The walk back to the city had been shorter than Montag had expected. The food they had eaten gave them energy, much more energy than when Montag had run out from the city and swam across the river. The whole world had gone silent, and everything coated with dust. When a wind blew by, every man immediately covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve, but it was no use, so they coughed and coughed.

When they reached the city, there was rubble everywhere. A once perfect society now blown apart, shattered glass littered the ground. The city had fallen apart, and nothing stirred. Montag began to poke around and look for signs of life. The other men did the same, on and on, until they had reached Elm Grove Park.

"The Hound," breathed Montag suddenly. The others looked at him.

"Are you sure?" asked Granger.

"Positive," said Montag, "See look! There is one of its legs."

The Hound had been blasted to pieces after the bomb hit. Two of its legs were scattered around the dust covered pavement. The other six were missing, its body at the top of a pile of rubble and its head was nowhere to be seen.

"Can the Hound come back to life and attack?" questioned Dr. Simmons, breaking the silence.

"I hope not," said Montag softly. The group journeyed on until Montag suddenly realized he was standing in the place where he had first ran into Clarisse McLellan.

This is the place, he thought, Though it may be unrecognizable, I can feel it. I was here!

Suddenly, a piercing shriek broke the silence that has stood for so long between the men. Granger jerked up from the ground and backed away from the mess he was inspecting.

"Help!" a distant voice called out.

Millie, thought Montag frantically, That's Millie!

All the men began to back away and Granger grabbed Montag's collar as he tried to move forward.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" Granger hissed at him.

"That's my wife! Let me go!"

"I thought you said you didn't miss her! You told me yourself. Now back away before we run off without you."

Montag pulled himself from Granger's grasp and ran through the clearing to the house. He began to move the cement and tiling away, digging for an open passage. Finally, Montag managed to free a large stone and get in. He pulled himself through the hole and felt his way to a wall.

"Millie?" he said, his voice hoarse.

"Montag," came the soft, feeble response.

Montag hurried over the where the voice was coming from. He knelt down and found Millie on the floor, under the weight of a massive rock.

"Montag, get the flashlight from over there," she said weakly, "I couldn't reach it."

Montag grabbed the flashlight and turned it on. The sight he saw made him gasp. Millie was on the floor, her stomach bleeding from a jagged edge of the rock. Her sides were bruised and her face, tear streaked and gaunt.

"Millie, what happened?" asked Montag as he tried to move the rock without doing any more damage to Millie.

"I was down here watching our old TV when there was a crash and everything fell down," she said gasping for breath, "I haven't eaten in day. I know I haven't much time left." Mille didn't say what she had been watching, but Montag knew she was watching the chase. As she spoke, her voice was slightly shaky, but determined and resolute.

"No," said Montag forcefully, "I'll give you some water and food… and I'll get you out of there-"

"An you might find that you'll need the food and water you gave me someday," Millie cut in.

As Montag opened his mouth to protest, Millie shook her head and said, "I think my wounds are infected. I've been lying here for two days now. I wouldn't make it through the night, even if you get me out."

Montag grew silent in thinking about the years where he hadn't a proper conversation with Millie. And yet, she had not questioned it when he was supposed to be dead and showed up.

"Did you ever remember where we first met?" asked Millie.

"Chicago," said Montag with a faint smile.

"Chicago," sighed Millie wistfully, "I don't remember much of it, but is must have been special."

"We were much younger and inexperienced."

"But we were happy."

Montag sighed. If only they had talked years before.

"Go to Chicago again for me someday, will you?" asked Millie.

"Yes, I will."

"Good," breathed Millie, and with that, she closed her eyes and her head rested on the floor. Montag began to cry for the people he would never see again. Millie, Faber, Clarisse, and even Beatty.

Finally, Montag picked himself off the floor, found the stairs, and made his way out. The men had gone up First Avenue. Montag ran up to catch them. He would lead them to Chicago, a new place of promise. He could start anew there. Slowly start introducing books. Make the world what it once was, like when Shakespeare was alive. To find a future, and live for real this time.