The Dawn: The Bombs Fall

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“I saw the lights again this morning.”

From the corner of his droopy-skinned eye, Zack could see Leonard turning his ration card in a rhythmical ninety degree motion with the regularity of the second hand of a clock. The type that no longer existed. From behind him the calls of the thirsty ricocheted up the corridor, each set of fists jostling their way forward like an angry mob hell bent on revenge. Zack was next in line.

Leonard’s head was bowed, ashamed even to suggest that he had seen the lights again. To make reference to such visions was as good as saying he had a connection to the old world, like a disciple perhaps, or at the very least a prophet. In biblical times they would have crucified him. They would have set murderers free rather than listen to his ideas. They had talked about this before, and Zack had tried to tell The Dreamer that it just wasn’t possible. In fact even today his first thought, the automatic one that arises without conscience or desire, was something along the lines of stupid son of a bitch. But he stifled these words, and if he was honest with himself he knew why. The idea of the lights was so seductive that to even consider it being true was a bigger risk than he could allow himself to take.

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