Weekend Fiction - The Stronghold

This is a story I wrote for a 'Flash Fiction' website.  Only 318 words!

A very sweaty, very fat man with a rifle paces back and forth at the top of the wall.  He is guarding the only entrance, but he is more for effect than for any real purpose.  An entire army would be unable to break down these doors.  Made of an unknown metal, the entire fortress, let alone the doors are a relic of a long forgotten time.

The most ancient texts in the archives refer to the construction of the Stronghold as the last hope of the people, but the threat to be avoided was omitted from even those texts.  Most of the collective wisdom of humanity was lost when the 'terms went dark.

Now, those of us who are left gather at the doors of the Stronghold each day.  On the days when the doors open, laborers are brought in to toil in exchange for a brick of SynFood.

I have been coming each day since I was a boy.  Today though is different.  Today, I have come for another reason.  During the last dark season; as I was exploring the caves near the village, I stumbled across a camp of the ancients.  Inside the remains of a vehicle; I found a trunk containing a rifle much like the one carried by the sweaty fat man.  Also, there was a 'term; but this one wasn't dark.  It was portable, and self-powered.

I read about the Stronghold; how it was built to house millions, protecting them from some ancient catastrophe.  What's more; I found the command to remotely open the doors.  Today; I will bring my requests to the door of the Stronghold.  When they refuse to offer shelter for the people of my village; I will open the doors and the men of my clan will storm the Stronghold.  Today; the walls of Jericho will fall.