The Apocolypse had happened at the possible worst time for her. Her husband was sick, and she had come home to a dark house, and knocked over kitchen items to discover her husband lying on the floor, out cold. She had tried to call the police for help when her husband jumped on her and she pushed him off to see he was dead. She had no choice to stab him in the head.
That was a while ago. Lucille now was sitting around a small fire, trying not to freeze her tits off. Her bomber jacket was nice, but man was it still cold as shit. She sighed leaning back against a tree, gently picking at her knife. She was beginning to fall asleep when she heard trucks. She opened her eyes to see trucks with bright lights on. She could also hear men talking.
Lucille scooted closer, trying to listen to what they were talking about. She could hear they were talking about a run they just did, and saw some crates close to her that had food in them. She practically heard her stomach growling. It had been a solid two days since she had eaten. She glanced up from the bushes to see that the few men who were out of their trucks were turned away. She quietly scooted out of her hiding spot and snatched a can of soup from the crate, running back into the bushes.
“HEY!” she heard someone shout from behind her. She gasped and began running into the dark forest, the branches smacking her in the face. She heard more yelling as she tripped into a ditch. She grunted, climbing out as she limped over to a tree, sitting behind it to try and hide, catching her breath as best she could. Fuck. She had forgotten her handgun back at her campsite. She could only sit and hope for the best. She then heard herself be surrounded and was approached by men with guns. Big guns. She gulped. She then saw a man come out of the bushes. A man with a barbwire wrapped baseball bat.
