A Roof Over Her Head

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Photo prompt: Michael Gaida @ Pixabay.com

 

It looked deserted from the outside, and if someone risked a broken neck to view the inside from the roof, it did not look all that more promising from that angle, either, which was exactly as intended.

It would not do to broadcast the availability of shelter when there were more who sought to ruin what was left than wanted to actually have a roof over theirs.

Better it appeared abandoned and on its last legs already.

The rules were clear: You do not venture out of the pits without permission, and never in daylight. No light allowed during nighttime. Night-vision goggles only. The internal covers at the bottom of pits, which obscured the actual bunker, were to be drawn only after the scopes ensured no one was in the perimeter. The motion sensors were examined weekly. The roof’s latches every other. They could take no risks.

Few had a roof over their heads since the cataclysm, and those who had been fortunate to find or be allowed under one, did best if they kept a low profile or they were certain to lose it. The roof. And the head.

Dingo knew all that.

He also knew that Marlee was out there somewhere, and that the only way for her to find him was for him to plant a signal she would recognize.

How, though, when he was still a Probational and wouldn’t be trusted to come topside without escort for another month?

He tossed and turned on his berth until Steven threw him out, ordering him to go jog on one of the treadmills till he got sleepy.

The common room was empty. The airlock doors blinked slowly to indicate the pit covers had been opened.

It won’t take but a moment to leave Marlee a sign.

 

 

 

For theΒ FFFC photo prompt

 

24 thoughts on “A Roof Over Her Head

    • Thank you! Who knows … πŸ˜‰ eh? The first book I’d written “Outlawed Hope”, is a dystopian novel. One could say that “Apples in Applath” has some aspects of it, too. With some other things in process … who knows where this might go … πŸ˜‰

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      • But I also understand, as a fellow writer, the need to stay on focus. My backburner and ideas cupboard brimmeth, and I get impatient to get at it. But… discipline (not a word that’s usually associated with me)

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      • My backburner and cupbord brimmeths too … πŸ˜‰ (Love the image!)
        It is about finding a way to carve out time for me, and not just the half-hour here and there that allow the quick posting on the blog. Some days I dream of writing full-time and then I think of how much the children and families I work with enrich my life and … well … focus and balance is what makes me build more cupboards in my mind to stash the extra brimmethings … πŸ˜‰

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      • In 2005, three years into what was to become 13 years of ME/CFS, I’d taken a long Christmas break. And so thoroughly enjoyed the freedom to write dawn to dusk. The day I was due back at work, I said, Oh to be able to stay home and write fulltime. I went into work. The CEO called me into his office, and said, alas, we have to make cuts, and because of the time you’ve had off with your illness, we’ve decided to let you go.
        I tried to hold onto my emotions until away from the workplace. Then I whooped and high-fived the air. Oh Yay! I thank you God. Though it must be said, I was ill. And having to downsize everything, cope with ongoing financial commitments etc, didn’t help any. But, I then took early retirement. So yea, I write all day. Three years back I discovered a cure for ME/CFS, a few months ahead of the book published by former NHS doctor Sarah Myhill, which quotes the same cure. She left the NHS to be able to treat her patients, cos it wasn’t what the powers to be considered suitable treatment.
        And still there’s not enough hours in the day!

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      • Sometimes the Universe lets one know that their decision is the right one, no matter the monkey chatter … πŸ™‚ So glad it worked for you! (And glad you are feeling better!)
        Yay to writing full time!
        It may be what I do in the future. In the meanwhile, it is what it needs to be. πŸ™‚

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  1. This is a tough one. It sounds like he found safety in a world where that is scarce. How can he throw it away and risk all their lives for one person no matter how much he cares for her? How can he let her die out there? Good one.

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