The Prepper

There are a lot of cars on the road. All empty. Some of the doors are hanging open. It's eerily quiet. No birdsong, even. Just wind in the branches.

The three huddle in the bottom of the pit, eye-whites stark against the grime on their faces. Heavy footfalls approach. One person, booted. A measured pace, unhurried. Unafraid.

The nose of a rifle appears. The man flinches away. The woman clutches the child, turning to present her own back. At last a hard, craggy face squints down at them. The gun cocks.

"Wait! Please!"

She shoves the child at the man beside her and turns, ripping the ragged fabric covering her chest.

"What will a mother not do, to buy time for her child?"

The thought is plain on his face. Might as well.

He helps her up and out, saying, "Easy, miss. Wouldn't want this going off by accident." The gun wobbles, pointing at the child.

The man in the pit, notably, has not shielded the youngster the way the mother did.

"Please," she breathes, leaning close to the weathered, stubbly face, "Not in front of my child. That's all I ask. I'll even struggle, if you want."

He nudges her with his weapon towards the house. The huge house that he rattles around in by himself.

"How long have you been alone?" She lets her breast nudge his arm. He doesn't respond. Her eyes rake over the rows of fruits, vegetables and herbs. "It must be ever such a lot of work for one man."

"When I want that mouth open," he says, "I'll tell you."

He can't unhear it the seed she managed to plant in his mind. Enough to keep her alive until she can get a knife up under his ribs.

"You were right," she told him, hanging him in the cold room alongside the game he'd hunted. "Not to trust anyone."

They've struck lucky. There are a lot of supplies here. He was a conspiracy nut, convinced there was going to be a new world order, and nigh on self sufficient.

The other man she keeps. He can be useful. As she noted on arrival, it's a lot for one person.

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Word count excluding note: 366

Submitted on Sunday 21st July at 15.10

*Very Quick Author's Note*

First of all, and most importantly: thank you so much for reading my story! The ha'penny that Vocal will toss in my hat for your eyeballs landing on this humble piece will be well-spent.

If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!

A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 203 day streak since 1st January.

Please do consider lending your support to the other creators who are also on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They are putting out excellent content every day!

Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo

Please do leave me a comment. I try to reciprocate as many as I can. Leaving a comment makes that easier.

The story behind the story: I wanted to do a kind of Walking Dead meets The Hills Have Eyes story.

Thank you!

Thank you again, most sincerely. Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed!

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Edited to fix formatting.