True Survivor 2AF

NOTE: This heavily unfinished work was a part of a collaborative effort in a now shut down website (RIP -not enough support). I truly miss and appreciate the people I've met on that site and read or collaborated with. Unfortunately for this story -(which was discontinued even before the site was closed) I can't quite remember the details or exact premise, but I do recall that it happens in a dystopian setting and there are different types of survivors (which we get to choose whether first or third person): Survivors that are suffering -and would be heavily disadvantaged -in some way; and True survivors. True survivors didn't have physical disadvantages but are pyschologically effected (*and perhaps gifted (think X-men) somehow? That's the part I can't recall) While I won't put the exact original here, I do wish to continue this (not necessarily story for story's sake but for an exercise in character growth; she won't know that she's a true survivor until she encounters others) on my blog. 2AF is simply 2 years after AF -I think we could choose time as well (as long as it was reasonable* so that it could be somewhat a cohesive story: different perspectives on same event)
After the fact: I think I just like rambly characters. As long as they're my characters, though. ~ oops ~

I had a name. But ever since the Fallout, there isn’t much I can remember -at least not about myself. It doesn’t matter who began the Fallout, or what brought humanity to this point since all are affected in some horrific way or other. Myself? I have only suffered (?) memory loss. Others -of all stripes -are of course dead, irreparably maimed and/or physically and psychologically suffering. I suppose that eclipses my own resentment at having a higher chance at surviving; at having to start from scratch. A new beginning in every sense of the word. 

When it all began…well, when the scavenging aspect, at least -began in earnest, I had been residing in a small town far enough away from the “horrors” of war. Soon, even our town couldn’t stave off the influx hoping to escape the city, or diseases that ensued thus many townspeople, too have met whatever gods they believed. Of those who endured the first waves from the epicenter, began acquiring mutations and diseases like it was the fashionable thing to do. It would be better for them to be dead and not suffering -and I want to help because the one or two of us can’t possibly survive with supplies dwindling. But mostly, they should* die be put out of their misery because they present a few…challenges…to acquiring life necessities. Case in point: I had some food stashed in our apartment basement -never mind who the 'we' are in 'our' -but once I'd seen that someone had opened a box of cereal; sores appearing on his body and coughing up blood [before spontaneously combusting, I shall generously not add] I became more wary of every boxed foods whether exposed or not. My canned foods lasted me until it didn't. It wasn't that I was making five course meals with what I had, my former residing acquaintance had been trading our -MY -supplies, rather poorly neither benefiting him nor myself. Needless to say, it ended shortly, and I was rather relieved I wasn't the one who had to do it. The butane cooker I still owned surprisingly, I had been using to boil water from bottled water I'd rightfully seized from stores since rain now seldom graces our land. I feel ever more strongly a giddiness about the consequence of human folly -a well deserved situation that will reflect our true selves: no social mores will stop me from surviving. It doesn't mean I won't help a fellow human being -it's that we all failed to assist each other when we had plenty and now we must help each other in order to survive. But, neither here nor there -as now is the time to finally escape -yes, but that's its own diary -this town. The world is a sore and I bleed through it. 

I had kept my eyes peeled for any type of overhang or cave or something that remotely resembled protection from the sun...luckily today, the sky was literally decorated with clouds. Even though I was wearing a 'surgical' mask, the thought of breathing in my own breath was still quite unappealing -at least oxygen still existed some whereabouts in the atmosphere, although there was a definite flavor of death casually mingling about. The smell was worse the farther away from town I walked, which makes sense since dead carcasses of animals were laying around, but no need to head back --this is the perfect excuse for me to travel...safely...okay, okay -let's just say I'd rather die exploring than being holed up where I didn't plan on living my entire life anyway...but why did I move there to begin with? My gut says that I was running away from something, but I don't recall what it was. I'm not too worried about that, though. Problems have a way of always being where you try to run away to...it never goes away...problems...running away...I truly believe if I knew my name, that would explain something. Heck, it might just be the problem I was running from...Of course it would be easier if I had chronicled anything to begin with...but I still don't...well...I suppose I'm beginning to now, but I can't wait to meet someone else who is superior with language and actually enjoys doing something like this and will document my story for me...with me? Doesn't matter. Refocusing -

Hope of all hope would be to spy an [alive] animal, not because of its mere delicious existence, but because it's surviving on some food source that I may be able to also...survive off of...maybe...course, I've never had to live off the land before, neither have I ever had to learn to kill and cook an animal but it just sounds like more work even though I am an omnivore through and through...I'd have to learn fast. At worst, I know how to catch rain and boil it for drinking. Otherwise, I might be fasting for the first time in my life. Again, won't dwell on that since there's nothing to be caught, and I'm still walking...and walking...because according to the sign I passed just a puny 15 miles ago, the next city is a good... ... ...85 miles away. I think there's something between here and there that I could perhaps stea borr acquire more provisions...maybe more canned goods that aren't tainted by the fallout. ...maybe...
I chanced a brief look at the sky, raising my since the sun was behind me...and was pleased that my eyes didn't burn out of my sockets...while it did, sting for not having contact with *natural light for however many days-months...I suppose I was expecting bleeding eyeballs since I've only ever been out at night. What directly harmed my vision mostly was the shininess embedded [nestled] amidst the darkness --of the asphalt road --and so I put my sunglasses back on. ...my head and started skipping down the road. I couldn't say it was 'moon craziness' [or smart considering I didn't eat enough food to have enough energy for this extra curricular activity] but if I kept going on like this I was just asking for a heat stroke. Not that I could help it. There was a certain amount of freedom of not having societal responsibilities or expectations and not knowing what would happen next. I presently saw a sign that advertised a nearby gas station and decided that that was a great place to stock up on supplies. ...maybe. So I left the main highway to where the gas station was and I don't know what I was expecting --the quietness was a bit unnerving to be honest and I kept imagining a zombie attack. But since none were forth coming [because fallout doesn't cause superpowers or animated death but cancer and superdeath. That's it], I went ahead and entered the station. The scratch and win tickets jumped out at me -I didn't seek them out or anything -so I went ahead and took one for the hell of it; scratched it and was disappointed I didn't win anything. Then I giggled hysterically and thought, 'how unlucky I am.' I then scanned the aisles of...unhealthy goods since they tend to not be so bad even during such horrible circumstances [artificial foods outlast organic... sad. No social commentary here]. I sorely missed full course meals and while lamenting, took some non perishable snacks, some beef jerky [yummy], and tissues and more water [surprisingly these were untouched...] and toiletries. Meandering towards the 'I or perhaps some future persons I may meet need distractions or at the very last resort least, rough toilet paper' section, were some newspapers and magazines. I decided to find somewhere to sit and read since I was in no particular hurry -and scanning over the magazines I [detected] popular culture, technology, those of masculine privilege and some tabloid fodder but ultimately chose a puzzle book. Well, two -one for the moment and one for the road -that radiant road of literal-metaphorical symbolic journeys. Afterall, I needed to ensure my writing reading and thinking were intact from having nothing to challenge me all that time.