Vita crept over to the two-story house next door that had been spared the damage done by the raging storms. She wanted to check on the old widow, Mrs. Sanchez. Long, wild grasses had sprung up throughout the yards and concealed tripping hazards: crumbled bricks, holes, and corpses. She couldn't fathom how this vegetation thrived. 

Vita travelled across the yard with ease today, already knowing the route and its challenges. Side step the crumbled flowerbed and avoid the three lifeless ravens splayed on the ground. She tried to peek through the window's purple curtains to see if the woman was napping again, but her view was obscured.

Mrs. Sanchez's mystery illness had rapidly progressed the past two days. Vita's post-disaster group, Gunnar and Rob, took full advantage of the hoarder's altered mental state to build up their own reserves. The elder's kitchen and basement boasted rows of non-perishable cans, chips, drinks, and everything they really wanted. The thought of stealing from a dying woman didn't sit well with Vita, but as another wave of nausea stopped her in her tracks, she knew not much went down smoothly in this cruel new world.

She had played the decoy and sat through afternoon teas, listening to Mrs. Sanchez's disjointed stories and hallucinations. The woman's voice had this hoarse quality to it: smokers' trait without the habit. Rob figured that out after he raided the drawers. His temper flared; smashed walls and dishes covered the floor. The steeped tea concoctions, made from whatever was lying around the kitchen or garden, were likely candidates for Mrs. Sanchez's sickness. Fortunately, Vita could spit the liquid back into the dingy mugs when the woman stared off into space or at the unseen creatures that occupied it.

Yesterday, boils had sprung up on the woman's face and obscured her gentle wrinkles for the first time. They were about the size of a nickel. Rob and Gunnar wouldn't come for today's visit. They claimed it wasn't worth the risk and denied Vita's accusations of fear. Young men like themselves feared nothing, apparently. Guilt gnawed away at her conscience, from her unwavering nausea to her racing mind. Vita summoned up the courage to go and check on the woman's condition. At least that would make her feel like a half-decent human being.

"Mrs. Sanchez," Vita called and knocked on the door.

Silence. 

Repeating the action yielded the same result.

Vita shimmied the door open in case the woman needed some help. Stacks of shoes and magazines made the door hard to budge, but she squeezed though. The floorboards creaked as she walked through the aged entryway and toward the living room. A pungent smell overtook the typical mothball scent. Her nose wrinkled.

Peeling floral wallpaper distracted her at first until a snarl came from near the couch. That couldn't be human. Vita peered closer. On the hardwood floor, Mrs. Sanchez's body lay stiff. Her eyes bulged like someone had injected them with fluid while her hands were fixed in a clawed position, perhaps to fight off an invisible assailant. Her skin was littered with large scarlet bumps the size of golf-balls. Luckily, none in sight had broken open or begun to pus.

Dark beady eyes belonging to a mangy four-legged beast stared menacingly at Vita. She had interrupted the dog's feast. By the look of its protruding gut, it likely wasn't the first of the day. Its jaws twitched. Low growls filled the room. Yellow incisors glistened in the bright afternoon sun, streaming through the curtains. Vita closed her eyes and wished the owner of the full set of teeth was as lacking in life as Mrs. Sanchez.

Vita took a deep calming breath and stepped back. She kept her eyes on the dog and inched away from the scene until she collided with a warm barrier. Someone thrust a hand over her mouth before she could scream. Tears flew from her widened eyes, and she slowly turned. Maybe Mrs. Sanchez hadn't been hallucinating after all.

"It's alright," Rob whispered. "Let's get out of here." He dropped his hand, not before wiping away a couple of her tears.

"Jeez! You scared me Rob!"

A metallic crash came from the kitchen. Who else was here? The canine's head jerked up from chewing on the body.

"Is that Gunnar?" she asked. Rob nodded. "Why are you here?"

"We couldn't leave you to get possibly attacked, could we?" Rob asked and wrapped his arms around her waist. His lips shot hot air past her ear. "Who would entertain me then?"

Vita bit her lip and flinched slightly as he began to nibble on her earlobe. She closed her eyes, but the image of Mrs. Sanchez's bloated corpse, covered in boils, invaded her escape from Rob. Her stomach turned and her whole body went ice cold. Her head felt light for a brief moment. She tore away Rob's hands and ran to a corner of the staircase to lose the rest of her lunch. Her body shook like a trembling flower with each heave.

 "That don't count as foreplay, sweetie."

If holding her greasy blonde hair out of her face didn't take priority, she would have flipped him the bird. He might have been a good form of protection in these times, but it didn't mean she had to like the bullshit that came out of his mouth.

"Jesus, she should come with a warning label," Gunnar said as he came into the foyer.

If there was anyone else who could push her buttons, it was that kid. His gangly arms bore bags of the few things they hadn't yet taken from the basement. She had always known he was a shady character in high school, but her friend hadn't listened and it had cost the girl everything. Vita was stuck here with the aftermath.

"Might wanna take a night off with her. Make sure ya don't catch nothing."

"Vita's just got a weak stomach."

He went over to her crumpled form on the ground and rubbed her back gently. She wouldn't tell him, but she needed these moments to stay sane. One person actually caring for another. It helped her come to terms with all the acts he 'suggested' she perform. An eye for an eye, a hand for a hand.

"It'll pass, babe. You'll be fine real soon."

The dog lost interest in Mrs. Sanchez. Its mouth brimmed with foam and it advanced toward them with great speed.

"Time to go," Rob said. He pulled Vita to her feet as they headed for the exit. Gunnar was just behind and slammed the door before the mutt could pursue them. "I think it's time we upgraded our living situation, don't you?"

She wiped the bile off her chin with her stained blue sleeve. Her small hands tugged at the bottom of the shirt, and she ran with the guys. She wished she had worn something that covered her gut the day that everything had changed. No one thought they'd see midnight, which made the fishnets seem like an equally good idea in her mind. Now, she was an image from just a bad nineties music video, not like she had even lived through the decade to give that statement any value. She kept the garments on to keep Rob and his wandering eyes around. She'd die on her own. Every passing day, she wondered if he wanted to give up on their strange situation. He probably only stuck around because she decided she wasn't going to die a virgin all those weeks ago. 

* * * * *

With their collection of stolen goods, the three teens ran through back alleys of the downtown streets. Rob slowed when he saw his blonde prize couldn't keep the pace. The sounds of retching and hurling carried through the alleyway over the pitter-patter of the cool rain. The clouds had turned on them in minutes, almost from the moment they left Mrs. Sanchez's place. Rob placed a hand on Gunnar's shoulder, and their eyes met. Gunnar shook his head and narrowed his eyes at the little blonde hunched over, one hand pressed up against the wall.

"We're going to get killed dragging her diseased body around; y'know that right?" Gunnar said.

"She ain't slowing us down too much," Rob said and folded his arms in front of his chest.

Coughing mixed into the refrain of splattering body fluids. Gunnar flicked his eyes over to the girl several times, clearing his throat each time. Rob ignored his grievances, tucked himself under an eave and and lit up a joint. He'd never enjoyed Gunnar's jumpiness; it just made the kid weak.

"Relax, Gun. No one's going to attack us."

Gunnar's foot tapped louder than the rain, and Rob chuckled at how tense his friend's face muscles had become. "Y'don't know that. Gotta keep movin' before the storm comes."

"'Fraid of a little rain?"

"More like the god-damned tornadoes. When did those start coming so often?"

"Haven't seen one in a week," Rob replied.

His eyes flickered over to Vita. If she hadn't been gagging and heaving so much he could have actually enjoyed the sight of her bent down almost on all fours at this point. Maybe later. He saved her from that ragged mutt earlier even when he told her that wouldn't. It had to count for something.

"You almost done over there, sweetheart?"

He wasn't in a rush but Gunnar was looking extra jumpy.

Vita slowly pushed herself to a kneeling position and paused. What now? Did she expect him to come to her side every single time? He stood his ground and after a minute she came back over without his reassurance. She wouldn't last long without him; he was sure of it. Her blue eyes closed, and the dark bags underneath gleamed like coal. She'd be lucky if she lasted another week or two.

"It'll pass. I'm sure," Vita said, not convincing any of them.

"It better," Gunner muttered. "We don't need one more thing to fight against." He folded his arms and leaned back against the cold brick wall.

Rob watched the exchange with mild interest. With the lack of electricity, these two provided the only entertainment lately with their Jerry Springer style battles. Gunnar just needed a good lay and when that fiery-haired chick of his disappeared, his shot went out the window. As much as Rob hated sharing, the thought of getting his buddy back to a calmer state made passing him a slice of Vita's talents appealing.  

"Why are you worried about fighting? You've had no problem with it so far. It's been almost too easy for you," Vita said.

Gunnar's eyes, laced with fury, met hers and the silent battle began. Rob's smirk grew.

"Don'cha go looking at me like some kinda psycho. I do what I have to, nothing more." He turned on his heel and took off towards the outskirts of town.

Vita didn't move a muscle and her eyes remained narrowed on his departing form. She would likely stay here all night if it meant avoiding Gunnar. To avoid that, Rob placed his hand on her lower back and urged her forward. His hand met with resistance.

"C'mon we gotta follow Gun. Just cuz you don't like him, don't mean he's not worth having around. The kid's useful, believe me."

"I have no doubts. I saw the way he took out that guy the other night."

"That guy was coming after our food and you."

"Why would he come after me?"

Rob raised an eyebrow and looked down from her low cut crop-top to her long, thin legs. For guys who hadn't seen a woman in almost three weeks, she wasn't too bad a sight, grunge aside.

Vita crossed her arms over her subtle cleavage. "So Gunnar was protecting my honor or something?"

 Rob laughed. "Gun doesn't care about that. He was just doing what I asked him to. Now come on, we have to find a place to stay before the storms hit."

Once they had found a new home, Rob needed a fix. He wasn't addicted; it was stupid to think he could be addicted to pot. It just helped him think clearer and being sober had lost its appeal. He met up with Xavier, a douche bag who could still get his hands on weed after all this shit had gone down. Rob didn't care about his source enough to ask why this tool could score more than canned goods.

"Robbie! My brotha' ! What's happening?"

"Not much man, you got the stuff?"

"I've got just what you need," Xavier said with a smile, pulling a joint out of his flannel shirt pocket.

Rob shook his head. "How is it that the world is so far gone and you're still rolling this shit like a fucking boss?" He had to grease the man-child up a bit if he wanted the good stuff.

Xavier just laughed, about an octave higher than Rob. He drew out a lighter and took care to ignite the end. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as if he were about to pray or something. He opened them back up and handed the joint to Rob.

"So," Xavier said and let the smoke slowly leave his mouth. "I hear you've gotten yourself a nice piece of ass."

"What's it to you?" Rob said, bored and curious as to how he knew this.

"Nothing man, just mad props for pulling that off. Bet she was tighter than my Gran's pants at thanksgiving."

"Don't be a cunt."

"If I had something like that around, I wouldn't be standing here getting blazed." Xavier watched Rob take another long greedy hit.

"Good thing you were never in sales."

Xavier laughed again, reaching back for the joint that Rob had taken a couple drags on. "Jus' tryin' to be useful. You gotta be useful or ballsy to survive out there, and I sure as shit ain't a fighter."

Rob left with a small baggie in his back pocket. His chick was upchucking any food that came near her anyways, so the six cans of baked beans weren't really a loss. They would just end up regurgitated soon anyway.

Gunnar was probably right about cutting their losses and leaving her on her own. But right now, the three of them had a safe place to stay, and she didn't slow them down too much. Plus when she wasn't tossing up their food supply, she showed her appreciation in all of his favourite ways. Was he an asshole? Probably, but there was nothing to keep him from acting otherwise.