Children gagged on their own bile, whilst their mother or father did their best to comfort them. Children and adults alike were dying everywhere. Some had been slowly dying since they were infants, while others died as soon as they were born. Men, women and children who were not sick to the point where they had to sit, scavenged for any type of food or water. Most of them were without success.

When the heat became too much for them, they quickly hid under any flimsy shawls or any other cloth that provided at least minimum shelter from the scorching heatwave. The entire place reeked of death, blood and decay.

The entire landscape was completely barren of any type of plant or animal. Desperate for food, some suspiciously tested some insects that wandered by. They were ghastly, but they tried to ignore it. After all, there wasn't much choice. Children and babies cried, either softly or noisily into the scratchy fabric that they used to staunch their tears.

Their home was their own personal Hell. The people who lived there were the scraps left over from the terrifying war that ripped the land apart. They prayed in their native language that someone would that someone would save them from the diseases and starvation that plagued everyone.

But who?