singing in the rain

chapter 2 of resistance.

Klaus stood, panting in the bright morning sun. the 4 kilometre run was no joke, and every fibre of muscle in his legs felt as though they were already stretched to their breaking point. Exhausted, he plopped himself down on the cold, concrete floor, and breathed out deeply. The events of the day before seemed like a dream, terrible, sudden and surreal. He still had trouble believing it had happened. 

The safe house stood as always, a monolith, and a monument to human ingenuity. Honestly, it was nothing much more than a little run-down church, with grenade-broken walls, and bullet riddled doors. But the resistance had flourished here, much more than expected. Their numbers were steadily growing and most people were living normally there, away from the violence of the world. Poetic, really, Klaus thought, that the world was changing so rapidly all around, but there was still this small slice of heaven, right there, right then, in the shady little ruin of a church.