A Cold Summer Afternoon.

>It's a cold summer afternoon, just like yesterday, just like tomorrow.

>Your black, wool gloves, denim jeans and grey, canvas jacket kept you warm.

>You always kept the hood up.

>The reason you gave was because you lost a lot of heat through your head, but really, you thought the hood complimented your gas-mask.

>Admittedly, the mask did more than you expected to keep the heat in; the plate carrier too.

>Work was mostly uneventful.

>You never realized how insufferable the sound of your own breathing was until you were forced to hear nothing else for hours on end.

>You thought about daydreaming to keep yourself distracted while working, but you found out soon that your imagination got away from you, filling the perpetual fog with demons, and ghosts, and monsters of all sorts.

>Soon enough, the distorted sounds of your breathing became preferable to your inventions that lurked around the corner.

>The sound of compass watch alarm grabs your attention.

>You look down to your arms, which rest on the M4 carbine slung around the front side of your body.

>A flashing blue light was barely visible behind the ash that piled up on your watch and arms.

>You give your arms a good shake, the ash slowly drifting to the ground to gather around your ankles that were hidden underneath the dust.

>Your watch says 1800 hours.

>You take a deep sigh, and take a look at your surroundings.

>Hundreds of dead, limbless, trees surround you.

>Some fallen, but most standing. 

>To the right, near the edge of the fog, about 15 meters, is a man in a level B hazmat suit, inspecting the ground, and working with instruments.

>You shout out to him."Dr. De Paolo. The curfew's in an hour. We need to get going."

>De Paolo springs up at the sound of your voice.

>"Oh good! I thought you were dead!"

>You respond with a sarcastic laugh.

"It gets funnier every time."

>"You know, if you keep still like that, I might confuse you for a rock and start chipping samples off of you."

>He makes himself erect, stretching out his arms and back, giving it a good popping.

>As he relieves some of the tension in his body, you shake the ashes from your boots, and walk over to him."So, what did we learn today?"

>"Well..."

>He pauses for a couple seconds before coming back to life.

>"Oh, I did find something really neat!"

>De Paolo plods through the ashes over to a small backpack laying next to his equipment.

>He digs trough the back pouch and pulls out a Ziploc bag with an angular gem with a reddish-brown hue.

>"Check this out!"

>You grab the package from him, and try to inspect it.

>"You know, you can take it out?"

>You do as he says, and play with the gem in your hands.

>You pull a flashlight out from a pouch in your plate carrier, and shine it at the translucent rock.

>"Neat. Amber?"

>"Amber? No no no no no."

>He takes the rock back, and places it in its bag.

>You take the opportunity to look at your compass watch, and get oriented.

>"It's brookite. It's a mineral that can be found inside veins of gneiss - or schist."

>He tucks the brookite back in his backpack, along with the rest of his equipment, and slings the bag over his shoulder with a grunt.

>You take the first couple steps in the general direction you need to go in, and De Paolo follows suit.

>"So, Anon. If brookite is found in gneiss and schist, what does that mean?"

>You try to think while maintaining a correct direction.

"Uh, well those are metamorphic rocks."

>"Yes?"

"Which means it was formed deep in the ground."

>"Uh huh..."

"And then?"

>"And then how did it get to our site?"

"A mountain probably pushed it up as it was forming."

>"Or?"

"Or a big-ass national park exploded and blew it over here."

>"Exactly!" he says, shaking his index finger, "You're learning pretty quickly."

>He takes a step closer to you, and pats you on the back.

>"Anon, you're a good kid. I'm proud of you."

>With those last words spoken, you and De Paolo spent the rest of the walk to base listening to the sounds of your own breathing, and ashen footsteps, ignoring the temptation to entertain your imaginations of what lurked just beyond your line of sight.

-Anon