Left [Post-Apocalyptic Story]

CHAPTER 3: Moving On

Colin picked himself up, he was trembling and obviously in shock after the ordeal that had occurred minutes before. He wiped off all of the dirt off of his grey t-shirt and his ripped linen pants and walked over to the smothered fire. He struggled to walk as the position he was hiding in was terribly uncomfortable. He lifted up his jacket off the fire and brushed the ash off, the fire had left a hole, but this was nothing compared to the other many holes that covered the old piece of clothing.
He started to make the surrounding area look as untouched as possible, like nothing had ever happened, but this was difficult due to the amount of blood and flesh scattering the area, the smell was retched and the sight was unbearable.
Colin put his now charred jacket over his mouth, trying to avoid being sick or smelling the blood, he pulled as many leaves and sticks as he could off surrounding trees to cover up the scene.

Colin's reason for cleaning up was justified, although humans were a rare encounter, they were still around, and most humans would take any chance they can to get a bit of action for the possibility of a small reward. The screaming of the men was loud, and could be heard from miles away. As the ordeal was happening, there could be another group headed towards Colin and they could arrive at any moment.

Colin didn't want to take any chances, he packed up and tried to make the area as seem less as possible before heading back out, not knowing where he was headed, or what he would find next.