"Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? They have passed like rain on the mountains. Like wind in the meadow. The days have gone down in the west, behind the hills, into shadow. How did it come to this?"
_____________...
The world we fight for, is not our own. It belongs to the enemy now. We only fight for survival. There's nothing left to do anyway. We protect each other as much as we can. But there's no winning this war. It is folly to try. I gave that up a long time ago.
I carry canned soup on my hand, a loaded pistol in the other, not that it'll do any good. I toss the food to Ry, him catching it with one hand. "All I could scavenge. Hope it'll hold you well."
I walk over burned papers and a torn couch to the window, cracking open the plastic blinds, throwing dust into the air. I peer into the dark dirty world in front of me, ash covering the structure once called Big Ben. But the face of the clock has cracked and fallen
"We need to move," I say as dark soldiersbegin walking the lands ahead.
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"To where?" Ry asks. I look back at him. "Gather your things." He runs his fingers through his hair. "You mean 'thing'?"
"Yeah gather your thing," I return the attitude. "And your rifle."
"I'm out of bullets."
"Take it anyway we'll find some."
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"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere else." I pass him and head out the door, walking into the open, windy air, dust blowing around the dark streets of London. It's midday, but green clouds cover the sun from our pale faces. I don't see the sun much anymore. It is distant.
Lightning flashes across the grim sky, making a silhouette from the city buildings... or what's left of the city buildings.
We walk along the sidewalk, not sure of what we'll see next. I start checking cars to see if they will work, breaking the glass of one before unlocking it.
"We should find a boat, head across the sea," Ry says from behind me.
