Truck

Truck was a big man as his namesake implied with an equally big heart. Most men dropped all pretenses of dignity in the age after the bombs fell. To Truck that made them no better than the animals they named themselves after.

Truck had taken Mouse in as his own daughter after her parents died. He had not told her how it happened. Now he never would.

“Be strong, Mouse,” he often told her, “This world only understands strength.”

Mouse desperately wished that Truck was there. He was always strong. He would know what to do.

“Be strong, my little Mouse.”