Last Man On Earth
Ash and rust. That was the scent of the day. So strong the accompanying flavor coated her tongue. This portion of the city would have to be marked off the map. The few buildings that hadn't been charred to ruin crawled with remnants of now moved on hordes. The stench of rotting flesh making an appearance as she passed too close to a small apartment building. Ghouls knocking on the inside part of a dozen windows. The wolf chanced a look up. She could afford to. Enhanced speed and strength made her a formidable opponent to even large groups. There was also the very fortunate fact her lineage had granted her immunity.
Scanning the streets to be certain they were clear, she darted into the building. Breaking open doors carefully as she foraged for supplies. It still felt a little wrong to bust into what had once been someone's home, but she couldn't afford to be picky. Not with matters of survival.
A heaviness grew in her heart at the seventh apartment. It was the fourth one that had zombies in it. It was also the second one with boarded up windows and some sort of barrier against the door she had to take care of. There wasn't much dust in the place and slim bits of rations still occupied the cupboards. These had been survivors. Creating a defense and having a small amount of supplies. Succumbing despite doing everything in their power to survive.
Her heart sunk far worse at the third apartment with a barrier. Everything was clocked in a layer of dust. Including the shriveled corpses hidden in what was probably the master bedroom. There were three of them on the bed. A mother and father with a small child tucked between them. Holding each other even in death. The bodies couldn't be more than a month old. A dull gleam came from the object clenched in the male's hand. A revolver which couldn't be legal. She ran from the room quickly. Absentmindedly beginning her search, but only out of habit. Not expecting to find much of value. Much to her surprise the pantry was well stocked. Most of it non perishables. There was even a few unopened jugs of water on the shelf. She would have to bring someone later to haul everything back. That feeling was getting worse as she slowly plodded back to the room. Searching for a moment before finding a half full box of bullets in a nightstand drawer.
These people were prepared. They had a chance. Why would they throw it away while they still had resources and unbroken barricades? There was a need to know what was running through their minds. And then she saw it. Above the dull metal and half hidden by a long sleeve. A bite mark. With brows furrowed she searched the other bodies. The mother had a similar bite on her leg. But there was none on the kid. The realization hit her after a moment. There was enough food and water for a few weeks at most. The barrier, though strong, was far from infallible. By some unfortunate circumstance the adults found themselves bitten. Survivors are few and far between these days. This area had been badly hit. Little potential for help with bodies slowly succumbing to infection. A child too young to successfully navigate this world alone. They had to make a heart wrenching decision. Tears running down her cheeks she grabbed a sheet from the closet. Draping it over the bodies.
The first aid kit, some food, and a few unopened bars of soap were tossed in her backpack. Closing the front door and marking it with an s inside a circle. A reminder to her group that there were still supplies inside. She was halfway down the hall when She heard a scream. Not a moan or gurgle that the undead used but an actual scream. There was someone alive in the building.