[ WP ] Life after the zombie apocalypse

Brie woke up cold, colder than usual even. Despite the cold, her pillow was lined with sweat from the back of her neck. While her toes were near frozen, her head was warm with thought. 
 
 She threw off the covers and stepped over the 12-gauge on the floor. There was no light; a single matchbook lay near the candle but she dared not use it now. 
 
 The darkness around her was unbecoming of the noon hour. It was a time that could only be conceived by mechanical means now, and the Rolex she had found long ago had not let her down. 
 
 Brie showered, using the plastic bag apparatus she had conceived long ago. The water was cold, as was she. She had n't showered in weeks and she momentarily thought nothing of skipping another useless ritual but, regardless, she had a plan for the day and that as something new. 
 
 The first new thing in quite a while, she thought. No time to be complacent. 
 
 She showered, using a brown piece of soap with seams along the edge from having been negelected through the days. 
 
 Clean, she stepped from the plastic sheeting surrounding her shower area and got dressed in the bedroom. She chose a simple outfit, a white tank-top covered by a long-sleeved black sweater, thermal underwear, jeans, socks and shin-high black boots. A quick glance in the mirror showed a brownish-black hairdo that hung down to her shoulder-blades. Her blue eyes, once an asset, now looked gray and forlorn, despite the anticipation she felt. Satisfied but not impressed, she walked down the stairs of the old house. It was apparently a Sears house, a bygone relic of the 1900s, when crates of lumber would weave their way through the heartland via rail. She only knew this because the previous residents had kept a running journal series, documenting the lives from the very first builder all the way until Mike and Michelle, which she could only assume were the previous owners. Mike and Michelle, of course, were nowhere to be seen. Only relics of their lives - scattered photos and journal entries - lived on as far as Brie knew. 
 
 She had moved into the mansion only as a measure of protection. She had thought that, the bigger the house, the longer it would take for her to be found. There was also the consideration of hiding places - little nooks and crannies abounded within the halls of the big house and Brie was willing to find and take advantage of all of them if necessary. The journal had been a welcome distraction from the death that had taken place and, if nothing else, it would be a nice place to live, with its big oak beams and rounded doorways. She could die here happy, she had thought. 
 
 But today was different - today was a day of hope. It was a rare day. 
 
 Brie gather a few belongings and left the mansion, a task not easily accomplished due to the various booby-traps and overgrown vegetation. Even the sidewalks complained, groaning and shifting after years of non-use. It was rare for her to leave the house, and even when she left, it was n't by a single doorway. Brie felt confident that the front door, risky and exposed as it was, would be a good door to leave from today. Her boots clacked against the cold concrete. 
 
 The dark and cold air surrounded her as she made her way down the sidewalk. The sun was gone now, a rather recent departure. Clouds and smog filled the atmosphere now, enough to even dampen the amber glow and only leave a smoky-gray ambiance that ruled for a few hours of the day. Plants already showed signs of death; even the dandelions that had dotted the roads for as long as she could remember were replaced by brown, cracked soil. Brie had no idea what month it was - she only knew it was cold and there was no snow. 
 
 Brie set her eyes on the diner just down the road. Suddenly, despite the cold, her palms began to sweat. Another old ritual, one regarded by many as a sacred pastime, was about to take place. She was nervous, and she supposed he was too. 
 
 But it was a beginning in a series of ends, and that was all that mattered right now. 
 
 She hiked the 12-gauge onto her shoulder and kept walking.
