There was a dog, dying on the road. Luna watched it, through a slit in her curtains, the man-the thing, that had tried to eat it was dead beside it. But no one had thought to do anything about the dog. It broke Luna's heart, and she had to turn away. She thought of her kids, their parents, and hoped they were okay. She had tried contacting them, messaging, emailing and as a last resort, calling. But no answer. She hadn't expected it. And that was why her phone wasn't packed away, with the rest of the things she thought she might need, if she ever got the courage to run. 

Inside the backpack was some food, all the tin stuff she had left which wasn't much, the granola bars she ate in between classes, a 2 litre bottle of water, some matches and a spare change of clothes. Also within was the small photo album she had, and the band gun she had purchased to appease her mother when she first started collage. She had never used it. Her bow, and arrows were beside the pack, and she felt more comfortable with that. Also within the pack was a notebook and pen, which might be her only way of communicating now.

Looking back out the window, she knew she would have to run. A little down the road was a bike. She didn't know what had happened to the person on it, but if she could get to it, she might have a chance. She knew she would have to be careful. It wasn't like she could call for help. But if she stayed in her apartment, she would either be starved, or the...the things would overwhelm
Her meager door, and get in. She had to leave, and now would be best when the street looked empty, apart from the bodies. 

She closed her eyes, trying to gather some courage, but terrified to her very toes. She slung the backpack on, slid her quiver over one shoulder, her how over the other, and very slowly opened her front door. Her car had been stolen, hours past otherwise she would have taken that. Yet now it seemed her only hope was that bike. Glancing about fearfully, she ran towards the bike. It seemed to take forever to reach it, her heart pounding as she continually looked about. When she finally reached it, she picked it up, and didn't hesitate to swing herself into it, no matter the blood on the handle bars. 

She began to peddle, her first thought to find anyone alive, who maybe had somethin better then a bike. To get out of there, with anyone she could find.