The depot was still abandoned by the time morning came. As the temperature inside her temporary home started to increase, Della peered out of her hovel at the sun, a groan working its way past dried lips as she brought an arm up to shade her eyes from the glare. A handful of discarded cars met her gaze as she habitually scanned the area, as did one or two of the other buses, none of which had miraculously moved during the night. Too bad none of them were working, or she would have hotwired one of them days ago. A vehicle would have made moving a lot faster, but as things were she was out of a ride, and her sneakers were bearing the brunt of her travels.

Her current home was an old, trashed up school bus, its white paint peeled down to the metallic grey skeleton hidden behind it. Somehow it had been rolled onto its side, cracking or breaking apart most of the glass that lined the windows. Della had managed to rip one of the seats out and place it against one of the holes in the bottom, creating a small nest to sleep in, which she comfortably adorned with her chunky pack and moth ridden blanket. It wasn’t perfect, and though it took her longer to switch off at night than she would have been able to at her previous resting spot, it protected her well, and that was good enough. The other gaps in the metal box had been haphazardly covered by anything that she could find, though she hadn’t been too careful about it. The demons she had seen in the area weren’t too smart, and she doubted that, in such a secluded area, they would come snooping around a vehicle that had already been cleared of any inhabitants.

Her stomach grumbled audibly, and she interrupted her daydreaming to duck back down into the big box. She had already eaten the last of her snacks the day before, having started this length of her journey with only a small amount of sugared goods, which she preferred to eat, as compared to the many food tins that she had also managed to grab. Picking the things she enjoyed eating over the things that were necessary wasn’t exactly forward thinking, not for a good start, anyway, but she supposed if she could die any minute she’d rather waste her time fuelling her body with the crap that she liked instead of the crap that she didn’t. Even if surviving meant that she would get to them eventually.

Sighing, Della pulled out a tall can of corned beef from her canvas pack, nestling the metal cylinder between her knees as she slipped her bowie knife from its sheath under her belt. Checking that she wasn’t about to impale herself in the leg, she held it point down over the tin before jabbing it abruptly downwards, creating a small split in the lid. After working her way around the edge with jagged movements, she peeled the lid off and cast it aside, careful to throw it somewhere that wouldn’t cause too much of a racket. The smell wasn’t entirely pleasant, but it wasn’t strong, and wouldn’t be enough to set off anything but her stomach.. Digging a hand into her jean pocket she pulled out a metal spork, and jabbed tentatively at the pinkish flesh. She sighed again, taking a moment to brace herself, and began to eat. 

Breakfast went without much of a hitch, but other than the occasional, still-hungry gurgle from her stomach, it didn’t amount to the itching at the back of her mind and the tingle up her spine. The feeling had been with her for what felt like forever now. It was some sort of sixth sense, like a nervous feeling you get when something bad’s about to happen. But somehow not, at the same time. It was more like her soul was.. tethered, to something. It was hard to shake at times, but she could often distract herself from it when travelling – whatever ‘it’ was. When the sun beat down on her back and the sweat slid down her neck, somehow it didn’t seem so urgent. 

Slinging her pack back over her shoulder, Della clambered out of the hole in the side of the bus, sliding off the outer side with her butt until she hit the ground, where she crouched for impact. Righting herself as she stood, she brushed a hand over the back of her wet neck. However much she didn’t want to, she would follow the feeling until her body had found what it was looking for.

So she walked on.