[color=8dc73f][b][i]July XX, 2017 Taylor Marsha Johnson[/i][/b][/color] No, no, that wasn't it... She miscounted again... Fuck, was it a leap year? No, that was last year. Okay, so if it had been... how many days again? Shit, she knew she lost the date, she couldn't count the days anymore. There weren't satellite clocks or calendars to mark off anymore, she didn't even think to have a watch when the shit really hit the fan. Honestly, it didn't seem important until it was too late anyway. All she knew was that it was July... ish. And it was hot. And the Illinois-Indiana Border had to be around here somewhere. She adjusted her sunglasses and hat, through which a ponytail was fed in the rear. God damn that sun... She swore this weather was going to be the death of her someday, even before all of this. Humid, hot summers with dry, cold winters. It was like Hell part of the year and like... Cold Hell the other part. Ridiculous. Her backpack had her hoodie folded up inside of it, taking up way too much space. She needed to be sheltered and back in Ohio by winter, but at this rate, she was never going to make it. Why didn't her parents teach her to read a map, anyway? She stood now on Highway... Fuck, she could hardly tell at this point. All she knew was that the sun rose from [i]that[/i] direction, so it was the way she was going. If she could get anywhere near home, she'd be able to tell from the signs where she was. She needed a car, or a bike, or something... But not a single one of the abandoned pieces of shit out here worked anymore. They were all left with keys in them, running, or out of gas. It would take far too long to try them all, too. She sprawled her map out over a car hood as her eyes raked its contents. She checked the surrounding signs... Yeah, that... that had to be her spot, right? The unmistakable sound of fuel being burned at an excessive volume filled the air quickly and loudly. She looked around but saw nothing. Not yet, at least. Shit... Three bikes, not one of them giving a friendly sound. She snatched her map off the car hood and darted for the treeline just off the highway. No, no, no... Please don't see... Please, for the love of god, don't see... She burst into the woods and kept running like hell. Twigs snapped under her foot while branches scratched at her sides and calves. Fuck, she'd worry about that later. Just get away, just go, go... She haphazardly folded the map and stuffed it into a jean pocket before pulling her pistol from her side, slowing to a creeping walk. So far, she'd only had to kill a handful of those... [i]things,[/i] and not a single person. She was lucky, that was all there was to it. And really, those had been heat of the moment instances... She'd never had to decide to kill one before it got her - it was always defense. She found a large tree and placed her back to it, hiding away from the highway with her ears focused. Maybe they hadn't seen her, or better yet, didn't follow her. [color=f26522]"C'mon, Jack... Let me go first this time... Did you see the legs on this one? Hot [i]damn,[/i] man! In those little jeans..."[/color] One of them complained scratching his balls with a bit more enthusiasm than one should. [color=f26522]"Shut up... I think we should let this one live, Martinez. Shit, it'd be good for us to have a little road whore, don't you think? She's got the tats for it, she'll fit right in. We can take her down south, I'm sure she'd love to have a nice warm place to spend her winter, after all. But fine, you can start it off this time, if you really think it's going to matter. She's not gonna feel yours anyway,"[/color] the one named Jack replied with a gut-wrenching snort. It sounded like 'Martinez' was about to retort, but decided against it. Never once in her life had Taylor regretted the tattoos she'd had done over her young life. They always felt like a part of her... Today, she wished she could burn them all off her skin if they would just go away. [color=f26522]"Well fuck me, I guess,"[/color] A third voice spoke, figuring it was time to stake its claim in the conversation. [color=f26522]"I don't get shit?"[/color] [color=f26522]"Fuck no. Now both of you, shut the fuck up... I saw her start slowing down over here somewhere... C'mon out, girlie... We just wanna keep you safe, it's gonna get cold in a few months here... Don't you wanna keep warm?"[/color] [i]Crack.[/i] A branch snapped only a few feet from her tree. Fuck... Fuck, they were right there... [i]C'mon, Taylor... He taught you how to use this fucking thing... Derek wanted to protect you, so he taught you to do it yourself... Now just [b]do it![/b][/i] She whipped out around the tree and fired off as many shots as she possibly could before the pistol clicked empty, screaming as she did it. It wasn't until after she ran out of ammunition that she opened her eyes to two very pissed off bikers and one, dead as a doornail. Dear god, she hoped it was Martinez... Fucking savage. The woman started to back away, watching her footing with one hand as she pulled out her machete with the other. [color=8dc73f]"Get the fuck away from me! GET AWAY!"[/color] She cried, swinging the kukri to ward them off. No such luck... She tripped backwards over a root and tried scrambling farther away. The two grinned, [color=f26522]"You don't really think we can let you get away with that... right? I mean... [i]I[/i] didn't care about the guy that much... But shit, girl... You just killed a man..."[/color] He said in an almost 'disappointed father-like' voice. The next several weeks were hell... Her salvation came, almost ironically, in the form of a curse. Two bikers who couldn't contain the sounds they made one night were attacked by a small band of Shufflers. They could have easily killed them all, but they weren't paying attention and were, quite literally, caught with their pants down. Taylor slipped away in the confusion on one of their bikes, which she only kept for a day to get away before letting it roll down a hill, twisting around itself. She watched the metal twist as it crashed down the concrete decline and spit on the ground after it, screaming [color=8dc73f]"FUCK YOU!"[/color] Over... and over. She didn't even know where she was anymore, but she knew one thing for sure... If she ever found a shower again, it wouldn't help her feel any cleaner. [color=8dc73f][i][b]November 2nd, 2017 Taylor Marsha Johnson[/b][/i][/color] The woman cracked her neck, slowly rolling it from one side... to the other. She found herself in Missouri, her trek home taking even longer than she'd hoped. Those pricks took her a lot farther west than she thought possible, but she tried to push forward. She was going somewhere and couldn't let where she'd been hinder her now. Nobody traveled with her, and she avoided all people and things as best she could. Along the way, she found a couple of books and remembered some yoga classes she took as electives in college. It did wonders on the mornings she could do them... Just like today. Her P226 rested on the ground beside her with her machete and other gear as she sunk low into a stretch and sighed with relief. This was one of the few things that would allow her brain that euphoric release of tranquility. Fifteen minutes later, she was brushing the dirt from her jeans and shirt and gearing back up. Over the last few months, she'd acquired a tactical vest and some magazines that, thankfully, fit her pistol. She hadn't needed to use many, but she kept them filled and always prepared. She holstered the pistol under her left arm and pulled her backpack over her shoulder before putting her CPD hat back on over her sunglasses. She had on a light jacket, but the weather was getting colder... It wasn't cutting it anymore. She'd need a real coat, or at least somewhere better to sleep, if she wanted to make it through the winter. Her breath showed in the morning, but not during the day if there was sunlight, thankfully. Taylor rubbed her neck. It was sore, but she'd gotten used to the ground recently. She rarely took refuge in houses anymore. You couldn't trust them.