Nobody knew what we'd left buried under all that salt and ash, nobody really wanted to find out. Our ancestors left us little more than cave murals and word-of-mouth stories to warn us away from delving down but with the weather turning worse and worse we have no other option.
All the places we'd been told to avoid - Scarborough Mound, Greenthorpe Lake, Stradmire Upon Creechside - all of them were gateways to the old roads of our buried past. At first we were hesitant to use them, too wary of the warnings we'd been fed from birth. When the radars showed a wall of storm noise coming towards us, a wall with no end, the decision was made for us.
I was lucky enough to be closest to Stradmire Upon Creechside which, as it turns out, was one of the more isolated settlements and one that is rarely prone to the ailments of the more populated zones. For instance we have yet to see the mass burial sites that held the remains of those who couldn't make it to the Archangel vessels.
Apparently they don't look as human as we do, they look more like dogs. Whether this is down to an evolutionary shift, plague-induced deformities or their eventual decomposition - who can rightly say? All we know is that none of them were our ancestors, they were the unsaven.
They were remnants of the plague that wiped out most of humanity, the very reason behind the Archangel project that sent the untouched away from Earth and into the moon's graceful orbit. Our ancestors said that this was where they watched the world end from, saw the grey leech life away before they sent pyroclastic warheads to finish the job.
When the first survivors were sent down,all they saw through their hazmat suits was a world of floating grey particles and now, just as we've built ourselves a stable home the world is taking it away from us yet again.
I wonder how the remaining few on the Archangels feel, watching the world end for a second time.
All the places we'd been told to avoid - Scarborough Mound, Greenthorpe Lake, Stradmire Upon Creechside - all of them were gateways to the old roads of our buried past. At first we were hesitant to use them, too wary of the warnings we'd been fed from birth. When the radars showed a wall of storm noise coming towards us, a wall with no end, the decision was made for us.
I was lucky enough to be closest to Stradmire Upon Creechside which, as it turns out, was one of the more isolated settlements and one that is rarely prone to the ailments of the more populated zones. For instance we have yet to see the mass burial sites that held the remains of those who couldn't make it to the Archangel vessels.
Apparently they don't look as human as we do, they look more like dogs. Whether this is down to an evolutionary shift, plague-induced deformities or their eventual decomposition - who can rightly say? All we know is that none of them were our ancestors, they were the unsaven.
They were remnants of the plague that wiped out most of humanity, the very reason behind the Archangel project that sent the untouched away from Earth and into the moon's graceful orbit. Our ancestors said that this was where they watched the world end from, saw the grey leech life away before they sent pyroclastic warheads to finish the job.
When the first survivors were sent down,all they saw through their hazmat suits was a world of floating grey particles and now, just as we've built ourselves a stable home the world is taking it away from us yet again.
I wonder how the remaining few on the Archangels feel, watching the world end for a second time.
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