Leaving

2800. 2800 gallons of oil left on Earth. 2800 gallons away from total chaos. 2800 gallons away from the destruction of humankind. Not that our world isn't already half-dead now. I sit in the remains of what was once probably a house, nibbling at my last strips of jerky, watching the numbers blinking on the battered screen in front of me. 2745.

As I watch the number slowly decrease, I can almost hear the sounds of fighting, as the fragments of once great governments compete for the dwindling resources, can almost see the scientists, cooped up in their labs, trying to invent some kind of device that would allow humans to live outside of earth. 2678.

Although there aren't much of us left to save, anyways. Ever since the Great Fuel War of 3045, whole nations had fallen apart. Instead of working together, governments tore each other apart. They were all fighting towards the same goal, but they just couldn't see past ancient disagreements and designated borders. And that was ultimately the downfall of the once great species of humans. We tore each other down, blinded by our own pride, and lust for power.

I am shaken out of my thoughts by a deep rumble, followed by the ground trembling, as if we'd just experienced a mild earthquake. I am immediately on alert, and in a few swift motions, I have all of my meager belongings packed in a tattered sack, ready to run at the first sign of trouble. As I crouch in the shadows of a tall pile of rubble, I can hear murmurs travelling closer and closer. When I am certain they are heading in my direction, I creep as quietly as I can out of the ruins of the buildings, and head towards a small grove of trees. I pick a sturdy looking tree with thick branches, and start climbing. Once I decide I'm high enough not to be easily spotted from the ground, I wedge my sack between the trunk of the tree and a stout branch, then get into a more comfortable position, ready to spend the night up in the tree.

As I stop shifting, I can hear the voices, coming from where I was sitting just a few moments ago. I strain to hear their conversation, but only bits and pieces reach my ears. '...someone here...food...gone now...find...' the voices fade away as the people talking move away from me. I curse under my breath. I must have left some of my food there by accident. Now they know I was there. It's not uncommon nowadays for soldiers from one government or another to do regular sweeps of abandoned cities, looking for resources, food, really anything that might aid their employers. I listen some more, but all I hear are more murmurs.

When it becomes apparent that the people aren't going anywhere, I sigh quietly and decide I'd rather switch locations that wait it the tree for who knows how long. So, I sit vigil, and listen attentively, and when the camp has been quiet for several hours, I climb down the tree as quietly as possible, and creep slowly deeper into the grove of trees.

I navigate slowly through the dark, until I find a reasonably well hidden clump of boulders. I feel my way around the boulders, and I settle on a small cavity near the back of the pile. I shove my sack unceremoniously under the boulders, squeeze myself into the opening, and quickly fall into a restless slumber.

(Time Skip)

I jog through yet another abandoned city, not event trying to hide anymore. The same group of people that had come to my camp 5 days ago are still behind me. I am sure they are following me now. I don't know how they are tracking me, but no matter how unexpected my path is, or how early leave, the group of people always manage to stay on my heels. I have barely been able to keep one step ahead of them, and I haven't gotten more that a few hours of sleep in days.

As I stop, panting, in the middle of a clearing, I realize that l have almost no energy left. I

had run out of food almost 2 days ago, and had not stopped to rest since. The last time I