Mark's days went by very slowly. In his condition, his body wouldn't allow him much movement and he was forced to lie in his cot day after day after day. The fear of lethargy crept at the edges of his thoughts; the most exercise he received was in getting up to use the bedpan. If it hadn't been for the nutritious food that he forced down his throat every night, Mark was sure he would have become atrophic. Every night that gooey substance was brought to him. Every night he smiled pleasantly and slurped and swallowed and held his tongue until the stuff was gone. It was, apparently, the only available food, and Mark hated the stuff. But he smiled when it was brought to him, because mealtimes meant seeing Maria.

Those moments made the days go by so much faster, and at the same time made the hours leading up to them drag feet through mud. When he was with her, Mark couldn't keep his wits about him. He found himself talking about all sorts of things he had never had an interest in before: pre-dragon politics, agriculture, geography, religion, literature, and random articles that seemed to flow from some endless container of mundane thoughts. He even enjoyed talking Michelangelo and da Vinci.

Eventually they reached the subject of Mark's life. He wasn't sure how the topic came about, but before long he was reciting how he had loathed that one particular teacher, how he had stood up to Dwight Wicks in the fourth grade and received his first black eye, and how he didn't kiss a girl until his last year in high school. He talked about his college days, and his unquenchable youthful desire for adventure. He regaled Maria with stories of pranks he and his roommates had executed, punishments he had weaseled out of, the time he had corrected his teacher and gotten a textbook rewritten. Mark was, it turned out, an engineer and practical genius. He had a penchant for mechanics and machinery, and often spent his free time inventing new and interesting devices and gadgets. His work kept his mind sharp, and his position as tight end for the college team kept his body physically fit.

Maria couldn't hear enough of those. She would listen for hours on end while Mark talked about his football games. The victory over LSU, the comeback against Penn State, the Notre Dame scandal that had fans storming the field: her eyes sparkled as Mark fondly diverted her with his tales.

She informed him of her home in return. There were two levels buried underground near the Grand Canyon that served as both bunker and lodging for the survivors of the scattered human race. Men and women had come together to build a relatively safe haven to wait out the storm that threatened earth and had discovered this one-time fallout shelter amidst the wreckage. It was the perfect location to hide: weapons, ammunition, food, water, and all the commodities of modern living gathered in one impregnable fortress.

"Father and the others found it in a park station on the North Rim. There's not much up there, but there's a road that was mostly closed. Father says the government put it there as an access route for their employees in case something happened, like nuclear war. They wanted everyone 'important' safe and sound in here. Well, the joke was on them. A bunch of tourists and lost townsfolk found it first. Of course, it's not really in the most appealing condition," Maria grimaced at the peeling wallpaper. "But it's underground, so it stays cool in the heat of the day, and, like I said, we have everything we need."