[b]12th of MidSpring, 38 months and 11 days since the bombs dropped.[/b]

The sun rose over a sickly-Green sky, baking the abandoned ruins of New Greymare in a dry heat which made the town inhospitable (though not uninhabitable) even to mutants. Despite this, a desperate group of survivors had holed up inside, taking an old hotel for shelter as they recuperated from wounds and losses sustained in the last raider attack. It was down to just 4 of them now, everyone else had either fallen in the fight or fled and been separated from the others.

Zim, a gnome and the group’s mechanic, took stock of their remaining supplies. Unfortunately the raiders had been desperate, meaning they fought to the last man and left the survivors with little to loot. 5 cans of beans, 2 cans of spam, half a pack of beef jerky, 3 cloves of garlic and one dead pigeon were all the food left for the 4 of them, it wouldn’t last long. They were fine for ammo, for the time being, but low on gasoline and on manpower.

Zim approached the others, all of them big folk, crowded around an old radio playing static and sighed. As bad as their situation was, it paled in comparison to yesterday. “If it’s alright with you all, I’d like to say a few words for the folks we lost. We’ve not been travelling together long, and some of us less time than others, but I’m sure we all lost someone important to us in that last attack, and in the last few weeks. Bill, Kat, Juanita, Grud, Stephan, Eldarion, Mary-Belle, Whitman, I know I’ll never forget Jane, that woman saved my life a dozen times....I guess what I’m trying to get at is, we won’t ever forget them. But we can’t sit around feeling sorry for ourselves, not right now. They died, so we could live, and I’m not gonna let that be for nothing. We don’t know when the next attack will be, but we have to be ready for it when it comes. If you guys have grieving to do, I suggest you save it in your heart until later, ‘cause right now we gotta get to scavenging and during up our defences. We can’t stay here too much longer but if we don’t find some fuel and food, we can’t exactly leave. So, does anybody have a plan? I can try to siphon fuel outta cars outside, maybe one of you could search for food?” Zim nervously fiddled with a screwdriver in his pocket, trying to think of the right words. He was never much of a speech-maker, especially not on sad occasions. He was better when it was a celebration, but he didn’t anticipate one of those for some time.