No one really ever expected the world to end. It was just a turn of phrase, an embellishment. A joke, to some. Humans have been around for hundreds of thousands of years, they'd said, they'll be around forever. From where Lucy Cooper was standing, the future wasn't looking so promising for the species. Unless you considered those things humans, which Lucy did not.
She fired another nine millimetre lead bullet through the decaying skull of a passing Bobby, as she called them. The females she had nicknamed Bettys. The jaw-less corpse froze and fell to the ground, it's white marble eyes still staring up at her. If she'd had the stomach, she would have stomped what was left of it's head in.
Instead, she adjusted her heavy backpack and kept on walking down the deserted highway. She could see a pile up of broken down vehicles ahead, not more than a mile, and she was determined to get to it before sundown. She drank down the last of her water and broke into a light paced jog. She didn't need to look behind her to know that her faithful German Shepherd dog Pandora was keeping pace, just a few steps behind her.
She got to the vehicles well before sunset and began the dangerous task of rifling through them. Every dead body was a potential Betty or Bobby and she wasn't taking any chances, making sure to sever the spine from the base of the skull before she let herself be tempted by any leftover material possessions.
She found several blankets, but only took the two lightest ones which she could affix to her already overburdened knapsack. She swapped out cans of beans for cans of Spam when she found them – more protein – and managed to fill her four litre jug with drinkable, albeit warm, water. She found no weapons. No knives. No guns. No ammo. A hefty letdown but nothing compared to the disappointment that overcame her upon the realization that there were no medical supplies to pilfer. No drugs. No gauze. Nothing. She knelt down and scratched behind Pandora's scruffy ears. A quick inspection to the pus-filled wound on the dogs backside assured her that they would not be travelling together for much longer. The thought of putting her best friend, her only friend, only companion in the world, down was just too much to bear for the moment. With a deep breath, they trudged on through the rows of wrecked automobiles until they came upon something so peculiar that she had to stop. In white paint on the window of a broken down blue Chevy hatchback read the haunting words:
STAY HERE SOPHIA. WE WILL COME BACK EVERYDAY.
Lucy pulled her Baretta from it's holster and cautiously looked around. She had sensed it before when she was searching through the cars and trucks. Someone had already been there. Someone had taken the weapons and drugs and most of the water. Now she was sure of that and one other thing: they were coming back. For someone named Sophia. Had they always been around today? Probably, she figured, as she gazed west at the pink horizon. The sun would be gone in less than an hour. No one would risk searching around in the dark, even if it was for a lost loved one. Then she noticed the food and drink left on the hood and a flood of relief washed over her when she saw the familiar white bottle. Hydrogen Peroxide.
She dragged the two dead, nearly dry, bodies from the vehicle and locked her and Pandora inside. Holding the dog down the best she could, Lucy poured a quarter of the bottle onto the Shepherd's wound. It broke what was left of her heart to hear the pup squeal in pain but she held her firm nonetheless. She wiped the bubbling pus away and rinsed it with what little water she had found. The dog's cries dulled to a mild whine. Lucy laid back and pulled the dog's head into her lap. She stroked her head as she sang them both to sleep.
"Hush little Panda, don't say a word,
Momma's gonna find you some real dog food.
And when that dog food's done and gone,
Momma's gonna shoot you a real nice fawn.
And if I can't quite make that mark,
Momma's gonna catch you a big fat quark.
And if that big fat quark gets away,
Momma's gonna make you a Spam buffet.
And if you ever get sick of Spam,
Momma's gonna make Green Eggs and Ham.
And when Green Eggs and Ham turn to slime,
We'll still have each other till the end of time."
A thin tear broke through as she closed her eyes and fell asleep, one hand on her dog, the other on her gun. She would wait one day and if the people who left the message and the supplies did not return, she would have to assume that they were dead. She would have to truck on.