At Noon on a Hill Overlooking Well Town, by Adam Smith

Two men sat atop a hill outside of Well Town.
“Don’t use binoculars,” whispered Vic.
“Why-“
Vic interrupted. “Reflection.”
James raised a hand to his brow, shielding his eyes from the sun. “I see two guards.”
“They’ll double the guard tonight, but I know a secret way.”
“You’ve been here before?”
Vic nodded. “See that burned out church near the fence?”
“Yeah.”
“My work.”
“You burned a church?”
“I needed a diversion.”
“Yeah, but, it’s holy!”
“It’s a box made of wood,” spat Vic.
“But, what about, you know. Hell?”
Vic pointed into the wasteland. “We’re already in Hell, kid.”

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