Post-Apocalyptic
Frozen Horizon
The air recyclers hummed their familiar drone as I packed my meager belongings. Bunker 42 had been home for ten years—since the bombs fell and the world turned to ash and ice.
The air recyclers hummed their familiar drone as I packed my meager belongings. Bunker 42 had been home for ten years—since the bombs fell and the world turned to ash and ice.