iv. Maxwell

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Aug. 9, 2236
{Point of View: Maxwell.}

     I make my way over rubble and other fallen objects.

     The explosion… It was devastating to the city.

      I wonder if there's any survivors—-if there is, I sure as hell haven't run into any.

     I continue on.

     It's been cold lately—-really cold.

     The smoke from the bombs danced up to the sky and has stayed dormant since—-it's been blocking out sunlight.

     I snuggle further into my leather jacket.

    Through the thick smoke billowing across the round, I see four figures run out to a car.

      Survivors, I think to myself.

      And as they take off, I try to map out where they might be going.

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