Author's Note: This is the last chapter. Thank you to everyone who's favorited, followed, or reviewed this story. You guys are great. Hope this was enjoyed, and please review!

Day 94

I wake up on the floor, a puddle of drool next to my cheek.

I'm curled up in a ball for warmth, having nodded off in only a coat and boots the night before. I don't get up, just wipe my cheek with the back of my sleeve. I haven't eaten in two days.

Maybe I'll die today. Maybe God, or whoever's up there, will show some mercy for once. I have no shame in feeling sorry for myself.

There's a knock at the door.

"What the hell?" I mutter, and shudder, thinking that he was the last person to tap on my door.

I contemplate pretending to be dead, when the person knocks again. I laboriously get to my feet, and the hunger pangs nearly knock me right back down again. Slight disoriented, I open the door without checking the peephole first.

I'll admit, there's some part of me that is hoping to see Adrian standing in the doorway. Maybe it's my lack of blood sugar, or I'm going crazy with grief, or maybe I'm just a moron. It's not him, of course.

It's a boy, probably twelve, with black bowl cut and olive toned skin. He wears a thread bare coat. I'm so surprised, I don't say anything.

"Hi." He says. He waits for me to speak, but I don't.

"The south tunnel is going to be open today. You need to get out of here while you can."

"How?" I manage to choke out.

He shrugs. "I dunno. I live at the boy's orphanage a block over. Mr. Blake told me to tell people to get out."

I don't know what to say after that. The boy just nods, and then is gone.

How he found me, in this empty apartment building, I don't know. How the south tunnel is gonna be open, I don't know. What I do know is that I need to get the hell out, and now I actually have a chance. I don't wanna die.

I search desperately in the kitchen, for some morsel of food to tide me over. I can't go anywhere on such a pathetically empty stomach. I find nothing.

Then it occurs to me, that maybe he kept a secret stash in his apartment too, under the bed, or something, like I did. I haven't ventured back there since they killed him. There was no point, until now, except to reignite my constant pain.

I brace myself, and head back down the familiar hallway for the first time in weeks.

His apartment is the same as the day he died, except for a coating of dust on the horizontal surfaces. The kitchen is as empty as mine, so are start to look around, ignoring the blood stains on the carpet, and trying to think about nothing other than each simple task.

I check under the bed first, to find nothing but a pair of tennis shoes. I check the single closet, but only find sweaters and a suit jacket. I check a couple of end table drawers, and coming up empty, I sit down on the piano bench to sulk.

I guess I'll be running on empty. I'm already beyond exhausted.

I stare at the grand piano for a while before it hits me. In a second, I'm up on my feet and jacking open the top of the piano. Inside, sitting serenely on the strings, is two cans, one of vegetables, the other of kidney beans. On top, a sticky note with a familiar handwriting.

Just in case. ~A

I pick them up carefully, like they may shatter at any moment and disappear forever. A miracle like this is worthy of veneration.

He's still looking out for me. I only let the tears fall for a second before hurrying out.

I race back to my apartment, and snarf down the vegetables cold as I find a backpack. I want to eat the other can, too, the presence of food In my stomach making me even hungrier, but I have to save it for when, and if, I make it out of this city.

I put in the kidney beans, a few extra undergarments, and a second shirt in the book bag. Then I put on three coats, a hat, and a scarf. I find the sticky note, and then carefully settle it into an outer pocket.

I look around the apartment one last time, thinking I should feel some kind of nostalgia. I've barely left this apartment for three months. But instead of a need to stay on familiar turf, all I feel is the necessity to get the fuck away from here forever. I close the door on my way out, speed walk down the hallway, and don't look back.

Out on the street, I slip past the general store guards unnoticed, while they're preoccupied by another tiny shipment coming in. The minute I turn the corner I'm running, slipping on the icy sidewalk and trying to orient myself in the direction of the south tunnel. By the time I get there, my chest is heaving, the cold air stinging my lungs. I'm terribly out of shape.

The boy is true to his word. A hole the size of a truck has been blown through the makeshift barricade. The tunnel is indeed open.

I smile. It's a foreign expression.

It's when I start to make a break for the opening that the first gunshots are fired. I look up and see the snipers, concealed along the upper level street. Bane's men have beaten me here. I don't stop moving as the bullets ping off the ground near my feet. The bag beats against my back, and a cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. I've never pushed so hard in my life as the entrance to the tunnel, and salvation, gets closer and closer.

With some luck, I'll make it.