Snippet #1528156

Brass

The wind howled over the sight of the barren wastelands around the small suburb, dust and dirt blowing in the air. The unique sound of these materials hitting the added on metal siding of the few houses that had been crudly refurbished also chimed, plinking and clingingly lightly. It was almost like some sort of dust-storm....but it was the ash. Ash, and the blackened dirt of the ground swirled with the wind, blocking up vision for those with eye protection, and blinding those without...

Luckily, Brass was amongst the former.

Brass looked out of the high window from the basement in which he had made his shelter in. The narrow crawlspace window maybe was enough for a small animal to fit through, but enough for one to get a view out of. Brass slid the window closed, and got down from the stool that he had to use to look out of the said window. He moved around the shelter, looking around and making sure that everything was working the way it should. The shelter was quite large for a basement, and could comfortably fit fifteen or more people. In the farthest corner, there was a large stove, which provided the area with heat..not that they desperately needed it at this point of the day. But over the decent flame inside was a thin soup of wild potatoes, carrots, onions, and a bit of left over animal meat (he was half-certain it was deer meat, but he was sure whomever indulged would simply appreciate it.) in a weak broth. There were a few sleeping bags scattered here and there, as well as a few bedrolls. They had been just deloused, and given the closest thing to a cleaning that could be. There were a few pails of clean drinking water near the stove, in a cooler. And his workbench was populated with his gunsmithing tools. Everything was as it should be.

The basement shelter seemed to be in good condition, and has four solid walls and a solid roof. Which was questionable about other buildings. He walked over to the generator that sputtered softly in the corner as it charged, offering a few cranks of the handle. The generator hummed to life, and the electricity surged into the power strip. Plugged into it, was a very, very old, damaged, and ill-treated CD player. He pressed the open button, to make sure the CD was still inside, before pressing the power button, the electronic device jumping to start. Brass smiled as one of the few CDs he had collected from junkers over the years. The compact disc had been half scratched, but worked,. The title on the front read "Rise Against.". Odd band name... but they played respectable, entertaining music. The first song came in quietly, and grew louder as he sat next to it, his foot tapping.... Brass felt himself waiting for the first of few visitors he'd have today. The people that would stop for a meal, stop for rest... or even some of the few wasteland treckkers that came by and had him fix up their weapons.

Brass waited... He knew they would be some soon.