Survivors
It was the hunger. After everything they’d been through since the farm had been overrun, Alfred decided that it was definitely the hunger that bothered him the most. Not that everything else about their situation wasn’t bad; the constant moving from place to place, always having to look over their shoulders, never completely feeling safe… that was bad. The losses that their group had suffered along the way, the people they’d had to say goodbye to… that was worse. But the hunger, that was unbearable. Because after 8 months of this constant cycle of running and killing, he had almost become numb to the deaths; once a member of the group was gone, he was able to detach himself from feeling anything about them almost immediately. He’d never admit it, but it was beginning to scare him how easy it was now, to forget, to move on, to just keep surviving, whatever it took.
He could control his emotions, or at least he told himself he could. But the hunger- that gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach that reminded him every morning that there wasn’t enough food- that, he couldn’t control, and it was frustrating. Of course, he never said anything about it, because there was nothing they could do. They scavenged every day for whatever food they could find, but every day it seemed like they were finding less and less. Even with Matthew’s new, much stricter rationing rules, they were already almost out of food. Again. And so, as soon as they had cleared the house of all walkers, the first thing Alfred did was check the kitchen cabinets.
“Come on,” he muttered under his breath. The house didn’t look like it had been hit that hard, in terms of scavengers; there had to be something left to eat in this place. But each cabinet that he opened was just as bare as the one before, until finally he was down to the last one. For a split second, he felt a small sense of accomplishment when he saw two cans on the bottom shelf inside. But then he saw what they were. Dog food. No wonder no one else took it- who would need a can of dog food during the apocalypse? Unless it was a big strong guard dog, a pet was just a liability, another mouth to feed, someone else to have to watch out for. It was so stupid to have one. So so stupid…
Alfred took cans of dog food into the living room, shoving one of them in his jacket pocket. Though he kept his gaze on the floor, he could feel the desperate eyes of the rest of the group watching him. Then, as if to answer their unspoken question, he shook his head and sank down onto the floor. He pulled out one of his knives and started opening one of the cans. Once it was open, he tossed the lid over his shoulder and dumped it out onto the floor in front of him. A small smile crossed his face as Pochi immediately came over and started eating. At least he was able to feed someone today… He gave the dog an affectionate head rub before pulling the other can out of his pocket. He held it out to Matt as if to say: This is all I’ve got. I’m sorry. We’re probably not eating tonight.