It's Great to be Alive
It took several hours for the young man to wake up. With a jerk he realized that he had, obviously, been tended to by the very man he’d come to beg help of.
“You’ve probably got internal bleeding. I doubt you’ll last all that long.” The old man was frowning at him over spectacles that had seen better days. The old man himself seemed like he’d seen better days too, so it was a good match.
Oh, right. He was dying, probably. The reality of this hit suddenly, and the young man’s face crumpled into a sort of resigned frown. “Then it is imperative that I secure your help before I die.”
“Awfully mature for a youngster. You’ve taken the news of your impending death surprisingly well.” Something like respect entered the old man’s voice.
A wan smile was all the young man could muster at the comment. “The world’s about to end. I don’t think I had very long anyway, unless you help us.”
“As much as I hate to sound like a bad guy,” the old man said, not being completely honest, “I don’t see the point.”