It had been a month since the blast.
When it came, using the newly developed destruction technology, the super-atomic blast set off a chain reaction that no one could have predicted. It set in motion a fiery wave that over a couple of days enveloped the planet. It left the entire surface incinerated. No buildings were left standing and no vegetation survived. The devastation was complete, with bomb shelters across all continents proving useless against the global destruction… save one.
Theirs was deeper than any of the other structures that were described in the brochures. He’d hired a bobcat and created a pit three times deeper than the foundations of anything else on the market. Maybe it was just a case of simple paranoia on his part. Either way, she had let him spend months doing it.
After several long discussions about whether it was safe to emerge, they made the exhausting climb up the rungs inside the tube that connected their shelter to the upper world. They came out confronting the wasteland. It was dusk, but the landscape was visible enough to let them know what they were dealing with; what they would have to do to survive. If survival was at all possible. The stars were still there! Despite there being strange odours in the air, they had no problem breathing and the temperature was reasonable. For this reason they decided to lay on the blackened soil and sleep the night.
The next day, with the sun rising, he went for a walk. This being his regular habit before mankind had ruined the world. On his return he found her awake and told her of his discovery. She was intrigued, and happily followed him to the spot where he had found it.
A tree! A solitary tree, standing in the vast grey desert that the holocaust had left behind. Even more remarkable was the fact that it bore a piece of fruit!
“That’s amazing,” she said.
“I know,” he replied. “It’ll make a nice change from all that canned food. We’ll share it.” He went to pick the shiny apple.
“Hold on,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“I’m not sure…” she said.