Day Three Hundred Seven #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

But the hail did not spare those surrounding us. To the last man they were swept away or crushed under boulders of ice.

And there is no sign of Stan. Elijah is sure he is well away from the city. I am sure we have not seen the last of him.

We made it down to the dockside where our vessel had previously berthed. Another was is its place, its back broken, as though dropped from the sky too.

Our ship rode at anchor still out in the roads. Elijah observed me watching it, then took me in tow.

We rounded some buildings and climbed down to the beach.

From there I followed Elijah as we walked to our ship.