Love, Ashley
The ground was pliable, which could mean any number of things, but he hoped it meant a bunker. She was asleep in his arms, her head awkwardly turned against his shoulder. The masks made it difficult to rest one’s head on another, but the comfort of her slowly breathing body was worth the awkwardness of the position. He laid her down gently in the grass, adjusted her mask, and walked the few paces back to where he’d felt the soft ground. He knelt to it and pushed against the softness with his hands. There was a significant demarcation between the solid ground and the soft soil. He followed that demarcation with his fingers. It formed a small rectangle, in the shape of a door. His sweat ran down his forehead, and for the first time in a long time, he felt his breath beating back at him beneath his mask. His fingers continued to dance upon the grass until they came upon a latch hidden beneath a clump of wet leaves.
