You watch the trucks, Toyota's with some kind of gun mounted on it, as men in fatigue systematically

work their way through neighborhoods a few blocks away.

They were coming.

You knew it would happen.

Someone would eventually rise to the top.

There was nothing in particular that made them stand out from the soldiers the government

had used to quell descent, other than the tunders you had just seen, but there was something

about the bravado with which they strolled through the neighborhood.

And even then, towards the end of the government's reign on the city,

they had used militia forces to manage the peace. And you used the term peace quite liberally,

but they weren't like this. You'd like to be able to say that the soldiers that once were there

to keep the peace were less violent and didn't extort the residents, but that'd be a lie.

Times were tough, and despite trying to prepare as much as possible, there simply wasn't enough

food, just not enough to go around.

The winter snows had been a great resource for clean water.

The key was to harvest immediately after the snow had stopped, and to only scoop the first few

inches.

The house had stored water in any container they could find old jugs, mason jars, cat litter

containers, anything.

The basement stayed above freezing, so the containers were stored down there.

And despite the new heating system that you had rigged up that heated the whole house with

wood gasification, the house stayed cool

...