Astral Wolves

The End - Miley

Miley drove down the streets of what had once been a town in Northern Idaho, but was now referred to as Epicenter by the few surviving locals. This was the area in which the disaster first started.

Miley had just raided the closest supermarket that hadn't already been ransacked by her little gang of survivors, a group of five, ranging in age from thirteen to twenty. All of them were immune to KH-7B, and none of them knew why. That was why they were the only ones left (as far as they knew) alive after the virus had exterminated the global population.

Only being fourteen, she shouldn't have been able to drive. But things needed to be done, so she had taught herself how to drive everything from cars to forklifts. Right now she was driving a decrepit old pickup truck, her flyaway golden hair messily done up in a short braid. She was listening to a battered CD that she has found when she scavenged her home after her parents were taken by the virus. She kept the radio on, even though it was all just static at this point, hoping for news about some other survivors.

As she drove by what once had been a quiet Idaho town, she noticed for the first time just how run down the buildings lining the streets were beginning to look after not being maintained for over a year. They were starting to crumble. Some of them were now just large death traps, having been infested with rats and roaches. Due to this, the little gang slept outside now with a stash of knives to fight off any pests trying to steal their food. Miley had already killed too many mice to count, and she had begun to enjoy their flavor. One could only eat stale crackers for so long before wanting fresh meat. All the meat and produce at the grocery stores had long since molded, since the power plants had shut down months ago from disrepair. That meant no electricity, which meant they had to rely on fire to cook the meat.

A scream pierced the air. Triton again. Everyone else wanted to kill him and eat him, but Miley had intervened. She stopped the truck, jumped out, and ran to the source of the noise, switchblade in hand. Triton was surrounded by six rats. Rolling her eyes, Miley took the knife and finished them off in about three seconds flat. Triton looked relieved, and hastened to pick up the dead rodents and stashed them in his pocket. In unison, the pair turned and climbed into the truck in silence. 

"Thanks for saving me back there. I didn't know what I would have done if you hadn't jumped in." Triton said after a few minutes of driving. He ruffled his dyed-blue hair and sat back. Triton was one of the oldest of their little gang, but afraid of everything, and he couldn't handle a tense moment. That's why the other's usually forced him to stay back at base while they scrounged the area, so he wouldn't get into too much trouble. Miley remained silent, and turned up the CD player.

They drove on for ten more minutes, then pulled up at home base. "Get out." Her golden eyes gave him a death stare, and he nervously edged out the door of the vehicle. This was the third time she had "saved him" this week. She didn't understand why he constantly needed rides anyway. He was perfectly capable of hot-wiring a car for himself. She huffed at this indignity while she lugged boxes of stale crackers and cans of beans onto the food pile, under a canopy they had found and brought back.

She needed a walk.

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