Despite the fact that Shelly had never seen a silo in person during her seven short years of life, she knew that the ladder offered shelter, and a refuge.

A place to lay her weary head before she departed again across the rugged landscape before her, pursued by the demons that hounded her at every end. She had nothing left, no family…

They had tried to kill her too.

Her weary, bloodied fingers grasped each rung desperately, her matted hair trailing down into her face as each push upwards left her muscles and bones aching. Reaching the top, she fell forward, her face resting against cool, but rusted metal as the sun set across the landscape. She dabbled her fingers in a puddle of water nearby, the tiny droplets of water hitting her leg, cooling the scabbed bite wound embedded in her skin.

Her head spun, her world collapsed as she lay back, her eyes staring blankly at the sky above, her lids closing for the last time as it took her.

The virus.