Thirty-four months after surviving the big war, and things are not looking up.
Even the weather.
Summer should’ve started weeks ago. And while the snow finally passed, the cold temperatures remained. In fact, the weather seems to be getting more extreme with every month.
And tonight, it’s especially cold. I can barely feel my limbs as I shiver in one of the four beds that came prepared with the bunker. Sarah is close-by, probably just as cold as I am. With five blankets each and all our clothes on, it’s like the cold can cut through anything.
It doesn’t help that we haven’t been eating much lately. Growing food is hard enough with the strange conditions, but the moment someone spots cultivated land, they purge the nearby area. The logical conclusion is that someone is storing food, shelter, or even weapons nearby. Thus, you become a target when you try to feed yourself.
If I had a gun right now…
“Touch me, daddy.” My daughter’s voice calls out to me.
“Princess? Why aren’t you in bed? It’s freezing.”