His brother is up at the site every day, and he is preparing for the return of the miners. After this long without food, their systems will need to be brought back up to a normal metabolic rate slowly using specialized easily digested foods. He’s prepared a good deal of these foods, finely ground grains that essentially look like mush. He says it is almost how you’d bring a newborn infant up to adult foods, but it can be done more quickly than the year it would take for an infant.

This community feels like a place of deja vu of life before. There are so many people here, it actually feels like a community, like there should be a park district and a little league, ice cream parlors and pizza joints. There aren’t many places like this left in the world. Most people moved into the cities for the companionship, or, if they were up to the survival challenges, stayed in the countryside, living off the land by hunting and farming.  A group of people actually living and working together.

The community is right now a restless place to stay. The comings and going from the site are round the clock, and all members of the community are contributing. There are a small number of female miners, but all the wives and women of the community are capable of the physical demands of subsistence living. They have gone into a high activity mode since the collapse, pushing to produce more support resources. They pump and carry more fresh water from the groundwater wells, carry it to the site, gather and harvest more food, haul more waste away from the excavations, their backs are as broken as the men who have been down in the shaft for over a week now.

For the most part, they ignore the thought that hangs over everybody’s heads, that the men trapped in the mine will never make it out again. The several that I’ve talked to all deny the possibility, say they will not allow the thought into their heads.

“We’ll get them out,” is what they say to themselves, between themselves, and they believe it.

It is frustrating to me to be trapped here. Still, I’ve heard some strange rumblings at night near my room, but cannot place them. There’s a lot of unknown  people coming through. Most of the people in the community think they are a blessing, some think they are only here to find a place where survival is provided. I understand the need to belong to something these days, and they say they will attempt to provide if the new comers stay, but that contingency is after they find the trapped miners. I hope all of these people have good intentions. Found more graffiti today in three places, all saying the same thing, “1,000 years to rain.” Don’t know what it means, and neither does anybody else. People who would leave graffiti in a time like this are bad news, if you ask me.

There doesn’t seem to be any one person in charge, but several leaders are emerging from the men here. The situation looks more and more dire, but the men and their families refuse to give up hope.

The End of the World Times and its reporters run on your generous donations.

They looked like typical navy boys, lean and muscled, maybe a little more muscled than before, Navy crew cuts and harshly angular faces. They stood six feet tall like a matched pair, and wore uniforms that were perfectly creased but bore the stains of years of use. One had a large radial scar along the side of his head, patches where the hair wasn’t growing. I could tell he didn’t mind seeing me like this, a little smirk on his face. The other wasn’t much better, had the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and somehow they made him menacing, like a blind fighter.

“Here, let me get that,” the doc smiled. It was almost gentlemanly, if that exists anymore. Clean cut gray hair, not a crew like the others, soft features and a light build.

“Is there a curtain or something?” I asked.

“Oh, they’re here to guard you.” He must have picked up my look of confusion. “Oh, not from me. From anything. Anything that may happen. New woman on base, you never know what may happen.”

“Then shouldn’t they be looking out to the hall?”

“They’re also witnesses. Base commander will have no further mishaps regarding you or the tidewater delegation.”

I pulled on my top with a bared teeth scowl, making it clear that whatever the base commander wouldn’t allow, there are things I wouldn’t allow either.

“When can I go? And where are the others?”

“They are waiting for us to finish. Base Commander is busy today, but is making some time for them.”

“Take me to them.” I sat bolt upright, painfully fast, and began to grab the last of my things. The guards still stared at me. I’d put on a top, pulled on my vest, but to them I’d never have any clothes on again. Couldn’t do much about it until I got rid of them, presumably when I got back with Oleg and the others. Assholes.

“Don’t you want to see your x-ray?”

I stopped dead in my thought there. X-Ray? How do you do x-rays in these days, and that’s when it hit me. There were lights on overhead. And a fan going in the corner. It wasn’t air conditioning, but it was better than suffering through it.

“Where are you getting your power?”

He smiled at me, but picked up my x-rays anyways.

“It’s one rib, bullet must have hit you directly on it, and hard, too.”

“It was a rifle, 30 odd 6 maybe.”

“Maybe. It did enough damage. Be thankful you had that vest on. Who did it?”

“They don’t know. Come on, tell me where you get your power.”

“If the Base Commander wants you to know he’ll tell you.”

I figured that was the end of that subject. He held the x-rays up to the lights. Yep. Broken. No doubt.

“That was a kill shot. Dead on your heart. Even with the vest, broken rib could have punctured something, internal bleeding might have done you in. You’re lucky I don’t see any evidence of it.”

“Ok. Great, let’s go back to Oleg.”

“You really should take it easy.”

I snatched the x-rays out of his hands and pointed to two lumps on my right side.

“Training accident, took a good kick to the sides, was back in the ring in two days. And here,” I pointed to another on my left side. “Bastard got a lucky shot in with the butt of a combat knife while on break and traveling through a bad neighborhood. I broke both his arms and left him. Can we go now?”

I walked out on him, leaving him to catch up.

He directed me to where Oleg and the others were waiting. And this is where we wait.