A tentative bursts of bright light shone its way through the sky, tinting grey clouds a pale orange and signalling daybreak.
Her eyes opened slowly revealing a hollowness that surpassed her plain tired and burdened appearance. Horror, for her bare limbs were splashed with grime and the dried blood of a night's travesty, what linen clung to taut skin pulled against bones showed all blue and purple bruise of paths that gave way where the thorns cut; heaving a low sigh that light a man might hardly catch among the thick silences.
She could hardly move a muscle, each one screaming in pain to make such motion possible.
Then her gaze fell upon what had become of the known city, no more but a skeletal wasteland; just stacks of bones sitting in empty rooms or laying strewn across cracked streets, the stench of metallic death heavily laced within the air choked her.
One hand pressed into her stomach, she struggled to her feet. From somewhere inside her, a soft growl escaped, an unkind whisper that reinforced how ravenously empty she felt. She moved slowly and unsteadily across boones that had fused with the cracked concrete. Every body told a ghost story, some gripping at the ghosts of reminiscence past, others anchored to their wraith lives.
It was the click of the latch opening that made her pause, and as she jerked toward the direction it was from excitedly, all those hopes came crashing to a sobering reality-twisted: a figure unmistakable with a lump of blood pooling beneath him and lying limp on his side. Beside the chair was a broken water bottle, its murky insides oozed into the ground.
She spiralled onto her knees and, without any ceremony, started to drink the liquid. On spilling it on the grainy ground which tried to sand-paper her tongue, she immediately lapped it up. It washed a wave of nausea through her, but she swallowed it down, pushing the nasty cracker. As the darkness would fall, a few drops of light bestowed upon her body its faded grey.
Further ahead, heavier was the destruction. Among the ruins of a destroyed school, she found children-little bodies contorted, distorted. Her empty eyes stuck on them as her lips were pursed tightly over the storm brewing inside, threatening to burst. A flush of red flashed in her eyes, a touch of sadness concealed in layers of indifference. She fell to her knees for but a moment, not in mourning, but as if she was searching for something amidst the ruin.
She came to the remains of a park overgrown with decay and began digging. First with the broken remains of wooden planks and rusted steel, the ground was unforgiving. Tiring, she flung the tools aside and dug her bare hands into the dirt. The coarse soil bit into her palms, drawing blood, yet she dug on.
Every move she made seemed to feed some unrelenting drive, an almost animal urge to uncover whatever was beneath.
Finally, her fingers closed on something solid-a box of wood, its surface worn but otherwise intact. Her fingers traced the outlines with trembling hands, peering to make out the detailed carvings which traveled along the lid.
The lock was still there, but she pushed it into her tattered bag; for the first time, the slightest glimmer of purpose shone through her worn face.
As dusk fell, she found herself at what seemed to be an abandoned bunker. The metal doors hung awry, warped; she could enter the dark interior. On the walls, the shadows writhed, their shapes twisting in the faint, waning light of day. The air inside was thick and stale, with the caustic tinge of decay. Bodies were flung haphazard throughout: some with gunfire etched into them, some with deep gashes across their bodies, others slobbering out froths of foam from their mouths.
She walked amongst them with practiced indifference, her steps silent but deliberate. Her eyes wavered, however, when she fell upon the figure clutching a bundle-lifeless infant clutched tightly to its chest.
A little ways off from this lay another body-one riddled with bullet holes, casings scattered in the ground, and what appeared to be the remains of moldy bread crumbled beside it.
Her fingers had snatched the bread almost of their own accord. She devoured the bread in desperate, hurrying bites, ignoring clumps of mold that clung to its surface. Each chew was a fight against revulsion, her throat clenching with every swallow, but hunger overcame that.
When finally the last crumb was gone, she sank down onto the cold floor and let her body curl in upon itself as exhaustion swept over her.