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I pulled my hood tighter as I peered out onto the bleak, cold landscape.
Nothing.
As far as the eye could see. Only the minor undulations of the landscape varied. The rest was just flat and snow.
White everywhere. Undoubtedly after this venture I would loathe the sight of it.
It would surely have not been so bad had there been some life, other than ourselves. A beacon of hope, in a land of death. But there was none. Our only hope lay below.
I took a pick. I'd swung one in my youth, and I'd swing one again.
"Right! I don't care what you think your job is, if there's a pick left on the pile, I need you to grab it. We'll save ourselves by the sweat of our brows! STRIKE THE EARTH!"