Day 2,075

They shuffle through the forest tending to the trees, unable to stand upright thanks to the clusters of tumours that almost look like horns from a safe distance. They tend to walk with these growths barely scraping the floor, resting heavily on them whenever they can. The forest would be silent as the rest of the county were it not for their staggered breathing and barely concealed groans of pain.

When the bunkers told us the air was safe to breathe they were the first ones out, most of us choosing to remain hidden for just a little longer. The growths developed in mere hours and out of the thousand to flee into the sunlight, scarcely a hundred are still alive and tending to the trees.

The air is far more settled now, softer and easier to breathe through the eight required filters. When there are enough trees we'll be able to breathe clean air again, unfiltered without the slightest trace of iron which tells us that the corrosion has reached our lungs again.

I haven't told the rest of my bunker that I've given away all but five of my "lifetime supply" of filters that were stored in my chamber. Better to let them have a little longer while I hide my dissolving teeth and nose and enjoy each breeze that blows through my patchy hair, temporarily forgetting the danger it carries with it.