The Passage of Turring

Prelude _ Closed Casket Funeral

The year is 2046, The Boiling War finally boils over. 6 people, each with drastically different lives and backgrounds, are ushered into the same bunker, the same hallway, the same room, and the same cryo-chambers. War had made their differences irrelevant. They each have the same goal. To live.
The doors close with a hiss as the sound of dulled explosions and wind seep their way thru the the dirt, the stone, and the metal walls of their chambers. The 7 trumpets still clearly heard, even down here. They lay in their cryogenic coffins, ignorant to the sounds of humanity tearing itself apart just a couple miles above them. The air around them grows colder, it should sting. However, The cool, still air pulls the survivors into her embrace. A soft hum comes from the machine. The hum of a mother. But this is no womb.
These 6 people .
These poor 6 people...
They know that this is the embrace of death.
Her cold breath drawing theirs to a slow halt.
Their thoughts slowly fade as their eyes close to meet the void that awaits them as the lights dim outside.
The room is now empty,
Nobody will attend their closed casket funeral.