"Into the storm cellar. Nobody lives through a Martian sandstorm."
Annie ran after him. "For God's sake take me with you! You can't leave me...."
"Mine's built for one," he said, and pulled the top in over him as he disappeared into the hole.
Annie broke her fingernails pulling at the cover. The wind was blowing sand in her eyes. She saw blood staining the rim of her index finger. She pounded with her fists.
"Let me in!" she screamed. "In the name of God!" But all she heard was the keening sand in the wind.
She looked around. The devil was closer, malignant and hungry. It wanted to eat her alive.
It made her angry.
"I'll fight it," she screamed. "By God, I'll fight!"
Five minutes, she guessed. Maybe five minutes left. She ran into the house, ripped open her suitcase. Bundles of nylon marriage clothes. She began to sob. Some were with lace.
"Fight!" she shouted to herself. There was her oxygen mask. How much oxygen? Anybody's guess. It was made for maybe a few whiffs a day over a period of several months.