The video footage was grainy for a digital recording. A man stumbling down the street, knife in hand. A gruesome sight. Everywhere bodies. Blood, guts, everything filled the street, as if a veritable flood of the dead had washed down the hill.
    It may as well have. The man had a stubbly grey beard stained red with blood. His knife mimicked his beard. His eyes were open wide, as if he could see all, but he was expressely unaware of his surroundings. His song was weak from the speakers, but Kit could hear the worrds.