The Golden Farce
Chapter One Did he remember the taste of the water before it turned to stone? Philippe Gaspard stood at the intake of the desalination plant, the fog pressing against the corrugated steel like a damp cloth over a face. The convoy had been moving for three days, a slower-than-light crawl through the badlands carved by grief and wind, and the kerosene reserves were already gone. He was a repair...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews