Project Annihilation

1. A Change of Spirits

I opened my eyes with trepidation, like every morning.

I'd had a great dream - one where I was running through a field of barley back at my aunt's farm. I'd felt free as I stumbled through the golden crops. I'd heard her calling my name. Like every dream I had, it quickly turned into a nightmare when I traced the source of her shrill voice and found her screaming in a pool of her own scarlet blood. The rotting body had looked up from its meal, its lifeless eyes displaying little to no emotion as its wasted mouth dripped with the victory blood of my aunt.

"You slept like a log," Logan said from beside me.

"I wish you'd have woken me," I said sleepily as I rolled over onto my side to face him.

In the dim morning light, his eyes were dark and shallow. "Did you have another bad dream?"

I nodded solemnly as I propped myself up on my elbows and tied my lank hair into a bun.

"I wish I could stop them."

He tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ears. "I wish I could stop them for you, love."

I leaned up and kissed his jawline gently, my lips catching in his rough, dark stubble.

A rumbling stomach signaled breakfast, and so I stood up and padded across the pale carpet of the RV towards the cupboards adorning the walls. I opened them individually, each time becoming a little more disheartened at their empty contents.

Eventually, I found two cans of dried fruit and held them up towards Logan with a satisfied smile.

"Breakfast for two?" I asked.

He flashed me a reassuring smile before I cracked a pen-knife into the tin cans to prise them open. We sat in a comfortable silence, digging our grubby hands into the dried fruit like starving children and savouring every last bite, simply because we wouldn't be entirely sure when our next meal would be.

"We should head out soon. We're running low on supplies."

I nodded in reply. "As far as I can remember, I think there's a freeway a few miles south from here. We might have some luck there. Do we have enough gas to take the RV?" I asked.

He shook his head and I didn't need a response.

"On foot it is then," I mumbled to myself. "We should go now."

There was no use in burning daylight. As soon as the sun rose, it was a new day. Every hour, every minute - heck, even every second counted in this world.

I slipped my knife into my belt holder, securing it around the waistband of my denim jeans. Pulling on my combat boots, I reached for my leather jacket. The weather looked too unpredictable to risk it without one. I didn't want another incident like last time.

And so, we set off on the road.

The road was desolate, mirroring the forests surrounding it. The fir trees seemed to sway slightly as the wind passed nomadically across their leaves before leaving an empty silence in its place.

Logan gripped my hand. It was a reassuring feeling. It didn't matter how many times I ventured out on the road for supplies, the knots in my stomach didn't untie. Being with Logan loosened them a little.

We made our way south down the road for a few miles, like I had predicted. It wasn't long until we reached the junction for the freeway, connecting the country to the city. I hadn't used the freeway since I was a child; my aunt would drive me along here after I'd spent the summer with her back to my parent's apartment. I had always preferred the country but found it ironic now how camping it out in rural Georgia had me missing the clamor of my parent's city life back in Atlanta.