“Where’d you say you come from, Clem?” came the words of a grey face with a voice cured by age to a smoky tone.
“I didn’t,” said another grey face, in a gruff tone as they slammed a shovel into the ashen earth. “But it doesn’t really matter now does it, old man?”657Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGE82pdMxVM
“Why doesn’t it matter?” said Smokey. “Are you one of them?”
“One of who?”
“One of them,” he said, pausing for a moment from his digging. “Them Antarctisks.”
Clem carried on digging, not looking up at the Smokey voice. Lean muscles on an impressive physique flexed as the shovel cut into the earth. “I ain’t no Antarctisk. I ain’t even young enough to be one,” came the reply, finally.
“Was just a question.”
Clem’s shovel glanced off of a rock as it slammed into the dirt.
“Ever met one then?” continued Smokey, paying no attention to the thickening silence oozing from Clem.
“Nope.” came the response, with a plosive P that rang out with a pop.
“What’s with you, huh? I’m just trying to make conversation here, nothin’ wrong with that is there? ‘Ow ‘bout a Frozen, ever met any while you was wanderin’?”
“No more questions.”
“Alright fella just thought the time might go past a little faster was all. Have it your way.”
“Look, I ain’t much of a talker,” Clem said, straightening up from her digging. She pulled a grubby finger up to her nose and squished down the left nostril. With a loud snort a ball of phlegm was projected from a mouth, expertly aimed so that it arced through the air and landed perfectly between Smokey’s feet. “And I ain’t no fella either,” she finished, and continued with her digging.
***
A cold wind blew across the barren landscape, coming in from the sea and sweeping the ash over the dunes at the edges of the plains and over the ruins of the world from before. Slowly the world was cleansing itself. Organising. Waking up.
***
An eyelid flickered in the dark somewhere.
It was cold, so very cold.
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