On the day when the sky in the county town was shrouded in black smoke, my lame leg suddenly became the most reliable support for my family.
While the neighbors were fighting for the last batch of cans in the supermarket, I silently took out the old batteries I had saved from repairing my cell phone.
When the missile blew up the highway intersection, my wife discovered the seed bank and first aid manual I had hidden in the attic.
The world is crazy, but the wilderness survival course I secretly learned when I joined the army three years ago told me that the real war is never in the news.
Today, I will take a family of six through 12 burning villages and return to the forgotten deep valley of the Dabie Mountains where my ancestors lived.
Because while the whole world is burning, the Cripple's battlefield is beneath every inch of soil.
