Shannara Wall

The Departure

The elderly gentleman woke for the fifteenth time that night, or so it felt that way. He had not slept well for years, the cold grey walls seemed to press around him more and more with each passing day, the chill seeping into his soul. He stared up at the ceiling momentarily before leaving the warm stretcher bed behind, forcing his tired body to get dressed. His knees cracking in malcontent, the man staggered to the bedroom door. Staring at the dull silver doorknob that led out of the bedroom, the man took a shaky breath. He gazed solemnly at his hands for a moment, the arthritis that crept into his joints seemed to be the only thriving thing in this bunker.