The winter passed slowly. For entertainment they played cards, board games and, once a week, they fired up the generator and watched a movie. Oddly enough, flicks like Mad Max and Waterworld became favorites. They would laugh at the primitive conditions those heroes lived in and pretended to thank their lucky stars. But in the dark of night alone in her bed, Hannah cried. How she wished she’d left with Brody and enjoyed a few more months of passion and happiness before everything ended.

Spring arrived, the world waking refreshed and full of signs of life, plant life, that is. The roads eventually cleared of the snow and ice. Hannah prepped herself for some new scavenging trips. She installed a hitch on the Jeep and, using a trailer a neighbor no longer needed, she drove to the next township.

Nervous, she’d kept the gun in her lap the whole time, her eyes darting and searching the derelict buildings. She only saw stray cats and dogs. Apparently the deadly flu had not affected the animals. She briefly wondered if they’d ever get desperate enough for meat that they’d eat cat or dog like some overseas countries did.

She shuddered. Not while she had some chickens she wouldn’t. If she had any cowgirl skills, they could have beef. Cows now roamed the fields while horses whinnied as they galloped, their manes flowing behind them. If the animals talked, it would be like living in George Orwell’s Animal Farm.

Pulling up in front of the Wal-Mart, her one-stop shop for all the supplies they’d need, she hopped out and initially tucked the gun in her waistband, but the heavy, cold metal made her uncomfortable and kept sliding down. Uncle Fred is too paranoid. She opened the glove box and shoved the weapon in.