[ WP ] As it turns out , the desolation is not worldwide , you 've just been living on an `` Apocalypse Reserve '' your whole life .

Steevee hated taking a shit more than anything else in his life. He could piss with a gun in one hand, be back in the garage in sixty seconds, ninety at the most. But number two? At least five minutes. It used to be less when he still had cans of green beans and beets. They lasted about a year after he raided that store to the north-northeast. But two years ago, when Moreson was visiting, they had hiked there and found it burned to the ground. So now it ’ s just the jerky and the potato chips that every vacant house has stocked. And that means at least five minutes. In the outhouse. He'd built dozens of outhouses over the course of his life, but could never find the perfect set up. His mother taught him the basics as a child: one hundred feet from your sleeping location, hole at least five feet deep so you have a year at least before vermin bites become a problem, high walls so odor has somewhere to go. He'd tried building the walls slotted like a fence, but he felt like bandits could see him and he could get shot from any side. He'd even gone against his mother's training and tried using a bucket in his sleeping location, since he could just empty it any time. But the smell never left with the bucket, it was unbearable, and he had to move in the middle of the winter, never the right time to be out exploring. So five minutes. Blind, practically unarmed. Helpless. 
 
 So when he was pulling his pants up in the outhouse and he heard a human voice call out, he panicked. Without bothering to fasten his belt, he grabbed his rifle and leaned into the corner next to the door. The voice, likely male, had come from east of his garage, while the outhouse was slightly south. It had been a single syllable, so it could be a lone traveler trying to approach for trade, or a call amongst a group of bandits, closing on his position. He pushed the door open slightly with the barrel of the rifle and after five seconds peered out the opening. Nothing for a moment, then he could hear leaves crunching. Only reason someone wouldn ’ t mind stepping on leaves as they approached a building is if they didn ’ t care if they were heard. Sometimes he ’ d catch Moreson stepping on leaves when they were out exploring, but Moreson wasn ’ t due until spring and Steevee hoped he knew better by now. 
 
 A raid, then. He knew he should wait until he could see more, but in that damn outhouse, Steevee felt vulnerable. A strange sensation creeped down his back and when the crunching of leaves stopped, he couldn ’ t control himself. Bursting out of the outhouse at a full sprint, rifle raised to his shoulder, he screamed at the top of his lungs as he ran towards the leaves. The figure dropped to the ground immediately and Steevee heard a gun ring out as his right leg collapsed under him in pain. He tried to flip onto his side so he could still fire when the prone shooter called out, “ Steevee? What the hell? ” 
 
 Steevee relaxed his rifle. “ Damn it, Moreson, you shot me! ” Moreson never visited this early, always waiting until spring had arrived to travel from his western haunt, wherever it was. 
 
 “ Jesus, Steevee, are you okay? Why were you charging me? ” Moreson was running over to him, rifle at his shoulder as he scanned the area behind and around Steevee. “ Are you being chased? ” 
 
 “ No, damn it. Look. Fuck! ” His leg would not let him get up. “ I just. Look. What ’ re you doing here, it ’ s still winter! ” 
 
 
 Moreson squatted by his leg and looked at him, smiling. “ Sorry, sir. I got an early vacation from work. Thought I ’ d drop by. ” 
 
 “ Vacation. Work. Sure. ” Moreson always had a funny sense of humor. Steevee had told him about some books he ’ d found that talked about how life used to be in the neighborhoods they ’ d raid. People lived in the houses and used the cars parked everywhere as transportation, using fuel that no one had seen in decades. They ’ d drive to other buildings and do work, they go buy food at stores, then go home to eat it. No raiders. No vermin. And they could go to the bathroom in their own houses, and the waste would get taken far away by rivers in pipes, so there ’ d be no smell. Apparently, water was everywhere. 
 
 Moreson was a weird guy all around, but Steevee enjoyed having company that wasn ’ t trying to rob him. It had taken years of meeting for raids at third locations before Steevee trusted him enough to bring him back to wherever he was sleeping each year. But he ’ d gotten to appreciate him during that time. Moreson always seemed to find the best food and gear when they were raiding, and was always willing to share what he ’ d found. He never seemed to find books, though, so Steevee offered to share the ones he found with him. But Moreson always wanted Steevee to tell him about the books himself, so he could ask him questions as he told the story. Steevee knew he could read from raiding, but it was good to be able to talk to someone, so even though it was weird, he didn ’ t mind. Moreson was an okay guy, and for the only person Steevee had seen in five years that hadn ’ t tried to kill him, that was a pretty good deal. 
 
 “ Jesus, you ’ re really bleeding. ” Moreson wasn ’ t smiling any more. He ran his hands along Steevee ’ s leg until Steevee winced in pain. “ I think the bullet fractured the bone. ” 
 
 “ Great. ” Steevee knew that meant weeks, maybe months off his feet. “ Well, good to see you. If I ’ m not here next year, it ’ s because I died from you shooting me. ” 
 
 “ Ha ha. Look, I think I know where we can get some gauze, maybe even some crutches. You think you can get up and lean on me? I don ’ t want to leave you here. ” 
 
 “ Yeah, I think so. Thanks. ” Moreson pulled Steevee up and supported his weak right side. Together they made off to the east. “ Sorry about that Moreson. I panicked a little bit. ” 
 
 “ Don ’ t worry about it. I ’ m sorry I shot you. Can ’ t blame you for being vigilant out here. ” 
 
 “ I forgot things are blissful peace out west. ” 
 
 “ Well, clearly better than here. I can shit in peace, for instance. ” 
 
 “ Sounds like heaven. ”
