When the world went to shit, society went with it. And with society gone, all hell broke loose.

It didn’t matter how much Kant or Mill I’d read in college. When it came down to the last jar of peanut butter, rule of law suddenly became a luxury no one could afford.

“Hey.”

I reluctantly peel my gaze from the peanut butter at the center of the free-for-all brawl in the middle of the destroyed street. Looking around, it’s hard to believe that just one week ago society was operating normally and the greatest stressor in my life was whether I had enough PTO to call out of work the next day.

What I wouldn’t give to have my stupid desk job back.

“Hey. You.”

“What?”

“Heal me.”

“No.”

The irritated silence that follows is enough to put a smirk on my face. It doesn’t linger, because in the next instant my back is pushed hard against the brick wall of the dark alley we lurk in. My breath leaves my chest in a hiss.

Dark eyes stare into my gray-blue ones. Dark hair, mussed and hanging into his face. He isn’t much taller than me—but three inches and fifty pounds of muscle do a lot to distinguish him. His face is marred by an irritated frown and a week’s worth of grime.

“What the fuck,” I ask kindly.

“Heal. Me.” More stern. More irritated. Just as amusingly needy.

“I told you,” I say, pushing him away from me and straightening my clothes again. “It’s not healing.”

“Well, whatever it is. I need more. Do it.”

“No.”

Honestly, it’s not that I can’t. But I absolutely wasn’t going to do that again. Not until I figure out how it works and why… it feels like that.

He grabs my shirt collar and slams me hard against the wall. Again.

This time it hurts.

“Kid,” I say, clenching my teeth to stay calm. Now was not the time to be losing my shit. The world was already insane. The best way to survive at this point would be to stay calm.

Stay. Calm.

“I’m not a kid,” he mutters.

It’s not convincing.

Technically, society would say he was an adult. But at twenty-whatever-the-fuck, he might as well still be a kid.

“Has your brain even finished developing?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Let me go.”

He lets me go—albeit reluctantly—and I, once again, straighten my clothes. The act feels somewhat pointless, given the seemingly endless number of wrinkles that have accumulated from nights of sleeping in them.

He steps back a few paces, arms folded over his chest. His own clothing—a sweatshirt and jeans—are wrinkled and dirty, and he wears a backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. I imagine that when he’s not exhausted and covered in dried blood and muck, he’s probably fairly attractive. Could be why he seems so comfortable with himself and with me, despite the fact that I’ve likely got nearly ten years on him. No doubt he’s one of those beautiful people society has let get away with everything.

I’m dressed in a T-shirt, a light jacket, and sweats. My own bag—a duffel I wear cross-body—hangs at my side, weighed down with the bare necessities we need to keep travel quick and light. Given that the apocalypse hit at 7 p.m. Eastern Time, I was lucky to have been at home. Otherwise, I’d be staring down survival in my work suit.

A slurry of wet thwocks followed by silence tells me that the battle of the peanut butter has come to a bloody end. A peek around the corner reveals a sole survivor standing among a pile of slaughtered corpses, jar in hand. Blood drips from his fingers. Despite his victory, the man does not seem happy.

I withdraw back into the alley, out of sight. It seems this way is no good either. We’ll need to backtrack again and look for another way around.

“We should help him,” the kid says, his eyes still on the lone stranger.

“He doesn’t need any help.”

The kid watches me a moment, but the expression on my face must tell him everything he needs to know, because he doesn’t press further.

“C’mon,” I say, turning to head back down the alley in the opposite direction of the peanut butter victor. “We still need to cover a lot more ground today if we’re going to make it out of the city by nightfall.”

The kid hesitates only a moment before hurrying to fall into step behind me.