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The main reason she’d decided to cut through the residential area was less than moral. She’d always hated looters. When the riots were going on in the cities of Suna during her childhood her uncle would always board up the doors and grumble about the low lifes who’d always try to reap the benefits of those who’d fled in fear.
But those were different times. The world had ended and judging by the gaping hole in the abdomen of the pale teenager who hobbled toward her, the items in the house were no longer of value to it. Or to anyone else of this household, Temari figured grimly, as she glanced at the half-eaten corpses of a man and woman on the kitchen floor. She summoned up a burst of strength and slammed the walker head first into the ground- a satisfying crack resounding as her metal fan met undead skull.
After a quick check to make sure no one else-alive or dead- was in the house, she returned to the kitchen. Unfortunately it seemed like the deceased family had been running low prior to the outbreak. Everything in the fridge was useless to her and the large cans of food would be too heavy to carry. But they would work for a meal now. She opened a can of beans and a can of corn, preparing them each in their own pots and placing them on the stove. At least the gas and electricity hadn't been shut off. Yet.
While her meal cooked she searched for any lighter nonperishable foods and found a couple granola bars and a container of nuts she emptied out into a zip lock and put into her messenger bag along with two more bottles of water. She noticed the bag was beginning to be too heavy to shoulder around so her next task was to look for a backpack, easily found in one of the closets. It seemed like this family liked to go camping. Transferring the contents of her bag into the tan hiker backpack, she also added sanitary wipes, two walkie-talkies, and protective goggles.
Temari began to move quicker as she glanced at her watch. There was no point in keeping time anymore but she kept it to make sure she didn't stay in one place too long. The key to survival was constantly being on the move. Before she returned to the kitchen she stopped by what she assumed had been the teenager’s room. Only feeling the tiniest bit of guilt she traded her white tank-top for a tight, dark purple long-sleeve, swapped her red hoodie for a warmer black zip-up jacket and pulled on some white leggings up under her dark purple tennis skirt. She knew there’d be no keeping them clean but they would be something against the cold.
Suddenly, eager to be on the move again, she pulled the backpack on, deciding to just keep her fan on hand, she put her corn and beans into a tuppawear and grabbed a fork, both of which she put into the backpack to eat at the next place she stopped. It was then she heard the scream again.
It was coming from next door. Discernible this time: “Please stop”.
Before she could think about it she was dashing out the door and across the yard. She burst through the half-way open door and down a dark hallway, increasing the pace as she heard one last raspy scream. She came to a halt as she turned the corner- too late.
But for once, it was too late to make the kill but perhaps not too late to save the…
“Were you bit? Scratched?” Temari demanded of the trembling girl. She seemed only a few years younger than herself but an exact age was difficult to pinpoint – definitely high school age though.
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