The sun beat down on the abandoned road. Crows pecked lazily at the rotting remains of the dead. They hopped on and around the rusting cars and cawed at each other. Suddenly, the birds flew about in a frenzy of black feathers as one of the bodies lunged sloppily at them. The thing hit the ground with a wet thud and struggled to stand back up. The commotion was infectious, and soon many of the bodies were groaning and shuffling about. After dodging the shambling corpses, the murder of crows took shelter in the outlying trees of the forest by the sun-baked road. There, they continued their relentless cawing and hopping about, annoyed at the sudden lack of still food.

Hidden in a well crafted nest camouflaged into the higher boughs of an old oak tree, Nita tried to contain her annoyance at her new companions. They pecked and pulled at her black hair and cawed in her ears. Slowly, so as not to disturb the finicky birds, she slipped down to the lower branches. Her slender, toned body made it easy to move about. Pulling away a chunk of the tree, she slipped into a hole. She pulled a cover down behind her and latched it into place. The tree itself was a fake and hollowed out to create an entrance into an underground bunker. Within the base of the tree, she pulled open a heavy door and dropped through, catching the ladder just below. She locked the door and climbed down the ladder. Moving by touch down a long hallway with many more doors, she made her way to the main room. Beside the final door was a candle. Once lit, it illuminated yet another door. She stepped through, stopping only to smell the air within, and found a machine the size of a large cooler. It took a few pulls to get the generator going. The lights flickered to life. The room was filled with gasoline tanks. Nervously, she blew out the candle. Nita hated bringing a candle in here, but she didn't want to waste any of her precious batteries on a flashlight. "This would be fine if I could just find a crank powered lantern." she mumbled to herself.

The main room, now dimly lit by weak light-bulbs, was more open and scarcely furnished. There was an old, threadbare couch in the center. Next to it, on a worn wooden table, was a cracked lamp. Books littered the coffee table in front of the couch. All of them were extras that wouldn't fit on the bookshelf against the wall. Nita did a quick sweep of the rooms; bathroom, showers, barracks, bedrooms, kitchen, storeroom; and relaxed. Her home was as empty as ever. She glanced at the wind up watch on her slender wrist. 18:00. The sun would be setting soon. She sighed. Nobody had passed down the road in almost a week. The cars were, by now, emptied of any useful supplies and there were no towns nearby. No passersby meant no supply trade. Her pantry was nearly empty. She had already begun digging into her backup mre supply, which was not doing her stomach any favors.

After a forced meal, Nita wandered about the bunker, checking and rechecking the doors and locks. She made sure that all entrances were secured and clear of obstacles. Once confirmed, she went about checking inventory. There hadn't been much rain lately, but her water tank was nearly half full. The water purifier was working fine, too. In the pantry, she noted two unopened boxes of mres and one that was half empty. In the stock room was a wall lined with miscellaneous weapons, though most of the guns had no ammo, and the adjacent wall was lined with shelves for ammo. There was no shortage of .308 and .22, though she could always do with more. Her stock of .45 and 9mm were running terribly low and she was nearly out of .40, though many of the other handgun calibers were fairly well stocked. Sighing in frustration, she chose a .380 Ruger LCP from the wall and strapped it into a thigh holster, hanging her Beretta in its place. She filled the spare mags and grabbed a few more boxes of .380. She then collected one of the many unused medpacks, a few adrenaline shots and some pain pills before heading back to her room.

Aside from the barracks, the bunker had two bedrooms. Her father had designed the thing for the two of them to ride out the apocalypse. He had been rather obsessed with it since her mother had died. She didn't mind. Eventually, it did come. At least they were prepared. She peeked into her father's room on the way to her own. Nothing had changed. His military awards, flags, and the like were pinned to the walls. Everything was neat and tidy. His uniform was laid neatly on the bed. Nita looked away and shut the door quietly. She couldn't stand seeing the bloody stain on the sleeve.

In her room, she began packing various things, including what she had grabbed from the storeroom, into a rucksack. She pulled a crate from her closet. Contained within was an assortment of her favorite foods from the mres and different other meals. She packed some of those as well. Tucking a Twinky into her pocket, she grabbed a map and headed to the living room. Munching on the sweet snack, she pored over the map. There was a town to the south, but she doubted very seriously that it would have anything useful. Many of the groups that had come through her way had come from there. On the other side of the large forest was a larger town, nearly a city, by her guess. Nita did not like the idea of going to such a large place. They tended to be quite populated. Such a thing could prove deadly in this situation. Unfortunately for her, this seemed to be the best option for supplies. She wiped her mouth and folded the map.

A quick shower later, she went to bed. The generator was off again and the bunker was silent. Not even the crows could be heard through the thick walls. Nita fell into a fitful sleep plagued with dreams of her past trips. The night passed quickly, though, and she was up and getting ready for her trip at 06:00. She tightened the belt around her slender hips, making sure all of her smaller tools were easily accessible. She strapped the Ruger to her thigh. Her camouflage pants were tucked into her tightly laced boots. Over her black, long-sleeved under armor shirt, she strapped on some light-weight armor for her torso and arms. The knee pads were a bit worn, but she strapped them on anyway. To the velcro on her chest armor, she secured a mini medpack, an adrenaline shot, rifle magazines, and more small tools. Despite her armor, she was still lightweight and mobile. She brushed her long, black hair into a bun. She slipped a black balaclava and goggles over her head and checked her reflection. Her hazel eyes stared back at her. Lowering her goggles and securing her home, Nita set out on her mission.

The first sound Nita heard upon exiting was the high pitched whine of a crying woman. Not a good start to her day.