Just one more mile.
How long had I been traveling? How many miles had I walked, every step one more towards my goal? Too long, too many, but finally it was going to be over.
Half a mile now.
The key hung around my neck, a reminder with every step of the promise my father made me after the end, before he died. That he had planned for, well not this, but something like it.
A hundred feet or so.
Find the rocks in a circle, pull back the tarp.
Find an already ransacked bunker.
Sigh.
Get back to walking.
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