High up in the mountains that overlooked the worlds last great city sat Matilda Bennett, probably the worlds last farmer. Ms Bennett was reaching her forty ninth year. She had enough supplies and the required skills to last for at least another thirty, if not more.
She has been alone for almost nineteen years, and felt forgotten for at least six before that. She moved up into the mountains at the age of twenty four. It could be said she ran away with her college sweet-heart, and then it could be said her college sweet-heart abandoned her. She spent the following six years cursing his name, only to realise that if she hadn't been abandoned by him, she would have died like him, maybe even with him.
As she stared down into the suburban wasteland she couldn't help but smile. Everyone down there was dead, she thought, and then started laughing out loud. Ms Matilda Bennett had a very sick sense of humour.
Her farm was only about an acre and a half. Basic crops were grown in the most south west corner. Vegetables were grown near the house and finally cattle, as in a cow, a pig and a pair of chickens, grazed in the remainder of her land.
Despite her crazed sense of humour, Ms Bennett soon stopped laughing when she seen the explosion in a warehouse not more than six miles from her farm. Without moving anything but her right hand she flipped the combat shotgun onto her lap and pointed it to her left as that is the direction of the entrance to her farm, she let out a wicked cackle. She felt sorry for the poor fool who next stepped on her land...