Mangled, that was the only word that suited the dilapidated, decaying minimart looming before the weary scavenger. It was in such a state of disrepair that the walls themselves were crumbling and riddled with mold. Nonetheless, it was a goldmine for food and provisions, so long as the looters hadn't already found it… and as long as it was devoid of other people of course. 

Shelves crowded around her like a broken starving crowd as she stepped through the rotting doorway. This was a place of death and decay, nothing could be found in this worthless mess could there? However this was not so, as her tired eyes narrowed and adjusted to the shadowy room she began to pick out hidden gems among the garbage, an old bottle of water here, a can of beans there. Within time she had amassed a decent amount of provisions, with a little luck it would last her for the coming week. 

All seemed to be going well until she heard it, like a muffled whisper at first but soon the incessant sound grew louder and louder until she could hear it clearly, sobbing and muttering like something out of a horror story, although with the events of the last couple of years she wouldn't be surprised. The scavenger stiffened, already tensing for a fight. She could run now, and hope whoever it was wouldn't spot her but… it wasn’t in her spirit to leave things to chance. Creeping around the shelves, her heart jumping at every turn, she navigated the gloomy store looking for the source of the noise. 

Adrenaline surged through her veins. Faster and faster she whirled, blinking back salty tears, barely seeing through the blurry film warping her vision. Anything to stop the constant noise, to silence the threat, and then she tripped, sprawling down on all fours she barely avoided crushing her already crooked nose against a merciless steel shelf. All at once she got her wish, the sobbing was stifled with a sudden cry. The scavenger knew she had messed up, the threat knew she was there. With a yell she sprang up, rushing through the store to the backroom, careless to the raucous noise she was now creating, products and wares tumbled behind her like she was a tornado, a whirlwind of fury, fear, and violence. With a howl, she lurched over another obstruction. It groaned and shifted under her, the scavenger stumbled back and whirled her firearm around to face the threat. 

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Cold steel met shivering young man, really little more than a boy, because that's what he was, not a threat but a cold, injured boy, frozen senseless with fear. All the same, he could have a weapon, or he could rat her out, he could follow her back to her hideout and kill her in her sleep, he could, he could, he could... She wasn't thinking straight, the gun quivered in her hands. The barrel dipped and then just as quickly it jerked upright as the boy moved. At once she could see the gaping wound in his shoulder, clearly the boy had had a run-in with some bad people, he was lucky to still be alive, although judging by the blood pooling around him he didn't have long, she could help him, she had bandages, she could bring him back to her hideout, nurse him back to health, but that would be stupidly risky, she couldn’t let him see her hideout, what if he escaped and gave away her position, or killed her in her sleep? 

Frozen with indecision she fumbled at her belt, withdrawing a dirty flask, shakily unscrewing the cap of her brandy, she took a slug of raw fire , the dark liquid tasted of pain and violence laced with anger and regret. The boy looked up at her, his unwashed, shaggy hair falling over his sheening eyes, they darted over her face, looking for a scrap of mercy or kindness, widening as he took in her disfigured, scowling jaw and the jagged scars traversing her face. Once more the cruel flash of steel rose to meet his face as the scavenger backed up apprehensively. Once more the boy cried out, not in fear but in abrupt pain as he, in his haste to back away, scraped his wounded shoulder against a smashed table. Panicking, the gun flashed, a lead round flying a hairs inch away from the boy, the report deafened the shaky, shattered pair. 

Now there was no uncertainty. 

People would be coming, scary, menacing people, eager for a fight or an easy kill and even easier supplies. The girl swore loudly, She had to get out of there, she had to escape! If she left now she could hopefully avoid certain death at the hands of ruthless gangs or the militia, but what about the boy? What if he gave her away? She had to silence him, or bring him back. But he would slow her down! What if the coming threats caught them both? Then there would be no escape. Slowly she raised her firearm, finger coiled around the trigger, frantically trying to decide...