Christine Johnson - Primeval Drabble
“Who was it?” Gideon asked. “One of ours?”
They were all one of theirs, of course. Even if the body wasn’t from their group of survivors.
There wasn’t much left anyway.
Matt was searching the remains. He held up an ID card, frowning at it in puzzlement before handing it over.
“I haven’t seen one of these in decades,” Gideon murmured, gazing at the stern face on the photo. One end of the card was bloodied. “Poor woman must have stumbled through an anomaly.”
“There’s nothing of use here,” Matt announced.
They hurried away, heading for shelter, not looking back.
They were all one of theirs, of course. Even if the body wasn’t from their group of survivors.
There wasn’t much left anyway.
Matt was searching the remains. He held up an ID card, frowning at it in puzzlement before handing it over.
“I haven’t seen one of these in decades,” Gideon murmured, gazing at the stern face on the photo. One end of the card was bloodied. “Poor woman must have stumbled through an anomaly.”
“There’s nothing of use here,” Matt announced.
They hurried away, heading for shelter, not looking back.