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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With my hurting foot, descending the ladder required my full concentration. When I finally reached the ground at its bottom end, my knees shook from the effort.
We stood at one end of a long hall, at least three times as high as the tunnel above it. Machines as big as the houses in the upper cavern were lined up along one of the walls, and their soft hum filled the warm air. Small electric lamps adorned them, shedding a weak light of green, blue, and red.
There was no apparent exit but the one through the ladder. A dead end. A trap.
And these people might want to snuff me.
Right beside the ladder, they had set up their lair, or at least something that looked like it. Bedrolls, a few candles in glass boxes, crates, and random furniture seemed to combine into a home.
"You're Tim, then." The man who said this sat on a wide chair built from red bricks and apparently made for someone much taller than he was. The backrest towered him. Off-white linen padded the wide seat. His hands rested on a stick he had planted on the ground, and his feet dangled from short legs on both sides of it.
He had the darkest skin I had ever seen. Only the white of his hair and eyes reflected the paltry light.
"Yes, sir," I said. He had to be the one the others called Boss, so it seemed a good idea to show him some respect.
"And why are you here?"
Assuming the others had reported what I had told them in the tunnel above, I repeated the story of me running away, yet I added another piece of the truth. "I had to run because the guards have arrested my father, thinking he's to blame that one of our swamps has stopped draining. But it's one of the pumps down here that doesn't work. It's not my dad's fault. And sooner or later, the bishop will understand this, too. And then he'll send people to investigate."
I let that hang there, wondering what they'd make of it.
"He's only a shit-shoveler, but he's right, Boss." Amy gestured down along the machines that lined the hall. "The one at the very end has changed some of its lights from green to yellow and red. And red ain't good."
Boss nodded. "Right, that might be the case."
"But we don't give a damn," Sam whispered. "We only need the machines for warmth, and it's still warm enough."
Using Lilly's hand for support, Boss descended awkwardly from his throne. Once standing, his head barely reached my chest. Stepping closer to me, he squinted as if to see me more clearly. "You've heard Sam, there." I pointed his thumb at the whisperer. "We shouldn't give a damn, he says. What do you think, Tim? Should we give a damn?"
