Prologue:
Canidice:
I pant, my heartbeat high in my ears and my sweat running into my eyes along with the pouring rain. The possibly toxic, pouring rain. I've never seen anything like it. Water, pouring from the sky. It soaks through my shirt and pants and probably right through my bag too. Right to my food, and -ironically- my water. I didn't think this through. Where am I going to find more food? Clean water? There are no animals, at least, not in the 10 miles that surround the compound. I'm on mile 11 now, and still there's no sign of life other than the trees and occasional bush. I lean against a tree, giving myself a moment's rest. I've been going on like this for hours now. The Compound is no longer in sight, but I can still feel the breath of those in charge breathing down my neck. I can feel the hundred and fifty peers nipping at my heels. I hold my breathe for a second and listen.
Only the sound of rain and the leaves falling can be heard. Nobody has noticed I'm gone, if that's anything to go by. Why would I leave, anyway? It's nice in the compound. Warm. Comfy. Full of life. I snort. Not life, survival. We've been cooped up in there for who knows how long, and I'm the first human to see the outside world in 100256 days. The last guy was incinerated by the sun. Which is why I left at night. In the middle of a storm. That, and the fact that no one checks on a 21 year old at night. Hell, not even in the morning. Only around 12, when sleeping gets to be a bit weird unless you're sick, dead, or sleep deprived. None of which I am. Actually, scratch that, I'm a bit sleep deprived at the moment. I haven't slept in about 20 hours if I'm remembering correctly. If I'm counting the time right. I straighten, trudging on through the mud and rocks and trees that permeate the ground. There's no time to waste. Once someone realizes I'm gone, they'll be hell to pay. If I'm not out of the rovers' range, I'll be scooped up faster than I can say fuck off.
The rovers haven't been used since that last incident, but they're kept in lockup in case of something big. Like this. I mean, I may be giving myself too much credit. I'm not famous or anything, just valued because of the fact that I'm one of the last humans. One of the last fertile female humans. I wasn't gonna have kids anyway, but they just say that's a phase and I'll get over it. I won't. Not after my mom died giving birth to me. I can't leave a baby to that. To them. The compound wasn't bad to me, but it wasn't good either. My upbringing lacked love and compassion. It certainly didn't lack communication. They shoved me at and and all of the boys, trying to stir something up naturally. Ya, good luck with that. I'm not that easy.
The sun's starting to rise, and I feel my mouth dry as I realize I don't have shelter. I mean, it's been so long. The radiation didn't kill me- yet-, and the trees seem to be intact, but I still shake a bit as sunlight washes over me. I close my eyes, almost hoping I'll just burst into flames on the spot so I won't have to walk anymore. Unfortunately, my fears about the sun were incorrect, which means a shit ton of a lot more walking on my part. Why didn't I take a rover?
ns 15.158.61.20da2
