The sun reflected off of the oily surface and threw up a scent that reminded the major of time spent in theme parks and on walking trails. Twisted piles of former cars stretched for half of a mile down both shoulders of the road to create an iron canyon. The next traveler to find the site might see it as a sign of hope. Perhaps thinking that a reconstituted government had reorganized to the point of assigning road crews. The major knew better. There was no hope. Whatever optimism he had once had in a new world had faded with the passing of his wife and grandson. Since then, life had been only a brutal struggle to survive. Often, he questioned his own persistence. He had lost two sons and a daughter-in-law during the apocalypse. The passing of his wife and grandson a year later removed from him all personal interest in living. He supposed he had a new family to protect, but they were no substitute. In the end, he always attributed his pursuit of survival to his stubborn nature. His wife used to tease him about it.
What do You think about Post-Apocalyptic Nomadic Warriors?
