It wasn’t much of a fortress, but at least the gate kept both the living and the dead out. The dead generally weren’t a problem except on those rare occasions when she had to venture out for supplies. It was the living that concerned her, especially the men. They all thought they were entitled to her body just because they survived the shit storm that had ended humanity. She’d killed more than a few who’d made that mistake. Now, whenever she heard voices, fewer and further between these days, she always hid. It was easier that way—safer that way.
Written for Friday Fictioneers.
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