Ruins

Aidan.

"Damn, they had all the time," I muttered loud enough for Atlas, who stood beside me. He grunted for the umpteenth time. It was the only word he had been saying since we arrived at Pearl's pack.

The look on his face was one of disgust as we looked around the destroyed pack. It's ruin, making our stomachs churn.

There were whole dead bodies and body parts thrown around the place, so scattered that it was hard not to trip over them. The stench of dead bodies filled the air. The flies were having a damn good time.

The survivors were being helped from under heaps of corpses, burning houses, and ditches.

"Where's Tristan?" I asked Atlas, whose eyes were on a crying baby being pulled out of the hands of his dead mother.

"Last I saw him; he was raging; I think he went to put some clothes on."

Just immediately, Tristan came out of a small condo in jeans and a shirt that he didn't button, just letting it fly. Something told me the owner of the clothes was dead.

He marched, trying to wal