The scene back at the truck stop, however, would be one of those. Nothing made sense. Mike lay on the ground near the fuel pumps, clutching at his face with his one hand, blood gushing out between his fingers. He thrashed around, making sounds that varied between screaming and moaning, but all of which degenerated into bubbling and choking as they forced their way up through the torrent of blood. Jake knelt next to him, uninjured as far as Will could see. Five corpses were sprawled on the ground near them, all shot in the head. None of them wore the striped shirts, but were bare-chested and filthy. The three lying face up had fresh blood around their mouths. Garrett was rummaging in the back of the wagon. “Hold him down,” Garrett shouted. “He’s gonna go into shock soon.” Will held Chris back and they approached more slowly, Will looking around to make sure there were no more attackers. As he got closer, he could see that Mike’s free hand had the pinkie and ring finger torn off.
