Jazarah stood on blasted earth next to Ajit’s body. Their worm-like conveyance, having disgorged them, undulated northward. More rolled, flew and trundled past her.
She realized she was sweating. The ground radiated heat and likely something worse. The sky was pale blue. The bomb had not created a mushroom cloud or even smoke. It had simply turned the trees to ash.
She was too shocked even to weep. Alone in a desolate waste, if she did not succumb to radiation poisoning she would die of exposure.
She glanced at Ajit’s slowly cooking corpse, then ran to intercept one straggling machine.