Dawn arrives with birds singing, the sun shining, and you feeling pretty good for a person who slept on a cold forest floor. It's time to find people. You start forcing your way through the forest once again, looking for any sign of sentient creatures as you go.

It's hopeless though. There is nothing but trees, vines, ferns, and deer scat. There is no place on earth that could be this untouched by humans. The day drags on and the forest blurs together. Everything is blurry. Your mouth is so dry and it's difficult to swallow. You need a drink of water badly and find a pool of water from yesterday's rain. Leaves float in it and a water-striders are crisscrossing the top but it looks clear enough. Cupping your hands, you bring the cold liquid to your lips but vomit before it touches your tongue. Stomach cramps hit next and curl into a fetal position as your body turns against you.

Hours pass, the sun is low on the horizon and you're still lying in the woods, alone and ill. Breathing is getting hard but moving your arms or legs is even harder. You're too exhausted, you tell yourself as you force air into your lungs. How was breathing so easy this morning? The next breath doesn't come no matter how desperately you try. You can't move, can't breathe; your body is paralyzed as the botulism toxins from the expired granola bar overtake your system.



I'm a healthy adult, not an infant, and it's incredibly unlikely I would die from botulism in honey sweetened granola bar.