I approached the smashed out driver's side. Something in me nagged that this was a terrible idea, but if someone was still alive they needed help. But the sound of hundreds of flies gave it away.

No.

Nobody was alive.

I could see on the driver's side was a small horse. A unicorn too blood stained and mangled to tell color, or gender. It was roughly the same size as me, maybe slightly bigger. It was propped up on the driver seat, forelegs shoved through the steering wheel. Bones stuck out of torn skin and the head oh God, the head.

It was completely twisted upward, the bones in the neck broken and jutting out the ragged flesh. There were no eyes, just empty sockets that long since had the eyes picked away by birds, or insects, or God knows what. The face had a facsimile of a smile as most of the facial skin was on the steering wheel, or gnawed away. Already there were maggots everywhere. Writhing. Wiggling.

The eye sockets stared right at me.