395 Highland Avenue, corner of Highland Avenue and Kellogg Avenue
The houses in the small town had long been abandoned. Few cars remained parked on the street that was now littered with the dead, friends and relatives that had transformed into something ungodly, unholy, and unnatural. Freaks.
A small boy of perhaps thirteen, sat inside his childhood home atop a massive pile of supplies. He knew he would be able to survive on his own for a good while before the need for foor or water drove him outside of the security of borded up windows and doors. He hadn't always been on his own. His father, one of those survivalist enthusiasts that had been prepared for any of the apocalyptic futures outlined in the news, websites, or bible, had left in everlasting search of more supplies. It hadn't been the first time that the young boy had been left to care for their hoard of supplies Hans style - solo. He'd been forced to mature at a rather fast pace, and become adept at caring for himself while his father made numerous trips to guarantee their continued survival. After all, one didn't amass such a large quantity of things by remaining indoors and cowering whenever a band of Freaks made their way through town.
Recently, things had been quiet enough. A few stragglers moaned and shuffled through the streets every now and then, more frequently at night, but the boy hadn't seen anything to worry him for a few days. Feeling confident after glancing through the peephole in the largest window, he scurried up through the attic and lay on his belly on the roof of his home. The sun felt warm on his back, but the breeze kept him cool. With him, he held a few pieces of dried fruit, a bottle of water, and in his hands, he looked through a high-tech pair of binoculars with combination night-vision. Everyday around this time, he would scan the roads for signs of his father approaching.
As he looked up and down the street, his eyes caught small movement in one of the houses down the street. Startled, he sat up and fixed his binoculars on the house, thinking it might be his father. As he continued to catch small glimpses of someone through the windows he realized a few things in succession. One, his father wouldn't have gone into another house on their street without first checking up on him, so it couldn't be his father. Two, from the way the silhouette moved, he could tell it wasn't a Freak. Three... if it wasn't a Freak, it had to be another living person. It'd been more than month since either him or his father had seen any other surviving humans, much less having one right near their own home.
Being the child that he was, the boy did not stop to consider the possibility that the person in that house might not be of good character, and could very well pose a threat to him, and the supplies in his home. Naive bliss filled him at the thought of speaking to another living person. He whistled loudly, wondering if that would be enough noise to capture the stranger's attention. It wasn't, and he was growing desperate to find out exactly who it was. Perhaps the Durkleton's had returned home for some of their things? They had been one of the first to leave town after the outbreak hit. Or maybe it was another survivor, looking for supplies, or shelter. Food. He looked down to his hand at the dried fruits and curled his fingers into a fist.
"I have more than enough to share with you," he whispered to himself.
The boy made his way back into the house and through the special opening he and his father had crafted when they needed to leave the safety of home. Scared that he was now out in the open, the boy moved quickly through the yards of various houses until he came upon the one that held someone inside. It was only when his hand was about to knock on the door that he realized he could have made a mistake and the possibility of him closing in on a Freak was pretty high. Breathing heavy from the run, he looked around to see if there was anything he could use as a weapon around him. A flashlight lay discarded on the grass, the back and been left open and the batteries long gone. It was small, but would cause enough damage to give him time to run back home. Outrunning a single Freak was easy, it was only when they were in large numbers that people could face life threatening danger. At least, that's what his father had taught him.
He knocked on the door lightly, not wanting to frighten whoever was inside, and then opened it. Dark and musty, the house at first glance appeared to be as abandoned as the others. "Hey," he said. His voice was low, but loud enough to carry through the house. "Hey, who's in here? I saw you from my house..."