I scrambled down the back stairwell. At the bottom I wedged open a rusted metal door, the never used emergency exit. Of course emergencies still occurred regularly, just now no one did anything.
Outside was brutal. Sandstorms were always intense this time of day.
My watch hummed. Disappearing between shifts was a death sentence. I couldn’t wait much longer.
Through a blizzard of hot stinging sand, The Stranger appeared. I pressed the small vial into his gloved palm, noting his aged, sunburnt face.
“Good luck,” I muttered.
The future of humanity didn’t depend on him.
But it was damn close.
The Weekday One Hundred 