[JANUARY 10, 2002]

There was yelling from across the street, and two men were fighting over a can of peaches, which really was the only source of food left. With the bunker running low on supplies, fighting was all everyone ever did.

Victoria watched the fight happen, hoping no one would pull a weapon on one another. Her arms are crossed under her chest, her foot tapping against the cracked sidewalk. The freezing snow falls onto her, which she doesn't wipe off, not bothered by it from years of sitting in the bushes under cold snow.

She was almost like a wolf, head low, cold eyes scanning over the area. She was intimidating but alluring.