Some people called themselves preppers, and kept one prudent eye on the possibility of trouble Tom lived the fear every single day and let it consume him.
Fed by the internet on a steady diet of paranoia and hysteria, he slowly became a virtual shut-in, hoarding supplies for what he anticipated was the impending end of the world.
Tom had retreated to the safety of his house not long after the twenty-first century became the age of terrorism and insidious fear. He revelled in drilling down to the virtual truth, and ultimately in feeding his bottomless cynicism and distrust of everyone that wasn't Kyle. When online he had a presence, and an impressively comprehensive knowledge of where and how to get at information that others didn't even know existed. The truth was that Tom was the life and soul of the party, as long as the party in question took place in the virtual world. Kyle loved him, but he was under no illusions: his younger brother was intense and awkward the kind of guy that made other passengers uncomfortable on buses. For a guy who talked as little as Tom did, repetition of anything was generally a bad sign. It wasn't the first time since they had entered the van that his brother had voiced his concerns. Instead it came from the rear of the van. The voice might have come from Kyle's subconscious. Something that went beyond the dubious stains left by the previous owner.
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