Anyone who knows anything about me knows that in no particular order, there are three things in life I hold most dear to my heart:

1.) Being outside.

2.) My sister Jane.

3.) Books

So when the world falls to shit and you're left trying to just survive each day without killing someone else or yourself, you need a plan to keep you both alive and sane. The best way is to use the things you love as the means to an end.

After my family's resources began getting scarce, it fell to me to be locate supplies to get us by. I was happy walking long distances outside, I knew how to use an actual paper map without needing to consult a GPS, and had enough common sense to mostly stay out of trouble.

Armed with said paper maps, a compass, an army knife, and enough food and water to get by for a day or two, I began "salvaging". Not everything I found in abandoned clinics, convenience stores, and thrift shops were of value to me or my family, but they would usually be valuable to someone.

Anything I picked up that our family didn't need was brought to the Meryton marketplace. It was like those giant flea markets we used to go to, only instead of just selling antiques and crafts, there was food, candles, clothing, household items- almost anything of necessity. And since paper money is pointless, we only trade goods.

I did most of the acquisition part our job, and Jane did most of the bartering of it. You see, Jane is basically the real life version of a fairy princess. Though I haven't seen birds and deer gather around her (yet), and no one has spontaneously burst into song when they walk by her (excepting myself, of course), I am fairly convinced that her royal fairytale parents will come to collect her at some point.

But I digress. Everyone who knows her, loves her, and she loves just about everyone. So when she stands there, smiling and sweetly asking a seller to trade a carton of mouse eaten cigarettes for two giant sacks of grain, pretty much no one has the ability to tell her no. Works like a charm. A magical secret fairy charm...

And as for my books, there was a seller that got a run on a library about a year ago. His books aren't a bargain, but if we have anything left over I usually trade towards a novel. The book I had my eye on? A very well read copy of Gone With the Wind. I'd been quietly drooling over it for months. And since the seller had bit of a sweet tooth, I was fairly certain the cupcakes I found would be more than enough to tempt him to trade it.

Jane and I had ventured back to the gas station yesterday after breakfast, and returned to the house with the remainder of the usable insulation, three dozen nails we'd pulled from the wall, several metal shelves that could potentially be melted down and repurposed, and the very lucky find of an unused plastic gas canister that could be used to hold water. After separating out the items we were keeping, we tied the rest into bundles that we could carry to Meryton.

"Jane, Lizzie? If you're headed over to the market, could you pick up some pens and paper if you can find them?" my father asked as my sister and I put on our coats by the door.

"Yeah, Dad, we'll see what we can do." Jane made a face as she shoved her foot inside her boot, immediately yanking it back out. She reached in and pulled out twig, narrowing her eyes at me as if I had put it there.

"It was probably a gnome," I speculated. "They do that. All mischievous with the twigs and things."

"Oh, and if you see Mr. Bingley, give him my regards."

"Frank! Will you stop? Since you refuse to talk to him, what's the point? I'm sick of hearing about him!" my mother cried out.

"That's really too bad, I wish you'd told me before I ran into him yesterday. He seemed like a nice guy, and said he looked forward to meeting you all. I suppose the next time I see him I'll tell him I was mistaken, that I don't actually have any children, just a small herd of goats that I occasionally confuse for family."

"Oooh! You visited him? Oh, I knew you'd come around! Oh girls, you have the best father…"

And just like that, Jane and I gained three extra ladies in our excursion to the market, which I can assure you is a very rare occurrence. Occasionally my sisters go to try and buy useless things like old makeup and fancy shoes, and to flirt with every boy within a six foot radius. My mother purely goes to gossip with the other mothers. It's embarrassing. And this time she's clearly going to get all the dirt on poor Charlie Bingley. "Poor" being a figure of speech of course.

The market is inside the old gymnasium of Meryton high school. It's remarkably clean and well organized for having gone five years or so with tons of foot traffic and very little maintenance. There's about fifty identical plastic folding tables in all, which probably used to be for students to eat their lunches on. We get meat from the butcher, which thankfully is frozen instead of salted because it's so cold out this time of year. Among our other favorite vendors is a lady who knits socks, gloves, and sweaters, an excellent baker, an older couple who sells hand crafted carpentry tools… you can get almost anything you need in Meryton.

I was surprised how many people were in attendance; it was actually warm inside due to the throngs of market goers. While my mom and sisters went off in search of… oh, who cares? Jane and I went off in search of Mrs. Lucas, the mother of one of my best friends and a former computer technician. It was a good bet that she'd have some old reams of computer paper she'd be willing to part with for something of ours. She did, and we chatted cordially for a few minutes before Jane started nudging my shoulder.

I looked up to see my mother standing next to a very attractive young man and frenetically beckoning my sister and I to join her. I shut my eyes and mentally willed her to stop. But she didn't stop, and I was very soon being gently led by Jane over to who I could only assume was Charles Bingley. My mother introduced both of us, and I liked him immediately. He was funny and charming, and smiling most intently at Jane.

"Mr. Bingley, are you planning on staying here for a while?" my mother asked, batting her eyes at him like a deranged llama.

"Please, call me Charlie. And, yes. That is, I hope to be," he said, with a bashful glance at my sister, "My two sisters, Louisa and Caroline, are here with me. And my old friend from college, Will Darcy, will be staying with us for a while too," he said, pointing to a group of people loitering around a table of farming parts.

To say that they all stood out like sore thumbs would be an understatement. Both of Charlie's sisters were wearing matching expressions of disgust, designer skirts and blouses, and painful looking high heeled shoes. It amazed me that they were able to walk in them through the mud and dust of the Meryton roads. And I kid you not, one of them even had lipstick on.

Will Darcy seemed about as thrilled to be standing in a high school gymnasium marketplace as Charlie's sisters. You would've thought that someone had just informed him that in order to leave, he was going to have to stuff horse manure down his starched shirt. I have to admit though, he was extremely handsome with a clever looking mouth, deep brown eyes, and a mop of artfully disheveled dark hair. Exactly my type.

I watched with amusement as he touched a pair of gardening shears, looked at his fingers with a scowl, and wiped his hand on his mostly immaculate pants. Err, maybe not so much my type, since I tend to like guys that are able to sport at least one more facial expression beyond "irritated". He glanced up and briefly caught my eye before unenthusiastically fiddling with a button on the cuff of his shirt.

After a few minutes of small talk, my mother caught on that Charlie was very interested in Jane, and Jane seemed very interested in him. She made some lame excuse about needing me to help her buy potatoes and practically dragged me away to give Jane and Charlie "time to get to know each other".

As she pulled me along at an alarmingly quick pace, she pointed over to Charlie's companions, bluntly (and loudly) asserting everything she'd managed to glean from the dubious fact-checking conversations she'd had from Meryton's finest gossips. "Will Darcy is very attractive, isn't he Lizzie? And Mrs. Long said that he's ten times as well off as Charlie is. He's a doctor and his family owns an entire gated community- Pem… something. Forty-five houses and a giant containment fence, guards, enough land for growing…" I wandered away from her as she started regurgitating Will Darcy's acreage size to Mrs. King.

As I waited for Jane to finish her very animated conversation with Charlie, I began perusing through the largish collection of books on the table of my favorite seller. It was so easy to get lost in them. There were many classics, as well as a few I knew nothing about, and I busied myself with reading the blurbs on the back of some of the paperbacks. Almost half an hour had passed when I realized that Jane was no longer talking to Charlie, that he was now standing at the other end of the table talking with Will Darcy. Overhearing Charlie mention Jane's name, curiosity got the better of me and I pretended to read while listening to the quiet conversation the two men were having.

"Come on, Darcy, can you at least pretend like you're enjoying yourself and maybe introduce yourself to some of these nice people?"

Thank you! Somebody needed to say it. One point for Charlie.

"I can't believe that I am actually standing in what I can only describe as a backcountry flea market. I know it's gotten bad in some areas, but this is ridiculous. I think it's been months since some of these people have bothered to bathe," Will said with some sort of posh English accent. Unfortunately it only made him seem more out of place than he already looked.

Regardless, the scents wafting from the crowd were less than stellar, so I was willing to give him that. One point for Doctor Will.

"Oh, come on! I've never seen so many lovely, welcoming people in all my life!"

Two points Charlie, one for Will.

"You're only saying that because you've been chatting up the only pretty girl in the room, besides your sisters," Will said as he looked over at Jane, who was talking with Mrs. Lucas again.

Still two points for Charlie, docking Will's one point on the basis of general douchery.

"She is beautiful, isn't she? And so sweet. I really like her Will. Oh, and she was telling me that her sister Lizzie is something of salvager, and knows the roads and woods better than anyone. You should think about hiring her to hunt down some of the medical supplies you're running low on. And she's easy on the eyes too."

Twenty points Charlie, Will zero.

Will rolled his eyes, "Jane's sister?"

I looked intently at the back of a Charles Dicken's novel, avoiding any glances from either of the men standing nearby.

"Have you gone completely blind, Charlie? Besides, I certainly don't need some scrappy girl to show me around this hell hole. Finish up your business, the sooner we can leave, the happier I'll be," Will scoffed.

And Charlie wins with twenty points while Will loses in an earth shattering defeat of negative ten thousand points. In shame, he turns tail and runs back to his Pem-Whatever houses, never to be seen or heard from again. With any luck.

Though I was obviously offended by Will Darcy's horrible comment, he was so ridiculously rude that I couldn't help finding some humor in it. Seeing my friend Charlotte Lucas walk in, I laid the book down and walked directly past Will and Charlie with an amused smile on my face, and related what had just transpired to her. I even went so far as to imitate Will's accent and disapproving scowl. As we giggled quietly, I glanced over in Will's direction to find him staring quizzically at me. He then picked up a few books, handed the seller something that looked like a necklace, and stalked out.

Charlotte tilted her head to one side, watching as he walked away. "You have to admit though… that is one nice derrière…"

"Yeah, it is. And infinitely nicer to look at than his snobby face. Maybe they should switch locations. You know, surgically. 'Cause he clearly prefers talking like an asshole."

Charlotte whistled through her teeth, "Ouch. Has anyone told you recently that you're kinda mean when you're irritated?"

"You're so complimentary, Charlotte."

"Just telling it like it is, Liz."

I patted her on the shoulder. "It's the precise reason why we're friends. Seriously though, tell me he doesn't deserved to be mocked…"

"He does, but it seemed a little harsh, even for you. That's the fastest I've ever seen anyone get under your skin."

"He must be special," I said sarcastically. "That was the fastest anyone has ever dismissed my ability to do my job. I hope he runs out of band-aids. By tomorrow."

"Why? So you can prove yourself by finding some and bartering with him?"

"Pwffft. No! I'd use them to decorate my boots. And I'd wear them as I walked by the big fancy house he's living in. Just to piss him off."

"Lizzie!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I said, grinning at Charlotte, "I wouldn't wear my nice boots to walk by Netherfield. Seems more like a dirty bare-feet occasion."

Charlotte laughed aloud and pushed me in the direction of the book table, "Go get your book you jerk. I wanna go back to your house and get the Bingley scoop from Jane."

"The Bingley scoop? Is that like Rocky Road covered in caramel sauce?"

"I hate that you always bring up things we'll never put in our mouths again. It's not a dessert, Lizzie, it's gossip."

"But it's delicious gossip…" I pointed out.

"Will you go? Before I need a walking stick and padded shoes to get out of here?"

"Okay, fine. And to satisfy your current dessert craving, if I can get the seller to go for just two packages of cupcakes, we'll feast on package number three," I said, heading away from her.

I laughed as she silently pantomimed singing the lyrics to "Have I Told You Lately That I Love You", complete with a soulful stare and hands clutching at her heart. Still smiling, I reached the table, looking for the pale yellow cover of the soon-to-be-mine book. It wasn't where I left it. I lifted books up, stacked them into piles, even looked under the damned table, but it wasn't there. And then realization dawned on me, and the proverbial nail in the coffin of my hatred for Mr. William Darcy occurred.

That son of a bitch had bought the only copy of Gone With the Wind.