by K. M. Fawkes
Surely history couldn’t be just an unbroken series of disasters. There had to be a point at which things began to go right.
“Why aren’t you celebrating?” asked Anna, placing a hand on his arm. “Why do you look so sad all of a sudden?”
“I’m not sad,” said Brad. “Just thinking.”
“What about?”
“Just something my dad used to say. He said no matter how secure the world seemed, civilization could vanish overnight like a soap bubble. So there was no shame in preparing.”
Anna’s brow creased in concern. “Look where that got him, though. He drove himself mad before the disaster even struck.”
“True, but he wasn’t wrong about the need to prepare.” Brad had no idea what the next day or even the next hour would bring, but some part of him would always be a survivalist now—even if the world somehow managed to right itself. “It’s only because of the skills he taught me that we managed to survive.”
Anna looked thoughtful. “You’re right. I know I can always count on you to keep us safe, Brad.”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Brad said, “but it’s always good to be ready.”
Ready for what, he wasn’t sure; and maybe he didn’t have to know yet. Taking Anna by the hand, Brad pulled her along into the center of the room, where the celebrants were only just beginning their revels.
THE END
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