Three months passed before we saw the sun again; its meagre light barely visible through the ashen sky.
We’d reached another dead river. Swollen bodies floated lazily down stream.
“I’m so thirsty,” Ginny moaned. “Can’t I take a tiny sip?”
“You don’t want to end up like these folks, do you? We’ll find another shop soon.”
After we crept out of our storm cellar, we’d been foraging for bottled water in abandoned supermarkets.
“We’ll pick up more iodine. We can use it to purify rainwater,” Mom said. “Here, take a sip from this bottle. It’s time for another iodide pill.”
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