The pounding was relentless; a constant in the new world they found themselves living in. Jacob wasn’t sure what they were doing could be considered living, it was more like surviving. He wasn’t sure how much longer they would be amongst the living. He wasn’t sure if survival was in the cards. Jacob stared at the Ruger he gripped in his hand. It had become almost an extension of his body over the course of the past two months. The weight of the gun felt good in his hand. It was cold and so heavy; almost as heavy as the heart beating in his chest. In the room next door he could hear the twins crying. What did they have to cry about? They were fed and changed regularly, they were loved. What the fuck did they have to cry about? If someone really wanted to have something to shed tears over a simple glance out the window would do just fine. Seeing what the world had become . . . that shit was worth crying about. Jacob shifted on the toilet. His hemorrhoids had been killing him lately on top of everything else.
