat back all the way and made a mobile survivalist bed for himself.

 

[Michael J Saulnier]

Owen Thorne​

John Thorne​

Partially intoxicated laughter surrounded a kitchen table in a modest suburban home. Two men and two women sat around the circular wooden surface drinking beer and playing cars. Asshole was the game, and Owen Thorne was winning. That made him President, for now. That could change by the end of the round, though. Vice President was Hanna Roughly. Vice Asshole was Laura MacDonald, a Young woman with blonde hair and a pale, angelic face. She was Hanna's friend. The Asshole was non other than John Thorne, Owen's big brother, and Hanna's husband. The four of them were blissfully hammered after consuming %6 beer all evening. It was the real stuff. Canadian beer, not the watered-down American shit they passed off as beer. Canadians didn't drink to socialize or for something to do during the big game. No, Canadians drink to get drunk.

"We should do this more often, Owen," Hanna said with a wide, glowing smile, staring at Owen intently.

Owen took a gulp of beer. "Yeah, I just hate America so fucking much, you know?" They all laughed. "Your beer sucks, for one. Okay. Two... Just, whatever. Your beer fuckin' sucks." Owen was legitimately shit faced at this juncture of the evening. But to be fair, so was everyone else around the table.

"Don't worry sweety, it's not you. My baby brother here just has a fear of flying," John explained.

"Fuck that!" Owen protested defensively. "I don't 'fear' flying."

"Oh, you don't?"

"No."

"No?"

"No! I don't fuckin'... What do you want from me? I don't fuckin' fear flying. Straight up."

"You mean to tell me that you didn't throw the most epic fit ever in the Halifax Airport, Christmas of '87 because you found out we were flying home instead of taking the train?"

"I wanted to ride the fuckin' train, John. It had nothing to do with the plane."

"The stewardess practically had to babysit you the ENTIRE fucking flight buddy, because you were ballin' your eyes out the ENTIRE flight."

Everyone laughed with a warm love for each other and Owen.

"He's afraid of snakes," Owen added quickly, smiling as he took a swig of warm, flat beer.

"Asshole," John mumbled, smiled wide with embarrassment.

"Awww! It's okay baby," Hanna comforted John, kisses him on the cheek, holding his hand.

Laura and Owen shared an awkward moment of silence.

"Where's your fiancé, Owen?" she asked him hesitantly.

"Couldn't make it. She's got a lot on her plate with work and school," he explained sadly. He missed her. Wished she was there with him. Alcohol tends to do that to you. Makes you all mushy and sentimental. It betrays all of your defenses and efforts to maintain a firm front and composure.

Owen tossed his cards on the table, chugging the last of his beer. "Alright, folks. I'm hereby retiring for the night."

"What the fuck, shit stain? The game's not even over!" John shouted.

"S.O.L. Johnny boy," Owen said as he left the table, making his way to the guest bedroom.




Owen walked down the hallway of his brother's home. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of jeans from the night before. As he approached the living room area, he stopped in his tracks as he laid eyes on two small puppies running around the hardwood floor. They were huskies, no more than a month old. They were absolutely and undeniably the cutest, most adorable things Owen had ever seen.

"You think she'll like 'em?" John asked cheerfully, kneeling on the living room rug between two sofas.

Owen was bewildered. "Um. Yeah, sure bro." He walked over to the fridge, grabbing a picture of orange juice, and poured himself a tall glass.

"I certainly fucking hope so. These things aren't cheap. You know what I'm sayin'?"

Owen shook his head. "I got a flight to catch here pretty soon, bro. I'ma have to leave within the hour."

"Yeah man. Just be careful, traffic was kinda crazy comin' home today. The bridge was backed up so bad I had to take the valley home, so just let the driver know."

Owen barely acknowledged the information. "Yeah, thanks."

John got to his feet after playing with the dogs. He walked over to Owen, hugging him tightly. "I love you bro. You gotta come see me more often."

"Love you too, Johnny. And we will, Lizzy and me. She was real bummed about not makin' it down here this time. You know she loves Hanna."

"Hanna loves her too," John reassured him. "Laura liked you too, you know?" John said, returning to the puppies. "You're all she talked about after you bailed out. Hanna thinks she likes you."

Owen chuckled awkwardly. "What?"

John shrugged, smiling.

"And I didn't fuckin' bail. I had to call it in. I have a flight to catch. It's a long walk back to Canada."

"You bailed out like a black man at a Klan rally. Classic Owen move. Still a fuckin' lightweight."

Owen laughed, shaking his head. "I gotta get dressed. Wheels up in two hours."





Owen woke up to the frigid morning air inside the Camaro. As he peered around warily, Lady and Rudy returned his gaze, immediately advancing on his position, bombarding him with heavy fire from soft, slimy tongues and cold, wet noses.

He fought them off and adjusted his seat, removing the blanket and pillow from around him. He grabbed a cigarette and a bottle of water, loosening up and preparing for another day in post-apocalyptic America.