A noirish look at a nuclear winter. Every Tuesday he climbs outside their tunnel and through the old bus and sits on top, in a beach chair, to remember. And today the snow's falling. He remembers how his family was killed in the cold front when the military finally found their rebel hideout. . . The land is covered in snow - who knows how, maybe a bomb, maybe the ice caps melted (highly unlikely), whatever the cause, the snow's freezing to the point of burning. Come, won't you visit this land for just a moment?