San Diego, California

Got on board a westbound 747
Didn't think before deciding what to do
Ooh, that talk of opportunities
TV breaks and movies
Rang true
Sure rang true

Seems it never rains in southern California
Seems I've often heard that kind of talk before
It never rains in California
But girl don't they warn ya
It pours, man it pours

Out of work, I'm out of my head
Out of self respect, I'm out of bread
I'm underloved, I'm underfed, I wanna go home
It never rains in California
But girl don't they warn ya
It pours, man it pours

Samuel stumbled into the abandoned gas station with a crash. The scorching sun was zapping him of his energy and he laid there in a heap for a while, breathing rapidly while he tried to reassess the situation for the millionth time. He reached for the water bottle out of habit even if he knew it would be empty, only to put it back. He had stumbled into the south of California during summer, a hot summer even for these parts, and water had proved to be hard to come by. He had expected and certainly hoped to find more resources, or remnants if you would, from the old days in San Diego. Like bottles of water or soda in abandoned gas stations, but this part of San Diego seemed to be thoroughly looted. Probably one of those damn gangs, Samuel just hoped they weren't nearby, he wouldn't stand a chance in his current state.

Not feeling any better at all he grabbed the small bottle of painkillers and put two into his mouth, not caring if he overdid it at this point. They were supposed to fight an infection, at least to a certain degree, but they weren't strong enough. He was eating them like candy and nothing seemed to happen, and he was running out of them. He chewed them up, hating the acrid taste of the pills, and tried to produce enough saliva to be able to swallow the chewed-up pills. He didn't succeed, and the taste of the pills just lingered in his mouth.

Slowly he managed to get back up on his feet, it only got more difficult for each time, and his fears was confirmed. This place was thoroughly looted, and there was nothing to drink or nothing to eat here. He still had some food in his backpack, but he couldn't keep anything down, except for small sips of water. He tried the faucet behind the counter but it was broken. Turning around, his head pounding, he saw some maps behind the counter. Moving over he picked one of them up. Even though he had a map over San Diego it wasn't detailed enough, it didn't show what he needed right now, a hospital. Maybe one of these maps did?

The first map was a map over the whole state of California, and useless for Samuel at this point. The next one was over the southern part of California. At least he was getting closer. The next one was indeed a map over San Diego, a detailed one. And there it was, the icon signalling a hospital, and there were more than one. Now he just needed to find his location, which he did, and look for a nearby hospital. There was one, the St. Luke's Hospital. It was close enough. Normally it would have been an easy walk, but today it would require all his strength and willpower.

Even though his body ached and begged Samuel to lay back down, take a breather, he knew that if he did he wouldn't get back up again. He had to keep going. Stumbling back into the sun he could feel it sting his skin. It burned. He had been sloppy with applying sunscreen and now he was paying for it, but that was the least of his worries. There was a real chance of dehydration, and the infection was ravaging his body, and he needed antibiotics, strong antibiotics. With his luck the hospital had probably burned down.

How Samuel actually made it to the hospital he didn't know, he just put one foot ahead of the other, time after time, getting up whenever he fell down, making it block by block until he saw the hospital. It was still standing.

The last hill up to the hospital nearly defeated him, and he had to crawl the last bit when his legs gave in for the last time. His hands and knees was soon all cut up and blistered from crawling on the hot tarmac. When he finally reached the entrance it was locked, thoroughly so. Laying there in front of the entrance, totally exhausted, Samuel knew that this was it. He didn't have enough energy left to go looking for another way in, it was a miracle he had gotten this far. No, this was definitely the end of the road, and by nightfall the rats would be feasting on his dead body.

The sun sat high in the sky, the blues and whites of heaven making one forget for a moment the reality of hell. A day like that a few years ago would've thrilled Elizabeth, but now there was no reprieve offered in the cool water of the west coast. The land was ravaged beyond repair and the oceans were filled with chemical warfare that was more of a threat than the thugs that dotted the landscape waiting for someone to pass. Rape, murder and theft were the flavors of the day and Elizabeth refused to play a part in any of them, her and her small make-shift staff of four stayed in the confines of the hospital most days and nights. Her father's old shotgun lay within her reach at all times, her stethoscope being traded for a weapon. From healer to protector most nights, she pined for the days of old when being bloody and exhausted had more to do with life saving efforts that running to the nearest location in search of water or food. Animals were unsafe to eat so most of her staff had turned to a vegetarian diet, their ability to test their food before consumption helped stave off the illness that lurked at their door.

Jason, a tall, lanky male in his early twenties usually took the night shift and slept most of the day, Elizabeth, Sara and Jonathan taking the day. On occasion the heaven's would drop someone at their door to assist in bringing back to good health, but most days it was an offering from hell and they had to fight to stay alive. The hospital being one of the only remaining structures in the area left it a prime target for attack, which sickened Elizabeth beyond reprieve and yet - it was what it was.

A harsh warm wind below sand toward her as she stood at the backdoor of the hospital, the large cafeteria at her back. She raised her arm to cover her eyes, but refused to move back indoors, wanting to feel the heat of the sun on her skin for a moment if only to remind her that she was still alive and for that she'd be thankful. Believing in nothing meant that after death arrived, nothing but darkness welcomed her in and for some reason it scared the hell out of her. Not enough to believe in something for if there were a God then how could all that stood before her have occurred? He wasn't powerful enough or didn't care. Either answer left her not wanting to contemplate anything further in the realm of why or how.

Jonathan approached her from behind, his voice a whisper as to not scare her. "Lizzy. We finished patching up the older male that came in last night and he has left."

She turned her head to look at him, dark circles under his eyes and a crack at the corner of his mouth. "You need to drink more water, Jon. I know you're trying to be thrifty, but having you dehydrated is not something I want to deal with." She walked into the cooler confines of the cafeteria and let the door close, reaching over to lock it tightly as they stood in the dark together. He started to offer a rebuttal, but she held her hand up to stop him.

"I'm glad we were able to help the man, and we really cannot control when they leave. Most people understand the risk in staying in a location that still has supplies. They look at us like we are a sitting duck in the middle of a pond of scavengers." She paused and he spoke up as they moved toward the poorly lit hallway.

"That is because we are. We really should think about packing up everything we can and getting the fuck outta here, Lizzy. It's only a matter of time before..."

She cut him off, "Before what? And where would we go? And how would I transport my father, Jon? He can't move and if he breathes on any of us."

Jon reached out and pulled the younger woman toward him, giving her a warm hug. "Hush... we'll figure this out later. Let's check the perimeter before locking down to the lab room for the night."

She accepted the hug and let herself pretend for a minute that all wasn't lost and somehow hope would resurrect itself. The truth was very far from her thoughts, but fantasy was all that kept her trudging along most days. They reluctantly pulled apart from their embrace as Lizzy took the lead in going to check the front and Jon moved to check the east wing. A soft ragged sound of someone trying desperately to breathe caught her attention and she rushed toward it, yelling for Jon over her shoulder.

She knelt beside the male, his chest barely moving, skin burnt quite badly and his hair darkened with sweat and matted to his skin which was crusted in dirt. She turned him over carefully, pressing her fingers to his wrist and using her other hand to check the dilation of his pupils. He was out cold and yet his body was fighting the good fight. She waited until Jon joined her and together they toted him to their lab, laying him carefully on a examination table as Sara moved in to start a hydration IV.

"He's in bad shape. I see no signed of the disease though... Lizzy?" Jon started to remove the male's clothes, trying to stay out of Sara's way and yet give Lizzy a good look at him. His skin was tight against his wiry muscles, veins puckered in an effort to survive. Elizabeth touched his skin carefully as she pulled out a magnifying glass of sorts and moved along the contours of his body.

"He's clean from what I can tell, but you know how this shit works. We'll need to get him hydrated and then we can take a sample of his blood and quickly assess what's going on internally that we can't see from here." The other two agreed and moved away to lock things down for the night as Elizabeth pulled a few small towels from their supplies and used a small amount of water and alcohol to clean him up and tend to the small wounds on his body. His breathing got a little better as they moved into the night and his skin color perked up with the efforts of the hydration fluids that pushed through his body at a slow but steady pace.

It had been a good life, once. Samuel had been living the American dream. A big house, a job that payed well, a beautiful wife and two wonderful children. Matt and Jane, eight year old twins that he loved more than anything else in the world. He even had an old Corvette in the garage he was working on, and on Sundays he played golf with his boss. He was going places.

When the disease erupted Samuel thought it would soon pass over, like the bird flue-craze had, as well as the swine flue-craze, but it didn't. It never went away, it lingered, it outstayed its welcome, it fucked everyone over. Soon people around him starting getting sick, colleagues and people at the golf club. It was getting closer and closer. And then his wife got sick. When she was diagnosed Samuel didn't think it could get any worse, but of course it soon did. She deteriorated quickly, falling victim to the disease. Her behavior soon turned erratic, and her once beautiful skin was soon filled with boils and open sores. There was nothing Samuel or the doctors could do to help her. But the worst part was how it affected Matt and Jayne, they were terrified, afraid of their mother. The innocence of youth lost forever.

The hardest thing Samuel ever had to do was telling his children that their mommy would never come back home, that she had gone to heaven. And that the way mommy had been behaving at the end wasn't really her, it was the disease that had made mommy act like that. But how could they truly understand? Their last memory of their mommy would be the crazed version of her, the sick version, acting more like an animal than a human being, not the loving mother she had been. It gave them nightmares, terrible nightmares. But at least the twins had each other, maybe they would get through this together?

Then Jane got sick.

If seeing his wife dying in front of him had been tough this was torture, soul-wrenching torture. Seeing his beautiful daughter, a spitting image of her mother, fall victim to the same disease that killed her mother almost destroyed Samuel, but somehow he managed to stay strong. He had to, for his children.

And soon it was only him and Matt left. Matt was convinced that he would die next, and the nightmares got even worse now that Jane wasn't around anymore. Samuel tried to convince Matt that everything would be okay, but in his heart Samuel knew that it wouldn't be. He could feel it in his bones that Matt would soon be gone as well, and so would he. All he prayed for was that Matt didn't have to watch his father die as well, Samuel knew that he had to hope for his son to die before he did to save him more even more mental anguish. If it hadn't been for the fact Samuel had to stay strong for Matt he would have ended his life right there and then, but he couldn't, he had to be there for Matt, be strong for him. He couldn't abandon his own son like that.

Every night they both woke up several times a night. Matt screaming from his nightmares, and Samuel with that sickening feeling in his stomach that told him Matt was sick. He checked Matt several times every night to make sure he wasn't sick. It was only a matter of time before they both would break down.

Of course, Matt got sick and died as well.

By now Samuel was numb, he had cried himself dry and his once infectious laughter was a thing of the past. Burying his son next to his wife and daughter he knew he couldn't stay here. Not here, not around all those memories. He had to leave. He didn't care where too, as long as it was somewhere else.

And with that he left his shattered life behind, expecting nothing but a lonely death somewhere in the big wasteland that the United States, and the rest of the world, had become.