Desolation. Utter silence.

That was what I felt as I carefully maneuvered my way through what had once been Vanderbilt University. Dust littered the ground, along with the crumbled remains of the people who had perished in the aftermath of the Bomb.

A rat skittered over my foot, and I nearly screamed. Shush, Alessandra. I said sternly to myself. At least it was better then stepping on someone's corpse. 

I ran into the library, not being able to think of accidentally stepping on someone's skull. The library was my home now, at least, now after the Bomb had been dropped. Not wanting to think of the grisly stuff the dust was made of, I pulled together several chairs to make a bed-like cushion.

The pulling of The Count of Monte Cristo from a dusty shelf reveals my food supply, which consisted mainly of preserved fruits and pickles, the things that could last. I chose a jar of golden beets, and picked out my last bread roll from the top of a shelf. 

I plop onto the makeshift bed again. 

A half-starved cat, grizzled and mangy, sat itself on my lap, begging for food. "Get off, you mangy old thing! " I shouted as I grabbed the nearest book off the shelves, which happened to be Handbook of Nuclear Chemistry: Basics of Nuclear Science.  I swatted at the cat, annoyed. It didn't budge.

Uggh. Cats. I thought as I dumped the annoying camper onto the dusty floor. The cat shot a glare at me before rushing off. I sighed, tossing the book I'd grabbed into my bag. Not interesting. I say to myself, groaning as I settle down and pop another pickled golden beet into my mouth, and another bite of the stale roll.

Popping the last of my meal in my mouth, I pull a tattered copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone from my bag, and begin to read silently, helping me to take my mind off the stress of having to find food in the Wasteland and fighting the various mutants.  

I read late into the night, sipping from a bottle of water to keep the dusty taste of the air from sticking in my mouth. Even though I try to drink as much water as possible, but the dusty taste sticks in my mouth, making me gag slightly.

Sticking a much-used piece of folded-up paper in the book, I yawn loudly. It's getting late, so I stuff the tattered book back into my bag.

Sleep. My mind said to me,  and I scrambled off to what had been the dorms.