The western horizon was bathed in a golden hue, signaling the end of today's work, while the survivors lined up in the maintenance room carrying the tools and materials they had not used during the day.
Marco counted the quantity and inspected the quality. The stink of sweat vexed him but he endured it until every survivor was examined.
The hard work emptied their stomachs, growling under the scent of food that wafted from the kitchen. Elena, together with a female assistant, ladled out onion soup into a small bowl, and served a plate of meat, vegetables, and rice to the starved survivors.
They gathered at the dining area, in front of the kitchen and behind the reception.
The soldiers observed from the sides, indifferent to the tempting aroma, and listened to the survivors chattering about work, life before the apocalypse, or random topics that relieved the boredom.
