If you saw her face, like I did, you’d have seen the fear, the pain, the bare body of one of us. We were what was left. The flu had cast it’s dark hex on man, and none had the odds of hope. Life as we knew it was over. An ache in your legs, the loss of all your hair, and then, boom, your skin is grey and you puke out what you try to eat. With luck, you are dead in ten days, but if not, you may live with this hell for a year, two. The kids went fast. Each tiny body not able to last the bug. The men were the last, just if you were to test beer on us. I’d see Jill fall; the flu was too much for her.

But then, word of a cure gave us hope. This hell had an end. With each wave of our AM/FM we felt one step out of the dark that we call home.

Now we are part of the few left. Jill has only a few days. The flu was no more back home in the US, all has been set back to life. But what did they omit? Us. They did not save the lone post set here in the ice caps of the pole.

With this gun we say bye.

I love you Jill…