you stood straight and rigid behind the parapet of the fortress wall. Rifle resting upon your shoulder pointing up at the sky

You stared at the endless dead land, all life and vegetation killed with poison so that nothing might obstruct the view.

Orphans are not worthy of names. This was what they'd been told their whole lives, anyway. From the day they were born, taken from mothers who had the Flare a nasty virus. But who remembers it?

A figure appeared on the horizon.