He retreated towards the underground bunker, now called home, his protective suit coughing out a slow trail of smoke behind him. Along the way, he fantasized briefly, disturbingly, about removing the confining suit and sprinting back into the blistering embrace of the sun, unprotected, but warm in the hope that the suffering might end.

This flash of desperate madness passed, and he continued down the path into the shaded canyon leading back to the bunker. He picked up the heavy wrench leaning against the solid steel structure and swung it heavily four times, bang-bang…bang…bang, against the reinforced door. Entry signal received, he could hear the lazy shuffling of the woman on guard duty on the other side as she approached.

She retreated quickly from the swiftly entering heat as the man strode forward into the cooler confines of the bunker lobby.

“Cuttin’ it close, aren’t ya?” said the woman with upturned brow. “You were out there at least ten minutes longer than allowed. Got a death wish do ya?”