He’d taken to the sea 2 years ago after trying to make it on land hadn’t worked. Those that survived had become ruthless. When you imagine an apocalypse you don’t think about the ocean and apparently when an apocalypse happens nobody thinks of the ocean as a refuge. Others barriers had become his haven. While he was able to escape the cruelty of those that had survived he ran right into loneliness.

It seemed that he had to choose between cruelty and loneliness there was no in between. He had spent months without seeing any remnants of civilization. However any time he saw a boat adrift or a once populated island he felt equal parts fear and excitement. Afraid he might come across a malicious individual and excited he might stop being lonely. He was starting to feel that he preferred to see someone, anyone rather than no one at all.

Those thoughts would bring back memories though. Dark memories of what he had done to survive, what he had seen others do to survive. There was a reason he had run, a reason he had shut out those memories. He didn’t want to see anyone. He didn’t want to be lonely. He was starting wonder if he wanted to live at all.

So many of those that survived had taken their lives. At first he was hopeful that those that survived would make something of this new world but he had quickly realized they wouldn’t. Along with that realization came the thought that he would inevitably opt out of this new world. For some reason he held onto hope, even now he was still hopeful while he considered taking his life. He knew he would let really do it.

He had been entertaining these thoughts while the sun set. Dangling his feet over the edge of the boat, the railing keeping him from slumping into the water rushing past. He looked up at the horizon and saw another boat tracking his direction.