You pack your backpack with a couple cheese butter sandwiches and two energy drinks and a small jug of water. You spend thirty six minutes looking for the sniper but he is alive and he sees you first. From far off and badly wounded he takes his last dieing shot. Your left arm is nearly severed, hanging on by tendons and fractured bone. You are spun to the ground landing at a screaming impact. A torn horrible scream. No more shots follow the first one.