520 The Flood, Ch. 33



Chapter Thirty-three

Dozer and Princess were waiting on the stairs leading up to Mount Olympus, right where we parted ways, along with a small group of survivors. One, a young girl, was hugging Princess, and began to cry when she ran to me. 

"It's ok, baby," said her father, looking on the edge of tears himself. "I'm sure we'll find  Mister Snuggles." 

"I don't want my teddy, I want Mama!" she yelled back.

"Me too, baby," is all the dad could say, "Me too."

"Are you hungry?" I asked, offering up the can of food I had scavenged from the debris on the way up the steps. 

"Thank you," the father took the can.

"What is it?" asked the girl. The label was gone, scrubbed away by the water.

"Let's find out," said her dad, peeling the top off the can.

"Ravioli!" shouted the girl, smiling. "But we have no forks." She started to cry again.

"So we use our fingers," the dad dug in and fished out a square of pasta for his daughter. Then, to me, "Thank you."

---

Looking through the wreckage, I managed to find enough supplies to open a little open air restaurant. I painted "free food" on a board, nailed it above my improvised counter, and began the work of rebuilding our world.

It was several weeks before we saw any sign of life from the mainland. Until then, us islanders, as we had taken to calling ourselves, had no idea what life had become. Triple Peaks Island, our new name for the hills I used to inhabit, was our entire world.






Comments

Popular posts from this blog

547 a giving planet

610 totally unrelated

469 who spiked the corona?