Scrounging for food has always been a basic human necessity. When sanity and satiety is at a low point, humanity will even compromise their health to eat. As a basic desire, hunger, thirst, and copulation become instinct during stressful times. Even the most reasonable man can turn into a rapist, beast, when hysteria sets in.
Chance, having derived his outlook on life with complacency to the current situation, was by far a calm person in comparison to others who had starved for weeks. His body, though battered, bruised, and punctured, was only moderately weakened than it usually was. If his mental fortitude was completely guarded from the shock of the new, rapidly, changing environment, he would realize more than his supernatural healing. Chance, having had a stable mindset, might've been able to conjecture that all survivors may have changed. Some could have even changed more than he had!
The most pitiable aspect of Chances life is that he has always accepted the wrongs he received. No matter how much he cursed his parents, teachers, managers, executives, etc. He would do nothing to alter the situation. Chance would be the mule to the bully, the scapegoat to the fraud, even the bastard for the jerk. He would accept it all, silently ruminating over the injustice, and blame society at it's foundation.
Although he appeared normal, although he had been in school to further his education after highschool, although he had a decent full-time job as a secretarial assistant, Chance was inept at understanding himself. He likened himself to be a dark horse waiting for his final Sprint. He had a, "I'm going to be the leader, in the end," mentality. This mentality gave him a strong, enduring mind, but eased his motivation to a grinding halt.
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Fumbling in the near darkness, Chance spent six more hours. He, surprisingly, managed to track the time he was awake with a convent glance at a watch he forgot he was wearing (kappa). The time from when he woke until now totalled nearly 16 hours, yet the darkest point of night just fell. By his feeble conjectures, Chance related the world's movement must have slowed with the expansion of the land. Invariably, the days, orbit, and season's had all changed.
Having had this epiphany, Chance jerked into turbo speed. The instinct of a forebearing winter struck him with a fear. Chance, from before, had watched many survivalist guides. Cold withers the spirit and silences the body. Chance did not want to die as he had heard how spoiled rotten humanity had become. Complacency would only force him to suffer.
I'm his haste, Chance came across several granola bar packs, a huge jug of water, and a twelve pack of flashlights. He took the goods, shoved as much food as he could in his pants pockets, and attempted to open the jug of water. From videos Chance watched, he know clean water was necessary for human beings to survive. Spending some time making a ruckus before finally cracking the nozzle of the water jug, Chance relished in the flavor of clean water. The crisp, cool, water slid down his patched throat like lava. Wincing from the temperature shock, Chance realized he had been running a severe fever.
Having drunk water, a dizzying, intoxicating, spell struck Chance. The young man staggered towards the remnants of the counter, where the ceiling of the building caved in, ignoring the stench of a group of decomposing bodies. Looking for anything to stop the throbbing in his head, Chance felt about in the shards of tempered glass and plastic. Several rectangular boxes of cigarettes later, Chance finally found some Moltrin Deluxe Pain Relief. Judging from memory, Chance popped the box, the bottle, and downed three 50 milligram pills. As he swallowed the pills, the rasp from a bloodied and dry throat pained him. Relaxing with a few more chugs of water, Chance fell into unconsciousness once again.