43

July 22, 2012

The Gathering is cold and silent as you consume a meager meal of a mixed fruit cup and canned sardines, the latter being only barely rotten. You cut away the spoiled areas of the fish and swallow the rest without chewing. The pungent smell of the meal ends with a wave of nausea, and though you feel you may vomit, you stifle it down so as not to waste the food. Luckily, recent rainstorms have replenished some of your water supply, so you wash away the taste with some fresh water.

The heavy clomp of footsteps rings through the Sanctuary hall, and Uncle Lou appears at the archway. A hunting rifle in hand, he lays it over a counter and checks out other canned and preserved foods on the shelves.

"Care for some company?" he asks.