The Distant Temple
The first crack appeared at 0400. It was a thin line, no wider than a hair, running from the ceiling down the north wall. You counted the hours until dawn. You weighed the food in the tin can, measuring out the last of the canned peaches for Lily. She was eight, small for her age, with a cough that rattled in the back of her throat like loose gravel. The bunker was cold. The heating unit had...
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