This is actually more from the comments below this prompt. But yeah, the Punk knows where it's at!
They were a lone wolf. They stockpiled canned foods, tons of ammo, had enough firearms for an army! They had water filters, at least some, and learned how to make soap, how to camp out, all the basics. Their plan? Live on what they could, and when they ran out, take what they wanted. If the people refused to give it, well then a bullet would solve that problem.
The others had a bunker, the others were dead. The plague took 'em, well ain't that something? They left their door open, too! But wait.. there was nothing here. No guns, no ammo, no... food. Only thing they had were seeds. Books, seeds... a few small solar panels and wires, that kind of crap. Some wood piled up, dishes, clothes, a few bars of soap, what in the hell, nothing but those and a nearby stream, with town six days walk away. -- DaniAndShali
It was a huge bunker. It must have cost a lot of money. It even had a visitor's log. It had its own electricity and someone's spotify playlist was playing at background noise levels over the internal PA. It was empty of everyone except the man who called himself Wolf. He was on edge as a direct result. Scouring every chamber for anyone who might provide opposition to his continued survival.
He didn't find anybody until he got to the underground medbay and morgue. They'd all died from the plague. The last survivor had written a note and given themself a fatal dose of something, dying in comfort on their bed.
Dear visitor. We knew we were all going to die. The things in this bunker are not for us, but for a better future. Please employ them for the betterment of the survivors of our grand mistake. Repair this broken world. Complete instructions are in the vault. Wolf rolled his eyes. There was no repairing the world. It was broken for good. All it needed was the rugged individualists to forge a great new nation from the ashes of defeat.