Tall, with a body narrowing down from his broad shoulders, the youth was walking right in the middle of the street, the floor of which was decorated with body parts.
The blood dripping from both his hands created a long line behind him, and wherever he went, the line went with him, when he came to the door of the one-story building, which was alone among the large glass-fronted shops next to it, a small puddle formed at his feet.
Silence reigned behind the planks in front of him as the echoes of people's efforts to escape death rang from all directions.
The door popped out as Mel hung hard, hitting the opposite house wall, and a pair of eyes flashed out of the darkness as the light entered.
"You finally arrive!"
A tiny spark rose from the flint, the silhouette of the man lighting the candles on the counter now visible.
"Where is your son?"
