The outskirts were a graveyard of chaos. Smoke choked the air, carrying the metallic scent of blood and the acrid stench of burning debris. The screams of the dying had faded to whimpers, the desperation of survival replaced by the quiet of defeat. The ground was soaked with the lives of those who once struggled, red streams running through cracks in the parched earth.
The sound of distant gunfire had ceased, replaced by the grotesque echoes of beasts feasting on the fallen. Flesh tore, bones snapped, and wet squelches filled the otherwise muted surroundings. Those still alive moved like shadows in the chaos, darting from cover to cover, their breaths ragged, their faces etched with terror.
