[ WP ] `` It 's just the rain ''

She was curled up in a ball, surrounded by singed, dirty blankets. I stood over her. It was too cold for me to sleep, and I thought I could feel a rain coming. 
 
 
 Our camp was small but it was good. There was a small brook five minutes down a small, twisting path through the thick trees. We had plenty of water, and enough food to survive; she was good at plucking Crawdads out from under rocks when the hunt was scarce. 
 
 
 We ran out of scrap metal last night. We used most of it up on the long walk up here, and we tried to make due with what we had. It didn ’ t last long. Wandering scrappers never make it far; we came all the way up from the city lugging hunks of metal, and I knew we would be caught eventually. 
 
 
 A drop of rain hit my arm. I felt the pain, like someone snubbed a cigarette out on my skin, and smelt the familiar whiff of burning skin. It was going to start any second. 
 
 
 On the way up, we saw so many burners. I covered her eyes as we passed camps of idiots who didn ’ t shield themselves from the rain. I thought we were different. I thought we could make it. I didn ’ t think we ’ d end up like them; charred slabs of burnt out flesh. 
 
 
 She still had a chance. She was smart. Maybe it wouldn ’ t rain for weeks after tonight. Maybe she could buy herself a few days of searching. 
 
 
 I kneeled down beside her. She was a small girl, and a deep sleeper. I placed my body on top of hers. 
 
 
 “ Dad- What- ” she muttered, half asleep. “ What ’ s going on… ” her voice trailed off, muffled by exhaustion and the pressure of my weight. 
 
 
 “ It ’ s just the rain, sweetheart. ” 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

