A lone car drove down the american highway. The driver concealed behind plastic covers.
The sun had sunk to the point where a plastic screen was lowered to combat it's sharp rays.
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P8a4iiOnzsc]The radio gently produced melodies to drown out the monotonous drone of an engine that should have retired years ago.[/url]
With a gentle nudge at the wheel the car signaled a right turn to no one in particular.
The old car slowed down and left the highway for less traveled roads.

[h3]Kilo Point, 6 Miles.[/h3]

The car crept down a ruined road, traces of guns and fire, tracks of tanks.
Once close enough to see the ravaged remains of a city as close to death as the vampires that roam it, the driver got out of his car.
Calmly and collected, like in a single calculated movement. The copper bell dangled from his hat silently.
He fished the phone from his pocked at holding it up to his mouth like an old radio microphone.
"Call home..." A whisper, followed by a dial tone.
"I'm here," Martin said as he gazed at the destruction in the valley before him, a grin spreading across his lips.
"And oh dear, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late."