Just you & me in a post-apocalyptic wasteland

You’d think being the last two people left on earth would draw you closer to someone, but these days Bill couldn't remember the last time they had talked.

It had been six years since the end of the world had come, and four since they had last seen another human being alive. Plenty of dead, oh the dead were never far away, but never anyone else still living. This was life now, intimate but alone. Just two people living together in a bunker when the world around them had long since been obliterated.

It would have been too easy for them to give up and let the suffocating dust take over, but they had vowed back then to never throw in the towel, and they always said as long as they had each other everything would be OK. Truth be told this was getting tougher for Bill, not that he would ever admit it to Lucy. She had withdrawn herself from really doing anything these days, whereas he kept himself busy, scavenging for food, scavenging for petrol, always scavenging, day after day. They used to think about travelling West towards the coast but it never came to fruition. Each day just wasn’t quite right to leave the relative comfort (context definitely dependent) of the bunker they had luckily stumbled upon all those years ago. It was too dangerous outside, Bill had never wanted to expose Lucy to what was on the outside and she had not seen daylight in a long time. Besides, the dead ones were out there, and the dead ones were always hungry. Ravenous would be a more accurate synonym if you ever took the time to watch them eat, but why would anyone be stupid enough to do that? It hadn’t taken Bill long to understand this. Flight not fight. Fleeing, hiding, keeping to the shadows was always the number one rule to staying alive in this bleak reality the couple found themselves in. No, instead of entertaining ideas of seeing the sea again, they had slowly taken the time to spruce up the bunker with all kinds of things that Bill had looted from the neighbours. Little reminders of a better time that were going to be missed by no one. No Lucy just wiled away each day curled up in her chair, her favourite novel on the armrest (God bless the written word!), waiting, always waiting.

He stumbled as he entered the bunker through the wrought iron door that separated their humble home from the nightmares of the outside. He threw his body against it and pulled down the iron bar as it shut, locking it tight. He was breathing heavily, these runs were getting tougher and longer and harder on his ageing body. He pulled down the shawl that protected his face from the dust to catch his breath better, and it took everything from within for him not to cough. Resting his head against the door he concentrated hard on regulating his breathing again and listened intently to what was on the other side. One, two, three... he counted slowly in his head, knowing that once he got to sixty they were probably safe and that he had once again managed to find his way home undetected. His whole body relaxed when he heard nothing.

“I’m home,” he muttered as he pulled off his backpack and placed it carefully on the floor. He stuck his jacket on the coat rack that stood by the door and strode across to a small kitchen where a map of the local area was pinned to the wall. Bill picked up the black marker that was attached to the map by some string and placed a big cross over what looked like a grassy open area labelled ‘Gleeson Park’. It was the third cross he’d placed this month, and local safe zones were fast becoming few and far between.

“Close one today,” he hollered towards where his wife sat in the living area. “Took the usual route past Grant’s Shack, you know past the hotel way. Streets were quiet up there, just dusty, as per.” He strode across and picked up his bag, before returning to the kitchen area. He unzipped the zipper and began to place tins of food into one of the cupboards. Not many, this was by no means the most successful run he had been on, but at least he was still finding enough tins of food to survive on, and it usually tasted alright for being years out of date. Bill glanced towards Lucy, who didn’t say anything but was smiling back at him in her habitual way. He continued his tale.

“Anyway I rounded the corner at Shackleton Square and I nearly ran headfirst into a group of dead ones, maybe four or five. Luckily they had their backs to me as they were too busy rummaging around in some rubble, thought that maybe we had another wild dog in the area or something, couldn’t say for sure. Well, I managed to swing back around the corner without giving the game away, so I crossed to the other side of the street and went around and into the park instead. Figured I’d loop around the long way and check out the pharmacy again. Got to the open green in the park and would you believe it? Lucy, a deer no less, a bloody deer, just standing there, minding its own business and all. Beautiful creature, never thought I’d see one again in my life! Well you know I haven’t been taking the bow out lately, not been anything worth hunting, so boy did I curse myself when I saw it. And then I don’t know if it heard me or could see me or whatever, but it got spooked and started to bolt.” He opened the bottle of murky water that he had taken out of his bag and poured it into a pan before placing it on the stove. He began to heat it up. He made a mental note they would need some petrol soon for the generator that kept the bunker running. He’d try to get more next time out.

“The deer shot across the field and at one point it was heading right for me. So I hung back near the hedgerow and crossed my fingers it wouldn’t see me. A long shot sure but you never know. Anyway, it didn’t change course, was getting closer and closer. Can’t have been more than say twenty metres away then Bang!” He slammed his hands down on the kitchen counter. “This huge winged beast swooped down from nowhere and scooped the deer up in its talons. No word of a lie!” He glanced at Lucy who continued to stare back. “Only got to catch a glimpse of it for a second before it flew over the tree line but I’m telling you it was hideous. Kinda reminded me of those terror-whatevers from the dinosaur movies we used to watch. Big curved beak. But those talons man. The way they just sunk into that deer, like a knife through butter. Think I’ll remember the wail of that deer for the rest of my days.”

Bill took two mugs down off the shelf and popped in a spoonful of coffee into each, but no milk. He hadn’t tasted milk in a long, long time. He picked the pan up off the stove and poured water into each, giving them both a stir before throwing the spoon into the sink where a few other pots and pans lay waiting to be cleaned. He strode into the living area where his wife sat and placed the mug down carefully on the table next to her. Glancing at the copy of To Kill a Mockingbird that lay open to her side.

“How many times have you read that now dear?” he asked. “I mean it must be about —”

There was an almighty crash at the door. Bill froze. He held his breath, had he been too loud? The dead ones never came this close to their home, ever. A few seconds passed before another thud into the door echoed around the bunker. Then another, and another. Bill noticed for the first time the door begin to buckle, and he started to realise they could be in some real trouble. Had he been too careless on today’s run? He desperately retraced the day's steps in his head, and he took Lucy’s hand into his and squeezed it tight. He closed his eyes and hoped that the banging would just stop if he wished it so. But it didn’t, it got louder and faster and a deep growl made Bill whimper in fear as he was rooted to the spot, hand in hand with his beloved. A warm feeling spread between his legs as he began to shake uncontrollably. Please not like this.

He involuntarily pulled the skeletal arm of his wife out of its socket as the dead one burst through the door and into the bunker. The dark red eyes of the monstrosity staring in the direction of Bill and Lucy, hunger on its mind. He let go of the lifeless arm and let it drop to the floor. The creature continued to shuffle towards him. It had no reason to rush, its prey was cornered. Bill noticed pools of drool spill out the sides of the beast’s mouth in anticipation of the meal to come, and the stench of decay was overpowering. He closed his eyes tightly as his last seconds ticked wistfully by. At least, he thought, if nothing else, he would hear the voice of his wife again soon. It had been far too long.