"Come with me, and you'll be in a world of pure imagination. Take a look and you'll see into your imagination… We'll begin with a spin, traveling in a world of my creation. What we'll see will defy explanation… If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it…. Anything you want to, do it… want to change the world, there's nothing to it… there is no life I know to compare with pure imagination living there you'll be free if you truly wish to be… if you want to view paradise simply look around and view it… anything you want to do it, want to change the world… there's nothing to it."
A young, female voice broke through the silent morning. Her song a haunting melody compared to the original fun and happy song from Willy Wonka.
She swung her legs over an open ledge, one which could seriously injure her if she fell from. The ledge was a simple perch placed high in a tree, one which would normally be used for hunting but was now used to keep her safe and off the ground.
Her name was Brian White. It was a more masculine name than feminine, but she wore it proudly while also flaunting her femininity. That was to say, before the world went to shit.
Now, she was masquerading as purely male, so as not to chance coming across wandering men and getting raped. It had nearly happened before, only a few short weeks after the beginning of the apocalypse, and she wasn't chancing a repeat. Before, she had been barely surviving. Then, a group of three men had seen her with her California beach blonde hair with a swim suit model's body to match, and they had seen to trying their luck.
Now, from a fluke, Brian had killed the first man before they could tear at her clothes, and killed the second who had stood back in shock at having seen Brian shoot his friend dead. The third was angry at that point, and had fired his own shot at Brian. The bullet had scored a glancing blow to her hip while a second tore into the meat of her arm. She had only escaped the man at that point because the gunshots had attracted the attention of at least a score of the lurchers.
The man was soon torn to pieces and his wild gunshots and screams only allowed for the lurchers to be attracted to him over Brian. With this disguised blessing, she ran off, while clutching at her bleeding hip.
Now, with her blonde hair stained with dirt and braided up in a parody of a Viking's Mohawk, she looked a bit more masculine, though still quite pretty.
Brian had definitely learned a few lessons on surviving in this new apocalyptic world. Light attracts both the living and the dead. Sound attracts both the living and the dead. Smell attracts the dead. Signs of comfort attract the living which eventually attract the dead. Signs of food attract the living, which eventually attract the dead. The living don't live for long so don't get attached. The living can also be much more dangerous than the dead. The dead don't come near other dead. Sleep away from the ground up where neither the living nor the dead can find you. Use bullets only as a last resort. Always keep preservatives as long as possible and constantly search for more food. Keep spares of clothes but don't be unafraid to get new items as needed.
All of these lessons had made sure she stayed alive for as long as possible.
Now, with her carbon matrix compound bow in hand, she waited up in her perch and watched.
A few days after getting assaulted and nearly getting raped, Brian had raided a hunting supply store. The store had already been ransacked of most of its guns, but Brian wasn't at all confident in using guns. Especially as using her small handgun sent her into flashbacks of nearly having her clothes torn off as three men salivated over her. So, she had gone for the locked-up case full of different types of bows from longbows to crossbows to her compound bow, weapons which had been mostly passed over in favor of the guns.
With experience in using the deadly weapon, Brian was forced to practice for only a short amount of time as she had only ever used such a weapon for recreational activities. However, with necessity came experience. With next to no ammo, literally only the full clip in her hand gun plus exactly five other bullets carefully placed in a small pouch attached to her hip, Brian had focused on ransacking the hunting store for its entire stock of arrows. Along with the torn-out pages of a book on making her own arrows so she could replace the ones she currently had if needed as well as weapon care for her bow.
Then, while the store had been ransacked of its guns, it seemed that most people hadn't gone for the clothes or other supplies. She felt that the people had probably gone first for weaponry and food before thinking of anything that would be needed for long term use. Knowing the dangers of using tents, which she had seen dozens and dozens of little camps with torn tents where the lurchers had ripped through without trouble only to feast on the unwary occupants within, Brian instead chose something that would keep her off the ground and away from the clawing hands and biting teeth of the lurchers.
She chose to steal a perch. One which could easily be placed up high in a tree and secured well enough that there was no danger of falling to the ground. The equipment to climb any tree, even trees with no branches on the lower ten-twenty feet of the tree, allowed her to use any forest as a safe haven. A makeshift covering over the small perch allowed for safety from the elements such as rain or the eventual snow that would come with winter.
A hiking backpack, was carefully taken and used to store everything, everything which was carefully considered before being grabbed or discarded.
Before this, she had been weak. She had followed with a group of people and been safe until the lurchers had torn through a group of men. Afraid and terrified, she had run. As a result, she had been the only survivor. Then, she had found strength from surviving the three men who had nearly raped her. She had found the strength to stand on her own two feet. Strength which she hadn't had before, before when she was weak to where she wouldn't have survived without the strength of someone else watching over her.
Brian sighted a large buck, one with an impressive rack of antlers perched on its head like a crown meant for a king. With a careful breath, she pulled back an arrow knocked on the string. The feathers kissed at her cheek and her fingers brushed gently against her ear. With a pause, she waited until the pause in her own heart beat to release the string.
The large deer gave a loud, "Hurk!" and trumpeted out its death for just a moment before falling to the ground, dead. Its life blood trickled from around the arrow wound, the same arrow which had flown straight and true until it had found its place in the heart of the wild beast.
With care, Brian repelled down, and hiked over to the dead beast. On her belt were two knives. One for her own use and one for killing lurchers. She didn't know what was causing the dead to rise back up but she sure as hell didn't want to eat from a knife contaminated with lurcher blood. With the knife she used for her own personal use, Brian quickly did a messy skinning job of the animal before cutting out plenty of the meat which she would use.
She was silent and quick. Taking care to listen to her surroundings so as to not be caught unawares by a lurcher that might be lurking around in search of food. She wrapped up as much of the meat as she could carry in a cloth bag, one which she used often for this same chore, and rolled up the skin which could eventually be dried out for her own use.
Trial and error had been a large part of hunting in the beginning for her, mainly since she had never truly hunted a day in her life before the apocalypse had started. Now, with quick strides, Brian walked back to her tree and used the rope climbers to make her way back up the tree which she had made her temporary home in. With a bag dripping blood slung over one shoulder, Brian sat down in the perch and pulled apart a small metal grate which was hung from the branches of the tree she was camping in. With all her supplies in the tree with her, it was simple to grab the spare wood which had been foraged beforehand to light it up on the metal grate.
A merry little fire began which Brian than used to carefully cook and dry out most of the meat to make it into a dry sort of jerky. A jerky which could just be eaten as is, or be added to some sort of stew if fresh meat couldn't be found. While the meat was cooking, Brian pulled out a small notebook and began looking over plenty of the different songs written within. With a hum, Brian began miming the words to one of the sea shanties written within while she used her personal knife to carefully peel the fat, meat and veins from the skin of the deer.
After raiding the hunting store, the store where she had packed her hiking bag with plenty of outdoor styled clothes (which included tan colored cargo pants and steel toed boots that went to her knees), a forest camouflage patterned sleeveless hoodie, a snow camouflaged patterned jacket that was tied around her waist, a beanie cap for winter, gloves, and a pair of sunglasses, Brian went to a library. There, she had stuffed her pack full of survivalist guides and how-to guides.
Some of those books had been discarded as useless or repetitive, but most had been useful and even life-saving. Brian now had her own notebooks, only three, which were used to keep herself from going crazy since she was all alone.
The first book thick and it was filled with tons of little leaves stuck with glue, herbs in carefully packaged wrappings, taped flowers, crushed berries, nuts, and seeds all in little bags taped inside with added drawings and writings to signify danger or helpfulness. Poison Ivy and Poison Oak were each carefully packaged in a clear plastic bags and taped to the very first page with clear warnings written on the page. Poisonous berries and plants were carefully crushed flat and placed in plastic bags with warnings clearly labeled. Helpful herbs, flowers, and berries were documented and placed inside the notebook for future reference, especially since one of the books Brian had gotten was a book on herbs used in herbal remedies that worked naturally without the use of manmade chemicals.
The second book was filled with songs, poems, movie lines, quotes, debate questions, book lists to read, checklists, rules of survival, tons of little drawings, actual pictures taped to the pages, and anything else that randomly made its way onto the pages of the notebook.
The third book was a massive diary. Brian had never had a diary before the apocalypse, but writing down her experiences seemed to keep her from going insane in an insane world. Every day, Brian forced herself to write inside her diary, even if for only a few lines. She filled every page before moving on to the next one, not wanting to waste an entire page for only a few sentences when she didn't know exactly how long she would be alive to write in its contents, be it a single year or until she was old and grey.
With the all the contents of her survival, her pack was heavy. This included the small platform made from aluminum, the small steel grate used for fires which was tiny enough that Brian felt it was cost effective to lug it around with her than leave it behind and need it. She had over a hundred feet in rope wrapped in a tight coil on the side of her backpack, a climbing tool to climb any tree or power pole. Continuously growing larger was a massive container of medical supplies which were constantly being added to for the 'just in case' scenario.
She had many containers and bags for consumables which included cans and jars of food, dozens of small bags for various herbs, a large camelback for three liters of water, two extra canisters of water, and a water purifier for quick access to clean water. For comfort, Brian carried around a thick blanket, a pillow, and a simple hammock while a rain poncho and multiple dried furs from varying animals were used for anything she might need it for.
There was a container of fifty arrows tied to the other side of her pack while a quiver of twenty arrows for quick access that hung on her belt. Her hand gun which was strapped to her thigh, her two knives both which hung on her belt, the five spare bullets in the small pouch on her hip. Her bow, however, was normally always in her hand instead of slinging it over a shoulder where it might get caught up in her gear. There was also a disgusting container of lurcher guts that helped to keep the lurchers from being attracted to her that was sitting on top of her pack so it could be opened and closed easily. The pack also held her spare clothes, a pot and skillet, a fork, a spoon, a cup, a bowl, a flashlight with spare batteries, a multitool Leatherman, two lighters, a few bars of soap, and a small iPod with a small crank charger so she could listen to five minutes of music after cranking for twenty minutes. Her pack had to weigh nearly a hundred pounds, and that was being generous.
Luckily, the weight of her pack had started out light enough for her to carry. Then, as time went on and she added needed items to her pack, it grew heavier but not so heavy that she couldn't adjust to the weight. Luckily, she had grabbed a hiking bag that was durable and would last her years and years. With time, her strength and wits sharpened until the lurchers were no longer a threat but more of a nuisance. It was still the living who she was now still wary of, because they could still trick her with honeyed words that hid their poison tongue.
"Far over the Misty Mountains cold, to dungeons deep and caverns old. We must away, ere break of day; to find our long forgotten gold. The pines were roaring, on the height; the winds were moaning, in the night. The fire was red, it flaming spread; the trees like torches, blazed with light."