The severed head lay on the side of its face, and Jide was looking into a sinewy aperture with goo. He couldn’t see the eyes: he saw just bloodied vessels, ribbon muscles and things a biology major would have been thrilled to identify. Gooey sinews, veins and stringy things flamed out perpendicular to a protruding greyish white, and waxy-looking lifeless tongue. Because the head was so close, he could not tell if the congealing deep red-brown blood streaks on the earthen floor, on which they lay were his. He knew he had been hit hard on the skull and could feel a gash in his head. Then there was the overpowering stench that dazed him. It woke him up.