Nothing in all my life, nothing in my death, nothing on this earth could have prepared me for what was behind that flap, the smell hits you first, a mix of blood, pus, excrement, antiseptic and sorrows mixed together creating a smell so pungent a rotting corpse would plug it's nose
The tent was crowded, people, or what was left of them, were laid out in rows stretching from one end of the tent to the next, the people who weren't on their backs screaming out in agony were running from patient to patient with their hands filled with buckets, towels, papers and drugs
The youngest patient looked to be 4, maybe 5, while another looked as old as Obaa, he was the only patient not screaming in agony, if it wasn't for the steady blinking of his eyes I'd swear he was dead
