"Ptooey, ptooey, ptooey!"
A bald Black head suddenly popped out of the sea of sand. Then the young reporter scrambled out as well, opening his mouth to spit out a mouthful of sand.
"The sandstorm Set created has dispersed! That means the angel has won! Hooray!"
Beside himself with joy, the young reporter shook his companion's shoulders frantically, venting his wild delight.
"My camera!"
But the Black cameraman shoved him aside and began digging through the sand with both hands.
One after another, more people crawled out of the yellow sand. They had all been on the outskirts and had not been seriously affected.
Looking at the gradually clearing sky, the survivors could not help weeping with joy. They knelt to thank the Lord for their salvation.
Although the terrifying sandstorm had dispersed, the Le Monde reporting team and Colonel Bastian's small group of foreign soldiers did not leave immediately. Instead, they steeled themselves and approached the interior.
Each had their own thoughts.
Colonel Bastian was under strict orders from his superiors to ascertain the situation at the scene.
Driven by his admiration for Jeanne and his fervent faith in the Lord, the young reporter wanted to confirm that Jeanne was safe.
The Black cameraman wanted a major scoop.
However, the Black cameraman had no idea where his camera had been buried in the sand, and he could not find it anytime soon.
With no other choice, the Black cameraman pulled his phone out of his trouser leg to use as a substitute.
His professionalism was truly commendable.
Before them lay a crater that looked as though it had been blasted out by a meteorite, over fifty meters in diameter. Although the ground was relatively soft sand, the power of the impact still left them staring in astonishment.
The forest