He lay in the ditch with his blood turning the dirt into red mud beneath his stomach. He could lift his head just enough to see across the barren waist of broken bodies, and the black smoke raising from charred apartment houses. From the closest building Marty thought he could hear a baby crying. It seemed to be a deminishing wail slowly playing itself out.
He closed his eyes and put his head back down. He closed his eyes as hard as he could which did nothing to stop the sounds he heard from the baby.
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