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Martha is to the side, out of the shelter of the overhang, arranging the

camping pots and plates the group has carried with them. She is digging

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through backpacks, and Clara and Red step forward into blowing mist to help.

Martha will prepare what the group has gathered in the rain, if need be,

because there isn’t enough room under the overhang for all the activity. The

fire and dry sleeping quarters are more important, in her mind. The three lay

out what has been gathered and washed – water cress, grubs, mushrooms, thistle

flowers, and fish and snake fillets.

Red and Clara are arranging the cress, thistle flowers, and mushrooms on a

plate and passing it to the group huddled under the overhang. Red says,

Here’s your vitamins, eat hearty.

The platter is being passed down the line, each taking a pinch and stuffing it

into their mouths. Danny brightens.

This is not bad! Wish I had some ranch dressing. .. Ah

well.

Martha is at the fire, fish and snake meat in a pan with a little water. She

puts a lit over the pan and nestles it into the fire. Martha has a bowl

filled with the white grubs which are twisting from side to side. Martha takes

a large spoon and starts mashing the grubs, then frothing them with a fork.

She pulls the covered pan out of the fire and using her skirt as a hot pad

lifts the lid, showing cooked fish and snake inside with only a little water

left in the pan. Martha forks the meat onto the platter, which has now been

returned free of salad, and serves up the next course with a smile. She passes

the platter to Red, who can be seen turning to take it to the group huddled

under the overhang.

And here’s your protein – fish and, ahm . . chicken.

Martha pours the frothed grubs into the pan, and holds it over the fire,

stirring feverishly. When the mess looks like cooked egg whites, she quickly

turns and scoops it onto another platter, pulling a sprig of some herb she has

collected during the day from her pocket as a garnish.

And for desert we have pudding.

Billy’s face as he pulls a grub’s brown leg out from between his teeth, his

eyes widening at the sight.

_______________________________

Big Tom and Colonel Cage are out ahead of the others. They round a bend and

stop short. We can't see what they're seeing, but gauge it to be horrific

from the look on their faces. Big Tom glances quickly at Colonel Cage,

understanding passing between them without words, and turns on his heel

quickly to stop the others from rounding the bend. He jogs up to Danny and

Frank who are next in line.

Keep the others back, but send Netty forward.

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Danny nods in understanding while Frank stands stock still, pale and worried,

the continuous trauma and events beyond his ability to cope. He has given up,

essentially.

_______________________________

The scene before Colonel Cage is horrific, even for one with military

training. Some clothing is strewn about, a child's shoe. A man’s shoe and

pant leg, covered in blood. A woman thrown into the bushes, her head bloodied

as though bludgeoned. Danny, Big Tom, Colonel Cage, and Netty stand next to

the fire taking this scene in, their faces grim. Colonel Cage finally breaks

the silence.

I've heard this was going on. Cannibalism. We got some

reports, places where they had the radio up, and they

were under attack like this.

Big Tom is staring at him with an alarmed look on his face, the obvious

thought that they are walking into danger, danger that he hadn't been told

about, on this mind.

What the fuck did you bring us here for! What were you

thinking!

Colonel Cage glances at him briefly, then back at the scene.

We got other reports too, some groups were doing OK,

and I figured out their general location.

His face darkens as he realizes this might not be a local affair.

I hope to God my wife and kids are OK. The general

didn't let any personal calls go through.

Netty says,

We can't let them see this!

Her comment brings them all back to the immediate situation.

We'll tell them there's a washout.

_______________________________

Mark and Brian are floating through a low-lying cloud. The day is continuously

overcast, gray with blowing clouds almost at ground level, and drizzling

continuously. All is gray, and they both are being powdered with a fine

volcanic soot which has turned the pair and their clothing light gray and

streaked. Brian is hanging down below Mark, in a parachute seat, looking

around with wide frightened eyes.

Mark is holding the hot air jet gingerly in his arms, pointed up into a double

parachute arrangement above him. He rarely puffs the jet, as the wind catches

them and propels them with rapid bursts now and then. Mark is using the jet

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sparingly, only when the wind dies down between bursts and they begin to drift

toward the ground.

Below them are flooded farmlands and a town, a church steeple and silo

sticking up above the water, and occasional rooftops with people huddled in

the center. One waves frantically at the floating pair, hoping to be rescued.

Off to the side, in the distance, is a new cliff where the land has been

sheered upward by a couple hundred feet. Shreds of city housing are clinging

to the top of the new cliff, as well as crumpled along the bottom, with

wreckage clinging to the cliff itself.

_______________________________

The group traveling overland has arrived to find the highway bridge they hoped

to use to cross the river in shambles. The middle section of the reinforced

concrete bridge is completely displaced, sticking up from the river, 100 feet

away from where the bridge is, having moved. The day is overcast, as usual,

but as the group is standing on the river bank there is a slight breeze, which

all appreciate. There is no evidence of activity. No boats, no people on

shore, nothing but the expanse of water and the breeze ruffling the calm

surface and the soiled and tattered clothing hanging from the tired bodies of

the group as they arrive, one by one, to look.

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Clara raises her skirts and wades into the water up to her hips, a look of

relief on her face. Seeing this, Billy looks up into his mother's face and

begs.

Mom, can we go swimming?

Big Tom, looking over the torn bridge, is trying to come to grips with the

forces that would have rearranged this familiar landscape.

I wouldn't do that until we learn what might be under