Stories are supposed to have a beginning and an end, so they say. I figure the end will be my death, hopefully not as a slobbering mindless bot. The last chapter has yet to be written. . . so, today, I start in the middle.
2 years have passed since the initial outbreak and Nevada contamination. Sam, my husband, and I were already in SoCo working on a 100% green, off grid living project - a personal permaculture of sorts. The '89 Mallard had been placed, fences were up, pastures…
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