We weave our way through the remains of town and though I feel a little ill at the sight of all these empty homes, stores, streets, I force myself to look, to bear witness to the lives that used to be.

It's not until we reach the off-ramp, this one crowded but passable, I breathe a sigh of relief. I hold my head still, look straight ahead, toward the open highway, though I catch flickers of remains, flashes of white bone and grinning skulls, out of the corner of my eye as Duet ...