Solitude. Dark, bleak, and encroaching, this word and idea plagues the minds of many in this god forsaken world. When was the last time humanity was able to gather without fear? Was this, perhaps, only achievable before this world was seized by the danger of coexisting?
Ever since a dreadful, and quite frankly, unfortunate development, humanity was forced to disperse. Those who didn't met an untimely end.
Just how were we able to figure out, before billions died, that it was the damn birds?
5 years later, a deep roar could be heard from the depths of a dark, wet, and desolate city.
A small, metal garage door was being lifted from the inside. If you could see through steel, you would see a figure struggling against its weight, pushing up from one side. Eventually, the garage door laid at a weird angle, resting on its rails, creaking slightly. An unassuming figure slipped from under the metal, having to crawl under to avoid disrupting the intricate balance of the door it had created.
This figure happened to be one of the few survivors of this disaster — named Corven, by his late parents. Corven was about 18, although he had lost track of time shortly after being separated from his parents during the beginning of the catastrophe. Although, not many people considered time valuable enough to keep track of anymore.
Without luck intervening and, seeming to have a special place in its heart for Corven, this young man would not have survived this far.
Corven wore dark, black jeans — once blue, but after living within the swamped city, the color had long since faded — and a green rain jacket, which fared better than his pants — aside from the deep scratch on the right sleeve, and dried blood disgracing the almost clean surface. He donned a small rucksack, whose straps were attached with an unstable grouping of knots made using small rope. On his waist laid a medium sized, leather knife sheath — although, it was empty.
His face wore an expression of.. happiness. Although, with the current state of the world, it was just a few muscles away from a usual blank face. However, as he got up from the floor, he walked over to a wall near the open garage door and sat down, his face turned into that of a grimace.
"Ahh, fuck...."
Corven moved forward a little, taking the rucksack off his back. He opened one of its smaller compartments, and took out a bandage. He lifted his arm, rolling up one of his sleeves towards his shoulder. The aforementioned scratch on his jacket, on closer look, had a nasty pooling of blood around its perimeter.
His bare arm did not look good, either. After rolling it up, almost his whole forearm was painted red from dried blood, and a deep gash running down from his elbow — a series of bite marks could also be seen on his arm, each followed by purple, bruised skin.
While he started to roll his arm up with the bandage, there were many thoughts going through his head.
'What the hell was a wolf doing in that building? Hell, I'm even more surprised I was able to pry that garage door off the ground enough to let me through..'
What Corven had just risked his life for, was just a simple unopened can of spam. He had gathered a few other trinkets as well, namely a pair of jumper cables. It wasn't his intention for this to be a dangerous endeavor, but his short period of thieving was cut short when he turned a corner and barely had enough time to shield his face with his right arm.
Out of the darkness, 2 pairs of yellow eyes emerged. One pair was already face to face with Corven, its eyes filled with bloodlust. Its jaws closed around Corven's arm, The host of the other pair stayed back, slowly starting to circle Corven.
Letting out a startled gasp, he widened his eyes as a seething pain ran through his arm. Although, his moment of absence was short lived as he gathered his thoughts and used his left arm to grab a knife from its sheath on his waist. Quickly plunging the decently sized bushcraft knife into the predators neck, its grip loosened with a whine as Corven kicked it off.
He stumbled backward and got up. Turning around, he started to run. He heard a pair of foot steps behind him. If not for the snaking alleys of the store, he would have undoubtably been caught by his assailant. However, it was not without him being a second to slow around a corner and receiving a long gash down his arm, caused by the second wolves claw.
Reaching a doorway, he used the opportunity to slam the door shut and lock it, which was, thankfully, still intact. Hearing a large being collide with the door, Corven shuddered at the thought of it breaking the door down. Nonetheless, even after 5 years of solitude, the door withstood the onslaught of the wolf.
Corven found himself in the storage bay of the store, which was completely shut off from the outside. Sighing, he walked over to the garage door and started trying to fit his fingertips under the large piece of metal.
This led to to where Corven is now, grimacing as he wrapped up his injuries with the small roll of bandages.