The world of Larry Sawer and every other human being still alive was about to change, but not necessarily for the better. Some shackles abrasively gnawed the flesh while others consumed the mind, with everyone captive in a world gone mad.
Above the entrance to prison E52 languished the words Ultima Thule, Latin for End of the World. A more sinister rubric could not have been chosen, almost prophetic in nature.
While the other prisoners joining him in the back of the truck as they bounced along on the rutted mud road saw only painful suffering and death in their near future, Larry had a different vision. For in the presence of mounting despair, he clung to the hope of an ancient promise giving him an unnatural sense of peace.
The day of that promise was fast approaching, and he only had to hold out a little longer. The count of that day was 2520.
Above the entrance to prison E52 languished the words Ultima Thule, Latin for End of the World. A more sinister rubric could not have been chosen, almost prophetic in nature.
While the other prisoners joining him in the back of the truck as they bounced along on the rutted mud road saw only painful suffering and death in their near future, Larry had a different vision. For in the presence of mounting despair, he clung to the hope of an ancient promise giving him an unnatural sense of peace.
The day of that promise was fast approaching, and he only had to hold out a little longer. The count of that day was 2520.
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