365 Days After The End of The World

After a year of searching for life within the vast dead world, Number Five was still alone. There had been a few times when, like a man dying of thirst in the desert seeing a mirage of water, he thought he saw a bustling city off in the distance. Every time that he jumped eagerly toward the people only to discover that it had been an illusion, he grew less hopeful.

Each day was the same: he woke up from a restless sleep, unsuccessfully attempted a time jump (no longer concerned with what time period he ended up in so long as there were people), used a combination of walking and spatial jumps to search for signs of life, didn't find anyone, unsuccessfully attempted one more time jump, and found somewhere to settle down for the night.

After he left his camp at the academy, his existence became nomadic in order to cover more ground. With him, he pulled a child's wagon which he stockpiled with whatever scraps of food he was able to find.

Trudging along, he suddenly jolted. He could see something in the distance, poking out from a pile of rubble. Walking closer, he made out the shape of a woman. Nervous it would turn out to be another trick of his mind, he approached the figure slowly and tentatively.

Once he got closer, he decided to risk calling out, "Hey, Miss!" The sound of his own voice surprised him. It had been so long since he had spoken to anyone. When she didn't respond, he called out again. Once again, he received no answer and he started to worry that she was either dead or just another figment of his imagination.

He finally reached her and was confused by what he saw: the top half of a department store mannequin.

A mannequin? No, it can't be. She's real, right? She has to be, he thought, desperately longing to not be alone anymore. Should I just leave her here? He knew somewhere deep down that taking the mannequin with him as a companion would mean relinquishing the last shred of his sanity. However, the alternative would be continuing on alone. No, I can't leave her. She's lonely, too.

"W-What's your name?" He asked the mannequin, still getting used to the sound of his own voice.

He swore he could hear her respond, Delores.