Chapter 3

Levi hadn't gotten used to waking up in pitch blackness. Although he still wore a watch, Levi had long given up on keeping track of time - at least in a traditional hours-and-minutes sense.

Levi had often kidded himself about his choice of timepiece, as if it were a Rambo knife for the apocalypse. His watch was one of those high-tech, medium quality jobs that kept track of temperature, barometer, altitude, date and time. It was waterproof, scratchproof and powered by kinetic energy. Hell, the watch was even hooked up to Levi's email account. Of course, it was no Rambo knife. But it did keep date and time.

The fact that his watch still kept date and time lent him a paper thin sense of assurance that there was some remnant of order still lingering in this world. It was all that stood between him and the fog of shit and gristle that enshrouded the world. He felt comfort that his watch told him it was Wednesday. It helped to anchor him in the present.

"Hump day", he grumbled out loud, trying but failing to find irony in the words he spoke. The sound of his own voice had startled him. Levi Pickering hadn't spoken aloud for more Wednesdays than he could keep track of. He let out a satisfactory, baritone yawn, stretched out his neck, shoulders and legs and started his day.

Luminous orange and yellow cynders popped and cracked as they leapt from the flames that birthed them. The bodies Levi had flung into the campfire the previous day served as a supplemental source of fuel. Levi stared into the flames for a moment, contemplating what had driven the Russians to cannibalism. His introspection subsided when a blackened skull sprung forth from the hearth and gazed up at him with vacant eye sockets. Levi picked up a loose twig off the ground, threaded it into one of the eye sockets and flung it back into the fire.

"Alright, let's see what these people eating commie fucks have to help my cause," he spoke into the air, his voice more confident than it had been moments ago.