The Survivors: Book One

She already missed the fire, shivering and hating the dark, but she just wasn't up to all the effort required to relight it. For now, she had a big stack of blankets and a couple of flashlights nearby, and that would have to be enough.

Leg starting to scream, Sam took another half syringe of morphine, eyes closing in bliss, and she jerked the covers over herself with careless hands, head swimming. She would rest a while and then she'd be okay. She told herself that repeatedly, needing the comfort now that loneliness had caught up with her on her solitary journey.

Sam had finally come to hate the constant silence that enveloped the world now, longed to hear a compassionate voice. She needed to be with people again and as soon as she was able, she would be on her way to Cheyenne. Even if the people at the base were gone, there was an EPA approved weather shelter there that few knew of. She would check it out and stock it for the winter, make it her hideout.

It would be with a heavy heart. She couldn't help but hope there would already be other survivors there, but knew it was too much to ask. Likely, there would be only more pain and death.