Chapter 1

The convenience store owner was a balding, middle-aged man. His filthy fingers slid across my face as he said to Raul Pratt, "Pay me two cans of meat, and you get her for three days."

Raul hesitated for three seconds. Seriously, I counted. And then he nodded. "Deal."

He took the box of canned meat without even looking at me. I watched his familiar back disappear behind the shutter door, while the sound of the owner undoing his belt echoed in my ears.

Then I realized that in the apocalypse, love was cheaper than canned meat.

I didn't cry or freak out.

When the owner came at me, I grabbed the fruit knife tucked into his waistband. The blade was dull, but I stabbed with everything I had.

I stabbed, twisted, yanked it out, and stabbed again. Warm blood sprayed all over my face. The smell made me gag.

He collapsed, eyes wide open, like a fish out of water.

I wiped the blood off my face, dug the car keys out of his pocket, and snagged a few food ration bars and a bottle of water from the shelves.

When I stepped outside, I saw Raul squatting at the street corner, opening a canned meat.

He looked up, saw me, and was stunned.

I smiled at him and raised the bloody knife, "Raul, this is what you owe me."

Then I turned, jumped into the beat-up van, and roared off into the zombie-infested streets.

In the rearview mirror, I saw he stood there, the can dropping from his hand and tumbling down the street, pushed by the wind, like our love, gone and blown away.

*****

The van ran out of gas at a gas station on the edge of town.

I ditched the van, slung my scavenged supplies over my back, and holed up in an abandoned industrial park. There were fewer zombies here. Guess they figured there wasn't much to eat in a place like this.

I found a relatively intact factory building, jammed a metal rod through the door to lock it tight.

Then I took stock of my supplies: five food ration bars, three bottles of water, a fruit knife, and a pack of ladies' cigarettes, as well as a lighter I took from the convenience store's cash register.

I didn't know how to smoke, but I sure knew how to light a fire.

I started a small fire, the orange flames flickering in the darkness like a weak heartbeat. Sitting by the fire, chewing on a food ration bar, I suddenly remembered that this time yesterday, Raul was roasting a bird for me.

He said, "Romy, once this disaster is over, we'll get married."

I believed him at the time.

Thinking about it now, I felt so stupid.

Disaster movies always showed that the apocalypse revealed people's true colors. I thought our love would be the exception, but it didn't even last five minutes.

Outside the factory, the zombies were howling and gnawing, probably tearing apart some unlucky animal. I kept my back to the wall, gripping my fruit knife, and didn't sleep a wink all night.

By morning, I found a small office upstairs on the second floor.

There was a work log on the desk, and the last page said: [Evacuation notice: All employees must immediately head to the shelter in the southern part of town. — July 24th.]

That was one day before the zombie outbreak.

The southside shelter. Maybe there were still survivors there.

I stuffed the log into my backpack and then found a screwdriver and half a roll of tape in the drawer.

I sharpen the screwdriver so it could be a weapon, and the tape could be wrapped around my arms to keep the zombies from biting me.

When I stepped out of the factory, the sunlight was blinding.

I squinted against the sunlight and spotted a figure pacing in the distance. It was Raul.

I didn't expect him to come after me.

When he saw me, his eyes lit up, and he ran over. "Romy. Thank God you're okay! I've been searching for you all night."

I raised the screwdriver, aiming the tip right at him. "Get lost."

"Romy, listen to me," Raul pleaded, desperation in his voice. "I didn't have a choice. We hadn't eaten in two days, I—"

"So, you traded me for canned meat?" I cut him off. "Raul, do you know what it's like to be pinned down on that filthy convenience store floor? Do you know what it feels like to stab someone with a knife?"

His face turned pale.

"I don't know what you went through," he said, his voice shaking. "I'm sorry, I really—"

"Too late," I said, stepping around him. "Don't follow me. If I see you again, I'll stab you myself."

"Where are you going?" He ran after me.

"The shelter in the southside."

"Let me come with you. I can protect you."

I laughed so hard that tears spilled down my cheeks. "Raul, it's sick for you to say something like that now."

He stood there, frozen, like he was pinned up for everyone to see his shame.

I didn't bother with him and kept moving forward. He didn't follow, but I could feel his stare, like a pair of burning daggers stabbing into my back.

Fine by me.

Let him watch how the woman he tossed aside survived the apocalypse on her own.