It was my turn to kill a pig today. Yesterday Anthony stabbed one while watching one from a distance. The day before, April shot one while she went to collect water. We each take turns so it’s less painful. If we all have to do it, we don’t feel so bad at night while we look up at the stars, waiting for a shooting star so we can close our eyes and wish for all of this to end. I didn’t know how I was going to kill a pig today. The last couple of times it almost escaped until I tackled it to the ground and stabbed it with a small knife. I always close my eyes and look away, but it’s the sound that I can never forget. The squeal lets out as it cries out for help. It breathes hard and heavy as it tries to get up and run, but after a couple of seconds, it falls, landing sideways with its eyes facing the sun. Anthony had been teaching me how to shoot a gun for the past couple of weeks now. Before everyone disappeared, I never wanted to hold a gun. But things are different now, I am different now. 

While April went out for water and Anthony went to look for more firewood, I sat on an old lawn chair we found holding a pistol waiting for a pig to run by. We had set up camp near a river here in the Arizona desert. We were only going to stay here for a few weeks. Our plan was to always make it into California, and see if there was anyone left. I waited for a pig to run through our campsite as they often do because we are on the path to the river. I didn’t need to go looking for one, I didn’t need to feel the sun on my back as I crawled through the dry brush. I didn’t have to feel so guilty today. After a while of waiting, a pig walked slowly into the campsite, sniffing through the scrap we left on the ground. It was small, but not small enough to be a baby. 

I walked through the steps, Anthony told me. Pull the head of the gun back. Make sure both of my hands are steady and have my index finger on the trigger. Close one eye, point, and breathe. As I pointed the gun at the pig, I saw it eating spoiled apples we found in a grocery store. I closed my eyes and pressed on the trigger, hearing the loud pop. But no squeal. I quickly cut it open, removed the organs, and cleaned it up with water. By the time Anthony and April had come back, I had already started the fire, stuck a long piece of wood through the pig, and watched as its skin turned into a crunch. April was able to find some edible vegetation and found fruit in a house that hadn’t gone bad. She began to cut up the vegetation and fruit to make a salad while Anthony put away all the scrap wood he found. As I watched the pig cook, I reminded myself that it would be April’s turn tomorrow.