Wit’ a new bottle in hand, he shot me another cocksure smile.
“Alright then. As I said, Pa was a news man. Liked to go out into the undead streets and ‘report’. He was with a family friend, Arge, when they were ambushed. Only Arge survived. Now the exact details are hazy, but I know this.”
He took a long swig of the beer bottle.
“Ah, tha’s good. Anyway, the friend and he were walking when they were attacked by about thirty fresh undead. Fresh ones are stronger, but you probubly know.”
He took another swig on the diminishing beer.
“My Pa was quickly surrounded, and the friend, Arge, ran. Pa probubly had a chance, but no. He had to get his stories. And then? The next day? Military purged the area. One day. One fucking day!”
He slamed his beer, then took a drink.
I quickly looked up from my notepad.
“And the friend?”
He looked up.
“Went insane. Held up a lady so he’d get arrested. Felt he deserved it.”
The stranger got up ta leave.
“Anythin’ else?”
He turned to the door.
“He was relesed.”
“And!?”

“Became a PI.”