At the foot of the ruins, Wilkes saw firsthand the damage done to the inhabitants. The band of six were virtually crushed - if not pulped by the severe pressure of the explosion. Large splinters of wood simply stuck out off some of the corpses like a reminder of death. Normally that wouldn't be so bad to him, but there was this cocktail of blood, gunpowder, and urine that left an unpleasant odour in his nose. He made a note to not linger here for too long lest it follows him.
Most of the stuff on the bodies were tattered or rendered useless from the explosion. That meant most of the guns and what they had as armor was not worth the trouble, including the rifles they stole from him. But he emptied the firearms anyway to check for the bullets. 27 salveagable .308 rounds, six 10mm rounds, and three .38 rounds was the ammo he compiled from their remains. It only added a paltry six more rounds for his handgun; he couldn't use the other bullets, but someone else could. Raking through the remains of the dwelling, Salt found that they had a small assortment of gas grenades, two of them. Good for getting out of a mess, and certainly a reason to keep them on his person.
"And for those who abandon the world before them in favor of the next, let you deal them such pain as they are reminded whence they truly are."
Oh crap! It was time to go; that no doubt sounded like a Green ready for battle. No longer focused on scavenging, Salt went immediately towards the remains of their transport; the force rocked it over on its side and made it unable to use until somebody. With all his might, he pushed at the battered jeep with every urg in his body...
-BANG-
The fighting sounded close; any closer and he would have to fight, and he would rather not sully his hands in such a battle. At his last breath, he finally righted the jeep. He didn't bother leaving a mine in case of followers; just wired the car to start and drove off. The location didn't matter, as long as he wasn't in the crosshair.