By Christian Laforet
The whine of repulsor engines drifted through the frozen city. Buildings, which once defied the horizon, were now crooked tombstones with ice and snow clinging to their exteriors. The endless winter blew whistling through gaping windows – snow-drifts as big as small buildings leaned against the bases of sky scrapers.
As the shuttle descended through the tumult of angry clouds, eddies of white powder swirled along the rooftops of the ruined buildings. The transport was only the second sign of life Toronto had seen in nearly five hundred years. The craft landed with a soft thump at the edge of the city.
Marcus unbuckled the harness securing him to the pilot’s seat. Continue reading