The survivor hid in the bunker as the trucks ran across the road. The loud noises of erratic yelling and the occasional gun shot keeping any and all sane people in their basements.

As for the survivor, she hid in the bunker she built. Despite what everyone said, she constructed this concrete safe house herself. Even after all of the comments, the crazy names people started calling her, she didn't stop.

"You'll see, and when everything comes crashing down I'll be the one who's still standing!" She'd always say this with a smile as they scoffed and demanded she stop.

But here she is, 4 months into the fall of society, still alive, but feeling some remorse about how she acted before.

"Those people weren't wrong to think this was crazy, but...they also weren't right to treat me that way" she said to herself.

"But still, after all the comments, the lost friends, and especially the hard work and money I put into this, I think it's worth it. I mean look, I'm still alive... talking to myself, but alive."

The survivor laughed at herself quietly as she spoke to herself. It was strange, after all that time those comments became almost her fuel. People doubting her became some sort of reason to keep going, but what now?

It's like that metaphor about life. The one about getting to the other side of the tunnel. Only thing is, what do you do when you actually get to the other side?

It's not like survival was a problem. Those crazy people who just want to pillage can only last so long on the food they scavenge. Not to mention that those people that actually fire back at the raiders.

It really can't be long before those raiders decide that the risk of dying isn't worth it. Then they'll turn to farming and more peaceful matters. Maybe then people can trust each other enough to get along amd work together.

The survivor walked through the concrete hall over to the garden room. The crops are doing amazing, and it seems that those raiders (or anyone else really) still haven't figured out that the solar panels on the roof of the house actually put out their power down here.

Beans, tomatoes, and potatoes. Not the widest variety but certainly some food that is easy and good. Being underground also has it's advantages in water collection. Survival here is almost too easy.

Too easy...

The survivor then goes over to her sleeping room and begins to write in her journal

Several days have passed. The cold is unreal. Of all the cold Decembers that all of this had to happen it just had to be this one!

Oh well, I still have two more books left before I run out. I really underestimated how bored people get when they have nothing to do but make sure some plants are still alive (which takes all of 20 minutes) and make sure they eat and drink enough.

I'd kill for a movie or something! A comedy show would be insane right now. But of course, nothing here but the books from my house...and technically the library. Can't really return those anymore I guess.

The journal goes on listing all of the modern comforts that the survivor missed. The things ranged from fruit punch and chocolate to being able to just go outside because you wanted to.

A few nights later.

Heavy gunfire rings through the night, waking up anyone and everyone around. The survivor immediately grabs her pistol and hides by the entrance to her bunker.

The gunfire stops pretty quickly. There weren't any sounds of trucks or cars screeching out in the streets. Did somebody actually win? Are the raiders gone?

She steeled her nervous mind and decided that of there was no more gunfire through the night, she'd take her first step outside in months. She can't pass up the chance that someone survived, that someone survived.

She went to the entrance the next morning. Not a sound was heard after the initial fight. So like she told herself, she was going to check, just to make sure.

As she opened the hatch, the grass that had grown over it ripped apart. The light blinded her, the smell of the grass and flowers pleasantly bombarded her nose, and the sound of birds chirping had never been so dearly welcomed.

She looked around in amazement as she looked at what her yard had turned into. Her fence had been knocked over, which was lame, but more noticeable than that was that there were flowers everywhere.

She smiled brightly at the flowers, there were bees buzzing gently from flower to flower, birds chirping in the branches of the tree in her backyard. It was beautiful, after the crushing loneliness of being in the bunker, she could hardly believe what she was seeing.

She spent another minute gazing at the flowers before being startled by the sound of footsteps. The survivor quickly turned and aimed her pistol at the source of the sound only to be even more surprised as she saw an older man, a woman and what appeared to be a young child very heavily wrapped in a blanket in the woman's arms.

The survivor lowered her gun as she stared at the group. "Who are you three?"

The man and the woman looked at each other before speaking. The woman nodded and looked at the survivor, "We're just a few survivors from some raider attacks. None of us really know each other, but after a fight broke out last night we decided to look around and see who else might be out here."

The survivor blinked and processed what the woman had said. "So, there was a fight last night, and you decided to go out and look for other survivors? If that's true, then why the old man? Why the baby? This hardly seems like a search group of proper makeup."

The man stepped up as the woman turned her head away at the questions, "We're all that left."

The survivor looked at the three. They can't be raiders, no way an old dude and a baby were ever gonna be raiders. But is this really all that's left? How many people died last night?

The survivor took a deep breath. Well, if they aren't raiders, and they're telling the truth, then what should I do? I guess I should help them. Is there really another choice?

The survivor looked at the three people, "Do y'all like potatoes?"