A few days later after the ‘heart beat’ incident, everyone was scared. It wasn’t just the plague. The wild animals who were now more vicious than ever. They were being hunted. It was dawn when they ran into him.
“Need some help, stranger?” Kyle called out to him.
He was dressed in heavy clothing, a bandanna around his face with a skull imprint, and a dusty weathered fedora hat. He had an old Remington strapped to his back. As he heard Kyle call out to him, he turned around, his rifle pointed at him. Shannon and Phelps pointed their rifles at the stranger.
“We don’t want any violence” yelled Kyle
“Neither do I” he replied back. His voice came out rough. Not amiable at all. His hand was steady. There was tension, the kind you can feel but you can’t explain. Not unless you’re there.
“I’m sure we can both come out of this winners, there is no need for violence”
“Violence is all that’s left in this world, Kyle, at least I’m not a part of the problem” he replied. His hand went from the bolt.
“Don’t move, man”