The man dipped the little plastic dish into the water. That was the first for the day, the one he and his love would drink, hoping it would keep them alive till the next day, or that it would breed an infection inside them and kill them—that was also something to hope for. They'd been in the toilet for five days now, weak and almost losing their minds, one; from fear. They'd been trying to hide from those extremists that had invaded the locality five days ago with rocket launchers so common in their hands as if they had a much larger and tougher enemy to destroy than non-conformist humans, also known as infidels. Two; from starvation. As soon as the first shots were fired on Friday night about 400 meters away, the two love birds rose up from their bed, and their arousals swiftly grew limp. They had to act. They had to hide somehow, there was no place for an escape. They knew how dangerous and susceptible the area was to those kind of attacks, but they were much more overcome