The Survivors: Book One

John sighed again. He would insist, something he didn't usually do, and they would leave shortly, in the next few days. He wouldn't stop until he found someone to look after his sweet, gentle mate. She would never last out in this hard, new World alone.

Glancing away from a missed ornament - a gaudy, grinning reindeer lying under the couch - Anne tied the last knot of string on the dark brown blanket, trying not to frown as she began to put away the knitting supplies.

She didn't look at her husband - didn't need to see him to know he was in pain, and gunny-sacking to keep her from finding out...again. He could try to distract her with talk of kids all he wanted, she did feel a bit of regret that she had never been able to bear him a son, hadn't wanted to take one in that wasn't theirs, but it didn't keep her sharp eyes from noticing things. Something was wrong.

His eating and sleeping habits had changed drastically, and she had seen the empty pill bottles in the trash. He was protecting her from it, like he always did with the bad things, and while she would do what he wanted and pretend she had no clue, she knew what she knew. He was sick and looking for a place to leave her.

He wanted to be alone when he died, had said it many times, claiming it would hurt too much to say goodbye, and while she would do anything for him, she simply couldn't do that. Leaving him alone to die would be a betrayal of their life together, and now, after all that had happened, any betrayal of life was wrong. When they went, it would be together.

Nearly a week later

"Go faster, John! Faster!"

"Hold on!"

The horrified Doctor swung the wagon onto the dark woods that lined the road and killed the engine a few yards in, glad for the heavy fog and cover of night.

"Get down! Low as you can!"

The elderly couple shoved themselves into the floorboard as best they could. The hurting man stifled a groan at the cramped position, glasses sliding from his face as the engines grew closer.

Pop-Pop!

Sscreeechhh!

Headlights flashed their way and they tried to get lower, the gunshots and engines upon them as the storm rolled overhead.

"I love you, Johnnie. Have since we was kids."

A cold hand locked onto his hairy wrist through the sleeve of his plaid shirt, and John covered it with his own shaking fingers, afraid he might wet himself despite all his efforts not to.