Post-apocalyptic futurefic. The late summer sun is high over the base today, hot and intense. Kris tilts his face up and closes his eyes, pretending the hunters got fresh meat today, and that there are rain clouds on the horizon that'll sift cool, clear water down on all their sweaty heads. Everybody has their happy place these days, but Kris tries to make his attainable. There's no point in wishing the last five years never happened, because they did.

It's the apocalypse, and this is the Book of Chuck.