Chapter 5
Lately, John felt like a moth whenever he found himself at a window, surveying his devastated home below. A week after the first signs of doom on the surface and he still felt just as sick and disturbed by the sight of black craters strewn out in constellations that matched the night sky. Sometimes, when the morbidity of the situation really got to him, he’d start to connect the dots. The northern hemisphere was littered with holes and he replicated some of the bigger constellations during the longer stretches of downtime. It was both gratifying and left his throat tight when there were barely enough craters in the southern half of the world for smaller pictures.
The clouds had cleared to a haze in a few days. There wasn’t any hope in that, though. The scars from the bombs were
