Dexter peered through the boarded up window and wondered, "how long have I been here?" Was it days, or months maybe? Years??

He brushed his impressive beard with his hand. It had been long enough to grow this. Dexter hated it, but he rarley had time to shave. He was always too busy just surviving. He never had time to live.

Dexter thought back to those better days, back when he was truly alive. He first grew it while Owen was still alive. "They say hair grows character, so to get it so early means you must be quite the character!", Owen laughed and put his arm around Dexters shoulder.

Back in the present, Dexter smiled, and then quickly frowned. It was time to shave.

He walked over to the reflective chunk of scrap metal he had nailed to the wall. Then he plucked a dusty razor off the floor and, after shaking it off, put it to his face. He drifted back to thought.

What was he going to do today? Perhaps he could scavenge for food? Read a book? Repair the car? Weld another battering ram to the car maybe? It's funny, despite putting so much effort into that car, Dexter never really used it beyond running over zombies on the way to town.

Smiling, he remembered that naming that hunk of junk was the only real "entertaining" thing he had done in a long, long time.

Providence - spraypainted in big black letters. It was a fitting name for a car that was so luckily found, right on the road to town. The front left tire had blown, but their was a spare and a Jack right in the truck. Uncle Owen called it "a gift from God."

"God damn it", Dexter threw his razor across the room. Could he go one fucking minute without thinking about him?

"It's the evac shelter.", he said. "I spent too much time with him here."

Maybe going out to scavenge would distract him? No... he knew the face of every zombie he killed. Yesterday he saw the corpse of his old dog, running straight at him. The day before that he saw his teacher. The day before that he saw his boyfriend.

Dexter clenched his fists and stopped himself from crying. He had to get out of here.

He peered out the window again and saw Providence. He knew what to do...