The dumpster had been a temporary hiding place, a safe spot to rest, regain her strength. When the bomb went off it had rung like a bell.
Her mind had raced: how well protected from the radiation was she? Should she stuff torn bits of cardboard into the cracks to keep out the toxic smoke? What if the buildings around her caught fire? When none of her immediate fears realized, she allowed herself to relax and sleep.
Six days later it rained hard. Would the fallout have been washed away? It didn’t matter: she was out of scrounged snack food.
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