Morning Run

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The shells rain down.

The toxic cloud inches closer, snapping at my heels like a rabid dog. Not that rabies exists any more. Or much else apart from us.

The dark refuge looms up in front of me. A weather beaten soil hill. Who knew they still existed?

Scrambling to the top, I get a perfect view of the machine chasing me. Out for the kill. Bounty. The hill is the only refuge.

Temporarily, anyway.

Pacing my own self-imposed prison, I count that it is 5 steps across and-

I can't finish that thought as the ground opens beneath me.

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