1976, June 21st. You think. You'd been keeping track of the days in your diary, for the past year. You used your binoculars to look around from the top of Amnick Hill, to observe the valley. Amnick Valley, the place you lived, always have. And the place the bombs didn't hit, every other town, city, village, every civilization was gone. Sometimes you wondered if you were the last person in the world. You knew your parents or Mr and Mrs Mann who lived a few miles up the valley, or Mr Watson who owned the valley shop, your cousins, siblings, they weren't coming back. You'd banned yourself from thinking so as well. They were dead, they had went back to find help. You knew it wouldn't end well

Your dog, Faro, or your cousin David's dog ran up behind you. He was skinny had brown hair, a German shepherd. You went down the hill, you'd down your things, checked the crop, fed the animals, got water from Amnick Brook, milked the cow and collected the eggs. You had a lot of responsibility for a 17 year old, who was alone

The next day, you were coming back to your house to collect the Keys to the Barn when you stopped, looking from down the hill. You saw something...Someone! In an army uniform, they were about 30 meters away from you, but they hadn't noticed you behind the trees. You kept back, they had a gun, you wanted to run up and touch their face, but you couldn't. You had to stay vigilant

A few days had passed now, you'd watched from the hidden cave up the hill. The man had changed, showered in the creek, changed into your father's old clothes, probably thinking everyone who lived her was dead like everyone else