Manu leant against the side of his shack that sat upon the beachfront, a gun in one hand. This was where he lived. Alone. The only contact he ever got was from Jackson, one of the islanders from Mackinac. He'd come over every week and see what Manu had managed to scavenge from the wastelands, take it, and in return, give Manu some supplies to keep alive for another week. It wasn't the perfect life by any means but it kept Manu alive. He got little sleep, what with all the Infected around, but he survived, and that was what really counted.

Today was the day that Jackson was due, and he came right on time, just like every week, on his little boat. Jackson was black, like Manu. He was a large man - the first time Manu had saw him, he was very fat, but over the years he had thinned out to now being quite thin and rather fit due to the fact he rowed the little boat out every week. However, his haggard face still showed signs of the weight he once held. In the back of his boat was a rucksack full of the supplies that he would eventually distribute to Manu. Manu knew he wouldn't get all the supplies, he would get what his scraps were worth and that would be that. Some people would just shoot Jackson and take everything, but Manu was safe in the knowledge that he could get the supplies every week and that being loyal was the only way of doing that. That was the case until now, at least. Manu was going to leave this place for good.

"This is my last load, Jack." Manu peered over at the man who had just stepped off his boat and meandered towards Manu, leaving footprints in the grey sand. Manu had a look of guilt on his face as he spoke. He knew that his supplies were a big help to the people living on the island, but the cruel reality was that you couldn't rely on anyone in this world without the risk of you getting screwed over in the future. Him leaving would mean that they'd have to go out and look for their own scraps with no sort of experience of doing so - so many of them had been stowed away on that island for the duration of the so-called 'apocalypse', so he was a pretty integral part of their infrastructure. Not the whole community of course, but at least Jackson and the people he was working with. Even so, they'd have to cope. Manu wasn't willing to sacrifice his own sanity just to increase the chances of these people.

"Huh?" Jackson replied, glancing up from the scavenged items that Manu had gathered and peering over to him. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm gonna' get out of this place," Manu continued. "Find me someplace I can settle down where I'm not all by myself... It's driving me crazy, man."

"Hey, you've got friends here -" Jackson began, attempting to somehow change Manu's mind.

Manu shook his head as he snickered to himself. "Fuck that," he reposted. "I'm out here scrapping twenty-four seven while you assholes pile up your goods." He walked over to the islander and straightened his face. "Listen, J, you know as good as I do - you'd throw me under the bus first chance you got if it meant you'd get a slightly better shot at survival. You 'ain't gonna' share shit with me. There 'ain't no such thing as friend now. I'm sorry, man." There was another small space of silence. "Look - I'll speak to the guys, see if we can get a better deal. I'll ask 'em if we can get you a couple more guns." Jackson spat out, stressing the thought. Manu could see the anxiety in his brow. "Come on, Manu, think about it - at least sleep on it. We need you."

"Shit, I 'ain't no hero. I'd love to help you but there is only so much scrap I can scavenge," Manu replied calmly, not showing that his patience was drawing thin. He didn't expect Jackson to just submit to the fact one of his lifelines was just dropping out, and he didn't need to, really - Manu was just doing it as a courtesy. "I'm losing my [i]mind[/i] Jackson. I gotta' get out of here before it's too late. If one of those undead motherfuckers doesn't get me I might just top myself."

Jackson slowly nodded. "A'ight," he replied finally after some silence. "Well all I can say is good luck," he frowned. "I don't know what's out there, how many more people there are, and, frankly - I don't really want to." Manu thought that Jackson was going to expand on the statement, maybe end it on a positive note, but he didn't - he merely extended his hand, which Manu then shook gladly. "I'd say see you later, but I don't think that's going to happen." Jackson sighed. "Yup," Manu nodded. "I guess not. Good luck, Jack." Jackson proceeded to give Manu his payment - a weeksworth of rations, some medical supplies and some ammunition for his gun. Manu then turned on his heel and walked away, nothing but the backpack with the supplies with him and the gun in his hand. He left his home - or his hovel, or whatever was a worthy word of calling it, and put it out of his mind. Soon it would just rot away in to another part of the disgusting wasteland that was now the general landscape.

He walked forward - towards the hills. Towards the hills that he had not been passed in a very long time. He didn't know what it looked like on the other side of the hills. He hoped that it was what it had been. He hoped it had life. But he doubted it. He imagined that it would look exactly the same as it did right here. Blackness. Scourge. Infection. Death. He could only hope. And if he got there and it was as he expected - barren. Then he would keep walking, and he wouldn't stop walking until he found somewhere that had hope, even if it killed him. After all, what's the point of living if there is nothing worth living for?

"Now, how didn't I see this coming. Fantastic." Manu soliloquised as he met the top of the hill and peered over the vast view of nothingness. Somewhere in one direction was Detroit, his home. He didn't feel like returning there. The part of town he came from was already a shithole when he was growing up, he dreaded seeing it now. Besides everyone who had once been of importance to him in Detroit was now dead. Or worse. Undead. Or whatever it was. He sighed and ended the painful train of thought and set his mind on instead of deciding where not to go; deciding where to go. He began walking forward and didn't stop for a long time. He could only hope that he didn't cross paths with a vast horde of the infected.