He looks at the dead drones around him. Each one broken. Each one lifeless. Some with their eyes still open, some with them closed. Bodies everywhere. A carpet of flesh in all directions. He didn’t count as he fired round after round but he knows there was a lot of them, and now looking around he can’t see where the bodies end. And somehow he survived this - local apocalypse.

He looks up to the night sky which is still thick with clouds just as it burst into a torrent of rain again:

Somebody must be looking out for me…

Climbing to his knees he fights the pain screaming at him to lie down and rest. Driven now by the only thing that motivated him for the past few years.