Maybe it was the excessive amount of wine you’d had to drink the night before that led you where you were this very moment. Maybe that would explain why suddenly, this country went to hell and dragged everything you knew with it. Maybe that was why you were forced to drag a young child, frantically screaming ‘mom!’ across practically ‘end-of-the-world’-esque conditions with a raging hang-over. You swore, on most occasions, he was just like his father.
The town was a every definition of a wasteland. All the buildings were boarded up, and almost every road was blocked off (not that there was much to block). An eerie silence hung over the square, as ominous as this supposed ’plague’ itself. No matter which way you turned, the streets smelled of decay and blood. But--there had to be someone here, right? With frantic eyes, you scanned the area. Things looked grim from this standpoint. The town was desolate, with gray skies overhead (looked as though a storm was coming, you mentally noted). There were few cars, and barely any people. Or…what looked like the remains of people.
And then it happens… your eyes set upon a sign: “CEDA Evac ahead!” with arrows drawn in the direction. Relief washes over you, as you realized that all your traveling hadn’t been for naught!
“Survivors…!” you whispered under your breath, grabbing at the young child’s hand and squeezing tightly. Excitement flitted momentarily through your body, giddy at the idea that you might actually get some adult company for once…or any at all, for that matter. What could you say? Times were lonely, nowadays.
The boy beside you paid you no mind, his pale eyes focused off in another direction, seemingly more interested in something else. The silence between you was welcomed, and helped ease your headache a bit; worrying about someone smaller than you certainly was a burden, even if your own son.
“…C’mon then, time to get going, hm? Don‘t want to get caught in that storm,” you finally mutter, grasping at his hand again and pulling him gently along the narrow streets.
“…a playground…” the boy finally spoke up, pulling against your hand and trying to get a better view.
You blinked, the sudden noise surprising you when it emerged from the previous silence. You craned your head slightly to the left to see what he was looking at. “What, now?”
“Look! It's a real playground!” He said more sternly, moving forward and yanking on your hand. His eyes met yours, shining brilliantly at you while he begged. "Can I go play, for a little while?"
A pang shot through your heart at his enthusiasm. “Uh. Not today. You can play when we get to the Evac Center, okay?” You replied quickly, stumbling forward slightly at the added force behind his second tug.
The child frowned, pouting harshly at you, dropping the 'innocent child' act. “…it's not fair,” He huffed, his eyebrows tangling together, "Ever since we left home, you never let me do anything."
You snorted lightly at him, and shook your head. It was a shame you weren't closer, you thought at times, but the relationship between you two was so far twisted now that it didn't matter. With no father to care for him, and you as his mother, it was no wonder he was as emotionally messed up as he was. It was doomed from the beginning, as your own mother used to say.
Did you love the child? Of course. Just...maybe not as much as your gambling addiction...
You were surprised out of your train of thought when you began to feel the light prickle of rain against your skin. Weary eyes widened, reaching up to touch a hand to your forehead where the rain had hit. “Just be quiet, and listen to mom,” You finally retorted, “It won’t be good if we get caught in the rain.”
The boy huffed, realizing he had lost. “You owe me.”
Like mother, like son, the thought sparked quickly through your mind as you gave a cynical grin. It only took another raindrop to put you back on task, as you reached for the small handgun taped into a holster on your leg and gripped it tightly in your other hand. We haven’t been on good terms in the past, but Lady Luck, I hope you shine down on us today.
And with that, you trudged onward.
 - The relationship between your son and you is hard to describe. More or less, I'm making the reader into a 'I don't care'-type of mother. You love your child, but your lifestyle and attitude don't really permit you to act like your typical 'loving mom' and give him the attention he really needs. Hence, the banter between you two being so unfriendly. More will be revealed as the story progresses, no worries!