"Jesus. That's pretty fuckin' creepy," I mutter, watching the radio conk to life. You'd think after three years on the island, I'd be used to something like that, but for some reason, I'm more unsettled than I can really account for.

In the distance, there's a forest of twisted and devastated metal, and there's something horrifying about the sight. A fucking massacre happened here, and I feel the same type of sick fascination I might if I was looking at an explosion of blood and gore.