The candles never seemed to last long enough and with them being firmly within the depths of winter, the scant few hours of sunlight they had were spent desperately scouring the ruins all around for anything that would burn. They'd long since cleared their immediate surroundings right down to the bones of their long-dead neighbours so their brief trips were now far more dangerous treks deep into the wider community.
They were alone at least, the only ones who'd taken the early warnings seriously and made it to the town's panic bunker before they were sealed in. They didn't even hear the frantic banging or feel the anguished last attempts to break the doors down before the world outside fell into silence and decay.
Now, thirty years later the doors had declared the air clean and the world safe, the doors self-opened and they were turned away to a pile of broken corpses at the doorway and welcomed into a desolate landscape by howling winds and whatever mangled remains hadn't quite managed to die.
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