Everything's a Resource

Detritus from disintegrating stockpiles squelched underfoot – sound blending with the drag of her husband’s mutilated leg.

Everything’s a resource.

His maddening End-Time lectures - just justifications for isolation and hoarding.

They paused along the worn path, checking traps (empty), stomachs growling.

They stopped at the greenhouse. His trembling chained hands turned spigots on blessedly full rain barrels. Salvation for dying plants.

But not themselves.

She sliced off his ear, ignoring his tongueless shrieks as she bit into the flesh.

Not her preferred nourishment, but he was the one who taught her.

It’s always about survival.