𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗘𝗗𝗘𝗡 - 𝘁𝘄𝗱

𝟬𝟬𝟭: 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗪𝗕𝗢𝗬 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗗𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗞

According to the Little Tikes Survival Guide by Justin H. Bradley, a person can survive for three minutes without oxygen, three days without water and three weeks without food. Justin H. Bradley does not, however, specify how long a little girl can survive in the woods, by herself, with one dog, seven granola bars and no sister.

Tiger Mallory isn't all that sure, but she thinks it is probably about another week. If she gets lucky.

Resting a dirty hand on the dog in her lap, she looks out of the window into the hot Georgia forest and dreams of a miracle.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

About seven weeks ago, the world ended.

Two weeks after that, Tiger's sister disappeared.

She left in the night. Sudden. Unexpected. Like blinking. One minute, she was there; sitting in the backseat of their car and putting Tiger to sleep, and the next, she was gone. An empty seat in the front, her running sneakers gone, and a note left on the dashboard.

Tiger didn't read the note at first. She thought her sister would come back. Jackie Mallory was a reliable person. She was kind, nervous, protective of her little sister like she was expecting somebody to snatch her away from her at any moment. Since the apocalypse, it had gotten worse. She'd been losing sleep, starving herself in order to feed Tiger. She would never just leave her alone like that, right?

Wrong.

Tiger waited. She wasn't a patient child but she made herself so. She sat in that car, windows up and doors open, feeding their dog pieces of beef jerky as she watched the trees. Waiting for Jackie to weave her way back through them, smiling, offering some sort of perfectly logical excuse to her absence. Because Jackie wouldn't just go. Why would she go?

After a week, Tiger gives up on the patient act. She takes the note from the dashboard, sun-bleached and hot, and balls it up in her fist, still unread. Throws it for the dog to catch, flattens it under her shoe. Boots – the lean Alsatian keeping her company – stares at her with doleful eyes. Asking the same question she is.

But Jackie does not come back.

Tiger doesn't want to think she's dead. That would be admitting defeat; both for herself and her sister. After all, they've already lost everything else. Their house had gone up in flames the day everything fell apart, and their dad – Jay, a strong, silent type – had been working deep in the city when the government had bombed it to dust.

Jackie's demise will mean certain death for Tiger. After all, she's already halfway there. Ribs poking angrily against her skin, her whole body smeared with dirt, and recently, a wide cut on her forehead has started smarting angry, yellowish pus. Sure, Tiger doesn't have that stupid little survival guide anymore, but she can remember the bits her father read to her.

Infection is a killer. And, even if that doesn't get her, the lack of water certainly will.

So, the day the little girl comes running through her woods, Tiger is waiting for death. Curled up in the back of her car, whispering to Boots, trying to make half a granola bar last until tomorrow. She doesn't really know why she gets up to chase the kid. Maybe some sort of last-resort survival instinct. Tackle her to the ground, take her things, make it another week. Either way, Tiger isn't thinking straight. She just sees an opportunity and takes it.

So, when the girl in the blue shirt goes running past her car, Tiger gets up and bolts.