In every lifetime

Prologue: I'll find you in every lifetime

2100 A.D

"H-hello? Hello? Is there anyone who can hear me?"

Rosie turned the dials and sighed after hearing nothing but static on an old ham radio in the yacht they have been holed up for safety. She was bored, with nothing to occupy her time and her companions were getting on her nerves. She had hoped the last supply run included her-maybe she could've raided an art supply store. Her parents, however, still overprotective of her, opted to keep her holed up in the boat. They went back with only the bare necessities.

Her life was just about to begin at 18 and was looking forward to college when everything became weird. In a blink of an eye, chaos took over and humans-barely-mutated into zombie-like states. Her family, by some stroke of luck, managed to escape the first wave to her father's boat with a few more people aboard. They spent their first weeks stocking up on food and other provisions as best as they could. After the initial shock, their living situation had become the bane of her existence. She began spending more and more of her time in isolation with complete resentment taking over.

She clenched her jaws in frustration. Her phone's battery was dead, and all her art supply were left behind save for a couple of pencils, pens, and a sketchpad that she was now saving for something worth more than angry doodles. There wasn't much she can do anymore at this point, and being surrounded by adults whose survival skills were more fit for glamping, was driving her insane.

She stared at the radio again then reached for the transceiver's handset. She had been trying to figure out how it worked for a couple of days now. The silence she had received however slowly dimmed every ounce of hope she has that there would be light at the end of this tunnel.

"Hi...if you can hear me...uhm...whoever you are...please talk to me. My name is Roseanne Park...I'm 18...uhm...I just graduated from high school...and...yeah. I'm just...is there anyone else out here?"

-

"You should answer her," Markus Willis sniggered as he stretched his body before slouching again in his seat. "Kid sounds desperate."

Jennie tapped her fingers while staring at the horizon through their makeshift watch tower she was manning for the night. "Then you should answer her."

"Oh, don't act like you don't care." Taunting his watch partner and making it known he has always seen right through her hard exterior was one of his favorite past time.

Jennie arrived three months ago in the camp, alone, with nothing but a rucksack, a knife, and a modified baseball bat. She collapsed as soon as she stepped in, dehydrated and fatigued. Markus would never had made a bet on anyone that someone as small and fragile looking like her would've made it to safety. Yet, three months later, Jennie had become one of the most formidable part of the crew and even earned the respect of former military men like him.

There's a lot of brain in that little head of his watch partner, and a lot of rage. It made for a very good combination for the situation they were in. They don't know where she came from and what life she led, but at a point where the end of the world is near them, no one truly cared.

The 21 year-old survivor stared at the ham radio with a sullen expression. "It's cruel to make people feel you care and not be able to follow through with action. There's no rescue in sight and the last thing you want is to give anyone false hope that someone would save them."

"Sounds like you're coming from something very deep," Markus said with a taunting smirk.

Jennie adjusted the visor of her cap lower than usual, covering most of her eyes for a short nap, while drowning out the static voice begging for contact. "Don't act like the world never disappointed you before."