Cain has traced this path more times than he can count. He has a habit of circling back every now and then, looking over the place that used to be bustling with cars and people and greenery thats now reduced to dust, sand and rubble.

The path is worn, the street is empty. Maybe some buildings are housing a surviver or two to find home in. Cain’s tried that before, looking for a place to find peace in, to settle down and relax for the first time in awhile. It’s not a good idea, not if you want to stay a surviver anyway.

The smell isnt as bad as it used to be, compared to back when Cain was first met with the stench of rotting corpses of people and animals. Still, he wears a piece of cloth around his neck which is able to be pulled up over his nose. Just cause he’s gotten used to it, doesnt mean he likes it any better.

It’s what, the fifth year since the human race almost died out completely? Maybe sixth. It’s hard to keep track when each season is now relatively the same, when the days are uncomfortably longer with shorter nights. Everything’s just repetition really. The days of wandering for food, fending off the starved, the copious months, the revisiting, the wandering.. It makes him nauseous.

No one alive now can be reasoned with, not for a better future. Years of survival have taught everyone to trust no one. And in some cases, not even themselves. History, schooling, work, its all gone.

Cain hates it. Loathes it. Loathes himself for still being able to live when he doesnt even want to. Theres no purpose for him or anyone else for that matter. Theres nothing in the future worth waiting for, and theres nothing now.

He sighs, kicking a skull to the side as he continues his walk. He doesnt even have a place in mind, he’s just waiting.

He’s not sure how much longer he can take until he becomes just another pile of bones on the street.