They are as smart as they are ruthless. That's why they've been around for all five years.

The lucky ones died in the blasts. They were spared the fate of starvation, cannibalism, rape and slaughter. Where a man could be killed over half-eaten can of corn.

When the bombs fell, it wasn't a war; it was an obliteration. No one had any idea who shot first or why.

Deep within the web of pavement and steel, a young boy and girl scurried past an old man, his outdated mechanical limbs shaking and twitching like an addict without a fix. He scowled at the hoodlums, scratching the hole in his face where his nose used to be, sold long ago as a cheap replacement part for someone slightly richer than he was.

They were like her rocks. Imperfect and surprising and maybe better in the long run than certainties. Chances, she thought, were life

You can keep your paper promises
and all your worldly treasures.
But you cannot buy peace of mind
or escape from the headstone garden.

Lyrics from "Headstone Garden" by the Troubled Land Band at the Independence Day celebration 12 years after the impact that destroyed civilization.