Hi all. I know that I haven't worked on my other stories in a while, and you all will probably hate me because now I'm starting another one. I'm sorry, but I've been beating off plot bunnies with an aluminum bat for a long time but somehow this one got through. And it was just so cute that I couldn't tell it to go away. So I've been sitting on this idea for a while now, and I finally decided to give it a shot. Wish me luck!

Little side note: 9 probably took place somewhere during the 40s, so I'm going to do my best to keep all of the references to books and music and the like to that time period. That being said, there might be a few songs that slip by just because I like them too much and they work with the plot.

Disclaimer: Only the humans belong to me. Everything else belongs to Shane Acker, the lucky guy.

Chapter 1: Alone

I lay on my cot, staring up at the metal pipe covered ceiling of the bunker's dormitory. I sighed heavily. Ever since Mike had left, there wasn't much to do down here. How long has it been since he left? It must have been at least a month by now. Finally, my stomach convinced me to get up and head to the pantry to see what was left.

As I wandered my way down, I found myself musing about how I wound up down here. I, along with nine others, had seen the danger that the machines presented long before many others. No one believed us when we tried to warn them, so we began making preparations on our own. We found an underground bunker and started stocking up on food and other supplies. Just as the machines began their attack, we sealed the door. We had originally planned to stay down there until well after the sounds or war stopped, but many of us lost patience. I guess one could call it cabin fever. One by one, the others got fed up with hiding and left the bunker. None of them ever came back. I was the last on down here.

I rested my head against the door for a moment as another wave of loneliness crashed over me, before pushing it open and entering the pantry. I thought I would become used to such waves, but they never lost their pain. Before taking anything from the shelves, I did a quick inventory. What I found didn't please me in the least. There was only enough left for maybe another month. There originally had been more than enough to last all ten of us for a year, possibly a year and a half, but a break in one of the main water lines had caused half of it to go bad, and each of the others had taken some with them when they made their journey back to the surface. I slumped down against the wall. Great…this was just perfect. I had two choices: either stay down here and starve, or go up to the surface and face any remaining machines. I closed my eyes in thought. "At least the machines will make it quick," I said out loud. My voice was raspy from disuse.

I jogged back to the dormitory. Grabbing the satchel that hung on my bed post, I opened the chest at the foot of my bed. I paused, thinking for a moment. My skirts and blouses wouldn't be very good for running away from or fighting machines in. Even so, I pulled out one of the skirts, a gift that had been from one of the others who hid in the bunker. It was navy blue with a silver trim, and had been hand sewn especially for me by Ellie. She had been the sixth to leave us.

Roughly pushing all thoughts of the others out of my head, I pulled my other prized possessions out of the chest: two books. They had been gifts from another of the group, The Call of the Wild and Black Beauty. I had read through them countless times, memorized practically every line, but I cherished them above all else. After taking one last glance through all my belongings for what was probably going to be for the last time, I shut the chest. I walked out of the room that the girls had shared and across the hall into the boys' dorm.

There had never really been any separation between us. Whenever I had a nightmare, I would often run across the hall, where Gramps would talk me down and walk me back to bed once I was calm. He wasn't actually my grandfather, but Tom was the oldest out of us and would jokingly refer to the younger ones out of the group as his grandchildren, so we had taken to calling him Gramps. Although he never played favorites, I think he had a soft spot for me. Gramps was the one who had given me the books.

Walking to the bed on the far side of the room, I opened the chest that belonged to a boy who was about a year older than I was. Hopefully the clothes that he had left behind would fit me. The legs of the pants were just a little too long for me but otherwise fit fine, although it felt a little strange to be wearing them. The length wasn't a big problem; I could easily hem them up later. His shirts also fit me relatively well, as did the boots. I took a spare set and stuffed them into my satchel. "Thanks, Mike. You might just have saved my life again," I whispered as I shut the lid of his chest.

Returning to the pantry, I packed a food supply that if I used it sparingly enough could last me for a week. If I was still alive and had to come back for the remainder, I would. My last stop was to the hospital wing. I would need medical supplies if something happened to me. Granted, if one of the Walkers found me there wouldn't be a whole lot I could do to patch myself up, but it made me feel better to be ready if the worst should happen. I had been the groups "doctor," for lack of a better word. The most that ever happened was somebody whacked their head on a low hanging pipe and needed a quiet place to lie down. Only once had somebody needed stitches, but the injury wasn't that serious. Still, they trusted me with any aches and pains, and I was always more than happy to help in any way I could. Now, I loaded up on bandages, gauze pads, surgical needle and thread, and a bottle of penicillin.

I checked through my satchel one last time. Finally satisfied that I had everything that I needed, I took one last walk through the lonely halls of the bunker. This was quite possibly be the last time I would hear my footsteps echo down them, the last time I would duck under the pipe that everybody at one point or another would walk straight into, the last time I would be almost perfectly safe. Finally, I made my way to the exit. I said good-bye to the place that I had called home for a year and opened the first door that would lead up to the surface.

The bunker that we had chosen had an air lock system, meaning that there were several chambers that one had to pass through before reaching the surface. Ours had three doors, which effectively kept any of the deadly gases out of the living space anytime somebody left for the surface. I checked the door as I closed it, making sure it was shut tightly before starting up the ladder to the second door, or rather, a hatch. Carefully, I lifted the heavy hatch while balancing my satchel on one shoulder and scrambled through, letting it shut with a bang behind me. I checked it as well before looking up at the final hatch; the one that led to the surface. A shuddering sigh escaped me. I was very afraid of what I would find out there and considered scratching the entire idea. I sighed again. Turning back wouldn't do me any good; I would have to go up to the surface and face whatever was out there, be it gas or machine or…who knows what.

Taking hold of the latch, I shoved the hatch open and took a breath, half expecting to instantly drop dead from the gas. Nothing happened. I took another breath. Still nothing. The air didn't smell stale like the air in the bunker had been. It was the most wonderful thing I had ever smelled. I felt a slight breeze brush against my cheek. Perhaps the wind had blown all of the poison gas away. Maybe whatever it was that made up the gas had broken down over time. Whatever had happened, the important thing was that I wasn't suffocating. There had to be oxygen in the air as well, which meant there had to be plants somewhere. Perhaps the surface wasn't as desolate as I thought.

I pulled myself up onto the surface and closed the hatch behind me. I looked around the area in hopes of memorizing some form of landmark that would help me find my way back to the bunker and was horrified by what I saw. When we had gone down, the war was just starting; there had been many buildings nearby that were still standing. Now they had all been reduced to piles of rubble, but that wasn't what had bothered me. Not ten paces from where I was standing was the body of Paul, the first to leave the bunker. He and I had never really gotten along very well because of how aggressive he could be. He had originally wanted to fight the machines and had only come down into the bunker because his sister Ellie had asked him to. The poor devil had left the bunker well before the sounds of war had begun to diminish. He had paid for his foolishness with his life; I could tell from the blood that he had been mowed down by a Walker's machine gun.

I looked away from him sadly to see another body, the thin form of Lilith. She had been a sweet little thing, albeit a little nervous and skittish. She almost never spoke to anyone, but she would talk to me when no one else was around. Lil had been afraid to come up to the surface, but she confided in me the night she left that she didn't want to be in our underground prison anymore. She left not two hours after, with no one there to say goodbye. I wanted to see her off, to wish her luck, but she told me to leave her to go alone. That was simply her style. I didn't inspect her body to see how she died. I didn't want to know.

Quickly, I moved away from the area, not paying attention to where I was going. I didn't want to see the forms of anyone else. I didn't want to know that I was the last one. And yet, I knew I was the last. Everyone else was gone. I was permanently alone.

Taking quick inventory of the surroundings, I found myself back in the city. My foot caught on something and I glanced down to see what it was. A satchel. My eyes followed up the winding strap on their own accord. I knew what I would see. Cold, dead fingers were wrapped around it. My eyes followed the arm up, up to the face. It was Ken, another from our group. Glancing around, I saw the still form of Amy lying not too far from him. They were…a bit of an item. The love-birds had left at the same time. Clearly, Amy had tripped and fallen behind and Ken had turned around to help her. Their hands never met before they died. They looked so sad and scared…so lonely…

Slowly kneeling down next to them, I moved their hands so that they were touching. I curled the cold fingers around each other. There, know they were together again. They wouldn't be alone anymore…not like…me…

I started laughing like a maniac at the cruel irony of it all. The dead would be together, while the living would be all alone, so very alone. I could feel my mind crumbling beneath it all as my laughter became body-wrenching sobs. Was this how it was going to end for me, killed by my own insanity? In a fit, I grabbed Ken's satchel and started going through it. I found a notebook and a pen. Opening it, I began scribbling down the names of everyone I had known in it in a desperate attempt to keep my sanity and my memories. The last on the list were those who had been in the bunker with me.

Paul – stubborn, fighter, cared about his sister

Cathy – a bit bossy, always one step ahead

Ken – one track mind, generally easy-going

Amy – friendly enough, a bit of an airhead

Theo – youngest, playful, adventurous

Ellie – gentle, giving, never a bad word about anyone

Lilith – quiet, loner, loving in her own way

Tom – friendly, caring, grandfatherly, wonderful storyteller

Mike – best friend, goofy, easily excited, loyal to a fault

Adriana/Addy –

I stopped at my name. What could I say about myself? My mind drew an absolute blank, save for one word…Alone.

So, you like? I know, no stitchpunks yet, but I needed to have some sort of a set up. They'll show up soon, I pwomise. *puppy dog eyes* In the mean time, how about some nice reviews? Love ya all.