The only thing that could confirm his identity was his half-blood-splattered face, glued as if with adhesive to the shattered car window, with a twisted expression frozen in deathly fear and despair.
Sani wandered like a disillusioned specter, continuing his slow walk through this land of death.
He saw more familiar or unfamiliar companions, lying haphazardly in pools of blood like harvested wheat, long devoid of life.
The air was thick with the pungent smell of gunpowder and the sickening scent of blood. The few who survived clasped their heads with their hands, prone and motionless on the ground, their eyes vacant as they awaited whatever fate would befall them.
Alas... Sani could no longer go on, conceding his own defeat. He resolutely drew his pistol, intending to end his life.
But just then, the sound of vehicles came from the direction of town. Over a dozen modified pickups raced in and screeched to a halt before the burning road.
