It was 9:45 on Wednesday morning before Evan walked into the office. He was greeted by the receptionist as he strode down the hallway to his office. He stopped at Laura’s desk long enough to say, “Please tell Mr. Sinclair’s assistant that I request a meeting with him before noon.” He darted into his office and began to unpack paper from his briefcase, sorting it out on his desk in three different piles. Evan knew what was going to happen this morning and he was setting up the files of material in his mind as well as paper on his desk. A few minutes later Laura came into his office. Standing in front of his desk she said, “His assistant said that she would relay the message and let me know his response.” Evan looked up to see that Laura was looking a bit nervous. He gave her a warm smile and said, “Calm down, darlin’. Everything will be fine and I’ll make certain that you are involved in anything important.” She stood there quietly, looking into his eyes hoping to find some. She would have seen that the rest of our bodies were covered by a motley assemblage of padded garments, scuba-diving wetsuits, and thickly wrapped leathers. All with as many pockets-within-pockets as possible; as your basic slug-thrower gun only had a tenth the ammo capacity of a modern pulse weapon. Every bullet precious, and needed. No such thing as a spare clip. That and food. What there was of it.Oddly, actually getting enough food was often less of a problem than one might have expected in the apocalyptic wasteland that the country – and the world found themselves in. My band had actually survived the eight years since E-day almost entirely on pre-packaged, processed food-stuffs preserved to last for the long haul. But actually eating it was a whole 'nother ball game. Not that all of us that started out eight years ago were still alive.Even though the woman perched on the broken wall couldn't really make out our faces; just the fact that we were walking, wearing clothes, and.
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