I've been at this house before. A friend lives here, I think, or lived here at least. A typical small farmhouse. Typical small farmyard around it. The roofs of sheds visible not far away. Probably full of dead livestock at this stage, that's a common sight in farms nowadays. No living animals. Barely living humans.
The mud that used to cover the yard is gone. Now there's only dry, ashy dust that swirls around me as the wind gets up. I remember the mud though. Remember complaining about it, about the mess it was making of my shoes. It seems longer ago than it is.
The wind is welcome. It doesn't do much to break the torture of the sun that's slowly beating me to the ground, but at least it's trying. The weather isn't even unaffected by what's happening in the world right now. When things got bad, the droughts started. Sun. Cloudless, relentless sun for weeks at a time. I was over the initial shock and had recovered enough sense to be considering conserving water by the time the heat wave broke. And then there was rain. Monsoon standard. I nearly drowned the first night of it, simply due to sleeping on the ground.
The weather goes in that cycle now. Unyielding sun followed by equally harsh rain. No middle ground. No time for rest, recovery.
It's time for work. I don't know what's ahead of me in this place, although there's a chance the infected one knows me. That might help. Or it might work against me. But there's only one way of finding out.