A/N- I am going to take a moment to say…. TODAY WAS MY FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL! Haha, I'm not telling what grade. I'm paranoid of creepers. I've met all my teachers, seen my friends again, contracted a huge headache, and immediately ran home to my beloved FanFiction. It's nice to be back in school. C= One thing I will miss about summer, the freedom to randomly skip around singing. If you sing at the top of your lungs in the middle of science class, well.

Then again, Spark said on .com, a whole math class started singing Bad Romance. She wants to try to get that going in our band class. Epicness if it works.

I'm rambling.

Okay, bottom line. I'm writing another chapter to celebrate my happiness. I hope school doesn't affect my already inconsistent updating, but I don't think it will. Let's begin!

Chapter Nine – Present Time - Encounter

It had been two years. But I was getting along fine. I had lived on the streets, so this wasn't exactly new to me. After the first few months, the worst of it was over. By now, I questioned if there was anybody else alive other than me.

But that was okay. I wasn't much of a people person anyway.

I wasn't sure how much land I had covered by now, and I really didn't care. What I did care about was that I had found another city, and this one wasn't completely flattened. I stayed in the suburbs, though. No need to take risks. I was going to stay on the outskirts, and ensure myself a quick escape. Just in case.

I gave the door a light push. Evidently somebody had locked the grocery store. Peering in through the window, I saw bloodstains on the tiled floor. But there was still food in there. Canned food, which is probably how it lasted this long.

I quietly picked the lock. I slipped in, silent as a ghost. Yes, all the people were gone, but I had only survived for so long by being careful. I wasn't going to start taking risks now.

After so much practice, my footsteps were silent. I made no noise. I was about to inspect the food, see what was edible, when I heard a creak. I swung my head toward the noise, to see a door move open a few inches.

There wasn't a breeze; the air was dead. Which meant something else was here with me.

I slipped toward the door, cautious, my knife held ready.

I gradually became aware of something cold and hard being pressed against my neck.

I panicked, but didn't move. As much as I hated living like this, taking care of myself, sleeping in a closet, I knew that it had allowed me to survive the apocalypse. I also knew that if whomever –or whatever- this was knew I was awake; there was a good chance I'd die.

I wasn't much of an actor, but I tried to keep my breathing even and slow.

"I know that you're awake. Just sit up. Nice and slow."

As I said, I wasn't much of an actor. I opened my eyes distrustfully, and slowly sat up.

The newcomer was older than me, maybe fifteen or so, about three years older than me. He was tall for his age, and muscular yet thin. His hair was dirty blonde, and a bit long, but not enough that it would get in his eyes, which were icy blue, and staring me down.

"Who are you?" He asked me, obviously wary. I was too, though. I hadn't seen another person in months. He probably hadn't either.

I pulled myself up straighter, and answered him.

"Acel. I'm twelve. You?"

He didn't move, but his eyes betrayed his surprise at my calm. Ha. It worked. If you show fear, the situation only gets worse.

"…Titus."

I smiled at him. He was like me, lucky. Survivors.

My grin unsettled him, and Titus growled at me.

"I'm going to leave you alive, seeing as you don't seem willing or even able to kill me." His eyes were hard and mean. "I'm going to fill my backpack with food, and leave. You are going to stay here, and go back to whatever you were doing before."

I nodded, fully intending to ignore what he said and follow him.

After three hours of walking, I decided that I'd put enough distance between 'Acel' and I. I was wary of him. He wasn't afraid of me, and he'd somehow survived this long, even if, with one glance, I knew for a fact that he wasn't capable of killing somebody.

The kid was scrawny, with messy black hair, a thin nose, and a general agile appearance, even if he clearly had never run in his life. I was willing to bet he was some snooty rich kid. Acel didn't have a muscle in his body. He'd probably be pretty fast if he tried, given his build, but I was willing to bet his largest workout ever had been pulling himself out of bed in the morning.

By now, I was walking on an abandoned highway. I walked to the side, finding a fairly nice sized bush in the thin shrubbery. It was thick enough to hide me from sight. I preferred trees, but I could hide anywhere. Practice, practice, practice.

I used my ever-useful knife to sort of cut a hole into the leaves. I took my time, being careful so that it wouldn't be visible to passerby.

Right. Don't want the ghosts to see me, do I?

After maybe ten minutes or so, I was almost done, and crawled in for the final touches. It was a sort of hallowed-out cave made by bending and cutting the branches just so. It was like a little leafy shrub igloo.

I set up camp, meaning I took out a blanket and set down my backpack. I didn't have much, and unpacking only to pack up again in a few hours was pointless and wasted time.

So, I pried open a can of what looked like green beans and helped myself. I wasn't picky, and the beans were still fresh. I must say, cans are lifesavers.

I wonder how that boy Acel had survived. He had no visible weapons, looked like a fragile little stick, and from the looks of it, hadn't been on the run, he'd hunkered down.

That was it. He hid the whole time. Found a quiet, out-of-the-way old shop, and hid there. He had the food, and maybe even a toilet; the staffroom had to have had one.

Of course, he was a kid. Made prefect sense. Strangely, during the 'end of the world,' the kids lasted the longest, fought the hardest. See, while adults were the 'smartest,' they really weren't.

Adults were usually very wrapped up in their own problems and didn't really notice what was happening around them until it came up and slapped them in the face. Working jobs, paying bills, and running families also tended to stamp most of their instincts out. Who needed old primal urges when you had a world of financial issues to deal with?

Kids were more attentive to what was going on. They still acted on impulses, and yet were old enough to think at the same time. So, they saw the signs, and hightailed it out of there as soon as they could. Of course, children can't very well take care of themselves, but that creativity kept them alive much longer. Kids like me, street kids, lasted longest as we were used to being on our own.

But Acel? He was some rich kid who couldn't run to save his life. I was frankly surprised that he had hung on so long, but I wasn't about to go teaming up with him. He would be a burden to me; I had to keep on the move. I didn't even know myself what I was looking for, but I felt empty; like something was missing. So I wandered wherever my feet took me.