Waist deep

Matt used the long pole he had fashioned some time ago from a fallen tree branch to prod the water's floor beneath his feet, making sure that he wasn't about to disappear into the depths, never to be heard from again. He did so carefully, making quick and repeated jabs over and over again, proceeding forward only in small steps when he knew that the ground was safe. The water was well above his hips, making his shirt float slightly around his midsection, but he was well accustomed to it by this point. The flood had occurred years ago - as one of the survivors, water was hardly even a concern to him anymore.

He used the pole with his offhand, holding a pistol of some kind in his dominant hand. To be honest, he had no idea what caliber it was, or brand, or anything of the sort. He had found it on the body of another a few days prior, and had quickly scooped it up. He wasn't overly fond of using guns - he had been terrified of them before the flood, truth be told - but there was a certain necessity to them now a days. Perhaps even a sense of comfort. Despite the practice, he still wasn't any good at firing the damn things. He had been through so many of them, he was never sure how much recoil to expect when he pulled the trigger, and his hand was usually shaking when he did so. Meant that he could mostly only use them to fire warning shots, or for point blank kills. So he had had to gain proficiency at taking people by surprise.

The blockage on one of the old bridges had recently washed away, which meant that Matt now had access to whatever goodies may be underneath. He made his way below, barely registering the way that the wildlife had overgrown the man made structure. The traces of man were slowly disappearing with time, being replaced by what they had once sought to conquer. It wouldn't be long before man was only a memory of what had been on the planet. Many had realized that early on, and in the ensuing madness, taken their own lives, not wanting to lose in a battle with nature. Others, like Matt, had recognized that they may never even be another generation after themselves, but refused to go down so easily. After all, if a flood had wiped them out without warning, no one knew if something might be able to bring them back just as blindingly.

He felt an irregularity under the water with his pole and came to a stop. He prodded it a few times, gently at first to make sure it wasn't a fish or other aquatic animal that might attack if he reached down for it, than began to search its parameters, looking for a way to pry it loose. He was searching blind, but he was much better at that than at firing a gun.

It didn't take long before the pressure on the ground was gone, and only a few seconds later a moss covered something rose to the surface. Without hesitation, Matt scooped it up and dumped it into the pack on his back, not even bothering to check what it was. He was slow moving, and there was only so much daylight. He had a lot of ground to cover.