The farm was utterly empty but he knew he'd meet someone if he looked behind for long enough. It didn't like to be stared at, you see, and he was more fond of living than he was curious to see exactly what had managed to thoroughly decimate humanity.
It was following him and had been for quite some time. In fact he'd stopped camping outside just in case it figured out his complex system of ropes and locks like it had figured out how to open doors and turn on cars (it didn't know how to drive yet, it just liked to sit behind the wheel and honk at him to get his attention).
He knew he'd slip up eventually and he knew it was growing frustrated with him. It had switched up its usual "make a loud noise to make them look" strategy a fair while back in favour of "throw things until he looks" which had almost gotten him a couple of times.
The urge to turn around, find the creature and deck it was getting harder to ignore with every rock, shoe and small dessicated rodent it tossed at his head. If it weren't for the brief radio signals he'd caught that mentioned a lighthouse, he'd almost certainly be dead and the creature would have one hell of a headache for its troubles.
All he had to do was get to the lighthouse by Thursday and a small boat would be there - armed and waiting for survivors and he was damned sure he'd be one of them. He had to be. The alternative would be a lifetime of being just that little bit ahead of the creature at best and at worst he'd be dead before the morning.
So he kept on walking, dodging small projectiles and praying his calendar wasn't wrong.
It was following him and had been for quite some time. In fact he'd stopped camping outside just in case it figured out his complex system of ropes and locks like it had figured out how to open doors and turn on cars (it didn't know how to drive yet, it just liked to sit behind the wheel and honk at him to get his attention).
He knew he'd slip up eventually and he knew it was growing frustrated with him. It had switched up its usual "make a loud noise to make them look" strategy a fair while back in favour of "throw things until he looks" which had almost gotten him a couple of times.
The urge to turn around, find the creature and deck it was getting harder to ignore with every rock, shoe and small dessicated rodent it tossed at his head. If it weren't for the brief radio signals he'd caught that mentioned a lighthouse, he'd almost certainly be dead and the creature would have one hell of a headache for its troubles.
All he had to do was get to the lighthouse by Thursday and a small boat would be there - armed and waiting for survivors and he was damned sure he'd be one of them. He had to be. The alternative would be a lifetime of being just that little bit ahead of the creature at best and at worst he'd be dead before the morning.
So he kept on walking, dodging small projectiles and praying his calendar wasn't wrong.
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