Being an engineering student, staying in the Cyro Lab seemed perfect. With some junk I found laying on the hills nearby and in some of the deserted cities, plus a tarp and a "borrowed" knife-of-all-trades. I had myself a cozy little place, I thought. A week passed by before I suffered a nasty run-in with a dogman, luckily I had found a rifle with some bullets and was able to take him down with three bullets and some rifle butting. Wounded from a final attempt at my life, I tore apart an old shirt way past its hay-day and began to create some bandaging, sterilizing it of course.
I decided to sterilize enough gauze for a small army, but my water supplies were low. There was a river nearby, luckily, and I gathered all my old water and Corn-a-Cola bottles in my spare bag and headed off. It was barely half a day before I returned, and I noticed my camp had been ransacked by some thieves. They took most everything of value, but one thing struck me as odd as I looked through the damages.
My fire was missing.
I looked through my campsite, seeing if there was some ash left over, wondering how a large fire could go out so quickly.
There was no ash.
Someone stole my goddamn fire.
What do you mean I "couldn't possibly need fifteen lighters"?