Tim, a garbage handler in a post-apocalyptic bunker, loses the little he has. But then he finds Amy, the redhead with an attitude. Together, they will try to change the world they live in.
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Tim is one of those who shovel the shit and clean away th...
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When I opened my eyes in the morning, cold had seeped into my limbs. My sight still blurry, I looked for Amy, expecting to find her next to me. But she had left—only the backpack from the Engineers' quarters was still there.
Wide awake now, I sat up.
The brilliance of yesterday's sky had turned into a pale shroud, and a faint breeze carried a chill onto my damp clothes.
I remembered the angry hiss of last night. Worrying for Amy, I got up and scanned the landscape.
She stood in a meadow near the water, gazing into the sky and holding out her hands. The strands of her hair were dark copper.
Relieved and angry at the same time, I called out, "Hey, what the fuck are you doing there?"
"Don't ye talk like me." She motioned me to come over. "Ye'd better move your ass 'ere. Check this out."
As I left the shelter of the tree, faint drops of water fell on my skin. I knew what this was. It came from the clouds—rain. The manuals, the ones in the temple, talked about it. They said that the rain first had brought life.
And then it had brought death.
Amy's smile looked alive, though, and her eyes sparkled.
"Where does all this water come from?" she asked.
I pointed upwards. "It's from the clouds. It's called rain. That's what the manuals say. The bishop's manuals."
"I like the rain, then. But it's a bit chilly." She rubbed her arms and strode back to our tree.
I followed her.
"What now?" She crossed her arms and smiled at me. Her wet shirt clung to her breasts.
I looked away and studied the scenery, searching for something to say. "I wonder if this place is safe."
"Sure it is, and if it ain't, we'll kick its fat, green ass." She rummaged in her backpack and pulled out the pistol we had found when leaving the bunker.
I had completely forgotten about the thing.
She turned it in her hands, looking at it from all sides. "How does this work?"
"I don't know." The only gun I had ever seen was Wolfe's, and he wasn't one to show it around.
"Yer captain held it like that." She gripped it by its handle and stood with her legs apart—her eyes two menacing slits.
