Bugs on the Wasteland
Dick Harris had been clearing radioactive debris for eleven years. He was not proud of it. He was not ashamed of it. It was a job, and jobs were what you did until they stopped. The waste site was in western New Mexico, past the point where the paved road gave way to gravel and the gravel gave way to nothing. The sky was the colour of dirty dishwater. The ground was the colour of ash. The wind...
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