“What do I call you?” Dusty asks.
“My crew call me Rattle, I ’spose you can call me Rat,” Rat replies.
“Let’s go then Rat,” says Dusty, who’s not at all perturbed by the name.
Together they pace closer to the epicentre of the blast against the tide of people trying to escape the city. No one stops to talk, they all have their heads down, charging in a single direction, out.
The buildings become more battered and scarred, glass windows appear as open mouthed silent screams with jagged glass teeth. The road gives way to large open cracks and craters where larger pieces of building had fallen. Eventually they come to a four foot high ridge of rubble and carefully they scale it to see what lies on the other side.
Standing on the edge of an enormous crater they peer into the acrid smoke. L
