Date: Sun, 25 Aug 2013 21:56:13 -0600
From: Writ Er <madness.writer@gmail.com>
Subject: What's Left 2

**Hello! back again for another few days in the lives of Jake and his
companion. Hope you enjoy it. I think it's kind of boring... TOo much
talking. But hey, that's what came out of my brain skull. Thanks for all
the e-mails with comments and flirtations. I will try to respond to
anything I get, unless you send any awkward photos... Just... What? Ok!
Enjoy!**


My name is Jake, and this is my story of survival. Too many years ago, and
too much heart ache, the world was overrun by the dead. Something happened
to people, they turned ravenous, and angry. You could see it in their eyes,
they were hollow and ridden with despair. You could smell it on their
breath, for it was wrought with decay. By the time that the disease hit, it
was too late for most of us. The governments fell because no one knew how
to handle it. The media fell, and no one knows what happened. It is
spreadable though, through the rank fluids that the disease seems to thrive
on, and in their very skin, so to be touched by them is dangerous enough,
for they rip, and tear. A scratch, lethal.

Surviving in a place where there is nothing is nearly impossible. The
animals have moved away, the soil is filthy with the disease that the dead
carry around with them. Nowhere is safe, and no one can be trusted.

Except my haven. My haven. The one place in this world where I felt at
home, where I felt safe. I felt as though it was a place where I
belonged. But all that is gone now; thrown away like useless
garbage. Thrown out into the world, where the dead walk among us, and the
only other people you meet want to kill and eat you. A world like this is
not on that I would wish on my worst enemy. I want to die every day. I want
to give up. But how can I? We are what's left.

My companion and I have travelled together for the past week, and seen no
other living being. The dead though, they swarm around us, reaching out to
eat our flesh at every turn, to infect us with the same virus that courses
through their veins.

For that week, we walked. There was no such thing as a vehicle anymore,
besides that of a horse and carriage. Even still, the Vultures would have
their hands on that before you even broke the horse. A horse could feed
their ranks for a week or so, and the rider, for another day. When I
consider that way of ending my life, it is easy to go on. It is strange how
much of an aversion to the living I mustered up after being unjustly thrown
out of my home.

But all that is in the past, though I don't have much of a future. My
companion, the man who saved me a few times, to which I returned the
favour, he has no set idea of where to go. He has no desire to find other
people, only to find "home."

"And besides," I said to him one day, "how can you be sure that there is
something, some place that you can call home? That's a big word for where
we are."

Where we were, was on the road. I didn't know what road, the dead had risen
before I knew how to drive. Even still, I had no idea where I was in
relation to where I grew up. We had wandered so far.

But the road was winding through a leafy forest, devoid of any animals or
signs of life. Even the trees looked to be struggling in the overcast
day. The grey sky set a somber tone over the two of us. He walked ahead of
me, swaying to and fro with the large shotgun hanging from his back. He
appeared to not listen to me for the longest time, but a few minutes after
I asked the question, he replied simply.

"There just is."

Hearing this brief moment that he desired to be social, I picked up my
pace, and joined beside him. "Well, where did you come from?"

The past few days, he had begun to open up to me a little, and I to
him. There was still this sense of unfamiliarity amongst us. Sometimes, he
would ask me a string of questions that I did not want to answer, and visa
versa. Altogether, we perhaps talked about ourselves and our past lives for
maybe a few hours in the past week. It was mostly discussing where to get
food, or which direction to take when reaching a fork. I was just glad that
there was someone who at least seemed concerned about me when he did not
know where I was. I was working up to him telling me what his name
was. That really was what I wanted to know, but I felt like it was his to
give to me. I didn't want to ask for it and lose his trust.

"Out east." Was all he responded with. That could be taken any number of
ways though. Where exactly? What part? Was he born there? My mind was not
satisfied at all with his answer.

"Well, what did you do for a living? Before all of this? I mean, you would
have been, what... In your early twenties?" He looked to be older than
thirty, and what was the point of being nice about it? I'm sure I looked
like shit.


He laughed a little at my question and stopped in the road to look at
me. "You think I'm how old, now?"

The response caught me off guard. "Well... I mean... I guess that you look
about thirty. But I don't think anyone really keeps track anymore."

"Really? Shame. My birthday was last month." He reminisced, clutching on to
that last bit of humanity. "It's Tuesday today, in September." That's what
he held on to, the date; if nothing else. He kept on walking.

"Do you know the exact date?" I wondered out loud.

"'Course I do, boy."

"And why do you always call me `boy'?" I just let slip. I actually kind of
liked it, in a weird way.

He chuckled and stopped once more. "Because you are a boy. That's
it. You're just a kid who knows nothing of what is really out there." He
made appropriate gestures to drive the point home. "You stayed over there
in that little perfect paradise for too long. You had yourself a girl there
too. You carried on with life, just like nothing happened. So you're a
naïve little boy, and that's just it."

I smacked him on the shoulder with the back of my hand. His remarks made me
really pissed off. "At least I lived. You exist."

"Well now, that's just about all I'm going to hear on that." He walked away
again without a word. He was stubborn, and it pissed me off even more.

"Fuck that! You're an asshole! You can't just bring all that crap up that
I'm still trying to wrap my head around, with no help from you, I might
add. You can't just bring that shit up and then walk away! Is that what you
do? You walk away? What else have you walked away from?!"

He turned and pushed me to the ground. We stared at each other for a few
moments, locking eyes, clearly striking a nerve in each other. "That's none
of your fucking business, boy. Don't you ever... Ever, bring that up. You
don't know what I've lost!" He shook his head at me. "And now you're
thinkin' that I've got nothing on you, eh? Well I'll tell you another
thing, Jake..." He said my name with such distain, "you can't bring to
compare the suffering of people. Do that, and you're gonna find yourself
comparing to the wrong sort of people one day, and then that will be the
end of you. No honorary funeral, no one to miss you, and nothing to leave
behind. You'll just be another of the billions of dead. Then you'll get up,
and whoever kills you will have the honour of doing it again." It took a
long time for those words to find a place to stick to in my mind. "Now get
the fuck up." He didn't help me.

We walked on towards nowhere, me with my head held high, he in his usual
state of not wanting to talk about anything that felt at all like he was
going to need to say something important. Mostly about the weather, and if
I saw anything, I needed to tell him about it. It might be dinner after
all. But after it became cold, and the sun began to set, there was
essentially nothing that could be eaten out there in the twilight.

Instead, we would need to get into our rations, which were unsettlingly
low. I didn't bring anything with me, because I had nothing from when Jess
and I went to the hospital. The assholes sure weren't going to be giving me
anything that might be useful. I had to rely on this guy whose name I
didn't even know. It was fucking stupid, and the anger was showing on my
face, I could feel it.

He walked into the woods, looking around and squinting his eyes against the
blackness within the forest. I was motioned to stay out on the road, where
the wind blew away any heat that was left over. I folded my arms and
shivered a little against the wind, sitting down on the ground and trying
not to let it get to me.

About ten minutes later, he came out of the forest with scratches all over
his face and hands. I stood up when he came out of the forest, and I
suddenly felt like I was more like his dog than his companion. Staying when
I was told to, sitting, standing up when he came forward, concerned for his
wounds. I decided that I wasn't going to ask about them, then I felt like a
child. I guess he was right to call me `boy' all the time.

Instead, I decided to go with a "You ok?"

He nodded and then gestured behind him. "There's a bit-a over crop just
back there. I think we should stay under it. Light a fire, try and stay
warm." He looked at the side of his hand, bending his arm awkwardly. "You
wanna grab some firewood?"

"Honestly?" But a stern glare told me that that was not really a question
to begin with. So, I spent the remaining minutes of light gathering
whatever I could find that might catch fire. And really, there wasn't much.

The darkness was pretty scary, really. Every breeze that moved a branch the
wrong way made me jump. I still was not used to being out in the middle of
nowhere at night. I wanted my bed, and I wanted to be with my
girlfriend. Just thinking about what they would be doing to her just
because she died made me a little sick.

It was policy back home that someone would drive an axe into the back of
her head to make sure that she didn't wake up from a bite or infection that
nobody noticed. Head cut off, and thrown into a fire pit somewhere in the
farmer's fields. That was everyone, whether important or not. I remember my
dad saying that death was the great equalizer, and I never forget that no
matter how many people I saw get the axe. Not all of them were even dead.

I broke down in the forest there by myself and cried. Mourning for my lost
life, and how unhappy I was just following this guy around. We weren't even
going anywhere. We had no purpose. Like I said to him before, we were just
existing, not living. Fuck... What was the point of living in a world where
all you can do is exist? The sharp stick in my hand looked mighty
welcoming. If I jammed it into my throat at the right spot, then it
wouldn't hurt so much. I'd just bleed out and go insane at the same time
with lack of blood. That wouldn't be the worst thing ever.

But when my eyes dried, and I told myself to stand up and be useful, my
mind was much clearer. But, this took me probably the longest out of all of
the things that I did while out `gathering wood.' I kind of hoped that he
wouldn't say anything when I found him.

It wasn't hard, there was a fire nearby, and so once I pushed through some
bushes, I could see it clearly. I wandered over, holding the stack of
firewood, bored of the day, and just wanting to go to sleep. Screw dinner.

But when I got to the fire, there he was, arm folded across his chest high
knees, poking at the fire with a stick. The shadows that had arrived with
the darkness cast gloomy shadows over his face, and I realized that we
weren't really apart, sectioned off from the rest of this miserable
world. We were together in our loneliness and loss. I smiled then when I
saw him, and dropped the wood beside him. He grunted a thanks, and I sat
down beside him.

"I'm not gonna be that annoying kid who asks a whole bunch of questions
right now. But, it's ok. For right now, it's ok."

He snorted a laugh and put a hand on my shoulder. "Right now. Tomorrow, and
you will be, boy." I laughed a little, and his hand began a rubbing motion
on my back, before pulling away. "Thanks for getting that, hey?"

I nodded to the fire. "It's getting kind of cold." I turned my head to
him. "If we aren't headed anywhere, we should at least try and find some
blankets, or we're going to freeze to death in a month."

He shook his head. "Just the same... We'll find something. There's a town
that we might reach tomorrow, just down this here road. If not, early the
next day. There might still be some things there, but pickings will be
slim."

"Maybe someone will have set something up there. Some sort of
civilization?"

He laughed at that. "You think that just because there's a town, that there
will be some people there, and ones willing to just give us stuff? We ain't
got anything to trade with, boy. Nothing but the clothes on our back, and
the weapons that we need. Even there, I've got all of the weapons. You've
just got a mouth." He chuckled.

I wanted to take that as a joke, and tried pretty hard too, eventually
accepting it. I didn't want to be that guy who complains and is hurt by the
things people say. But, after losing your entire life in a week, and being
on the road with a guy you feel like more of a burden with, it starts to
take its toll. So I let myself laugh. I let myself be vulnerable.

He looked at me and smirked a smirk that didn't disappear for a while. He
put the meager can of corn that he had allowed us for the evening on the
fire, all the while smiling like an idiot.

"So that's it? Corn?"

"Did you wanna chew on some wood while you did it? You've collected a
bunch. I hear it's good fiber."

"How the fuck would you know? Are you a doctor?" He smiled.

"If you mean I have a fancy degree in cooking corn from a can, then yeah,
I'm a doctor." He winked.

"And now you're just saying that to make me trust you enough to eat this
shit, eh?" He did nothing but smile as he poked the embers with the long
stick in his hands. "Yeah, that's gotta be it."

He snorted another laugh, and then there was silence for a long while. The
can heated up enough to expand a little in the fire so that it looked like
a barrel. He wiggled it out of the coals with the stick, and flipped it up
onto its end.

When I reached for it, he touched my hand, and pushed it back to me,
shaking his head. "Well, you really think it's cool enough to touch? Common
now." He let my hand go and continued poking the fire. "You know Jake, you,
uh... You shouldn't be too concerned with these things. I've got it. You
can just keep watch, you know."

I looked at him, wondering why he would bother telling me
that. "Umm... Ok. But, why would I keep watch it I don't have a weapon?" I
looked at his bulk and continued to wonder how many weapons he had hidden
in that jacket.

"Wull..." He stumbled over his words for a moment, "there ain't no need for
a weapon, if you're just going to be looking, hmh?" He poked the fire
again. "You, uh... You go out to the road a bit, and I'll come get you when
everything is ready ok? I don't want anyone comin' by and spotting the
fire, k?"

"Whatever." Just as I thought we were getting somewhere, and he orders me
off to do a stupid task where nothing is even going to happen. So I left
the campsite a little pissed off, but as I reached the closest tree, I felt
and hand on my shoulder.

Turning around, the man said "Or, you know, you could watch the fire, and I
can go out to look. Just... Just make sure that it doesn't spread. K?"

I was pretty happy about this turn of events. "Got it."

"And, uh... Make sure that you don't move everything around so much, `cause
it'll start some smoke. And don't tough my gun."

"I've got this." I assured him, and wandered back over to the fire. Taking
a seat, he nodded at me, lingered as if to warn me about something else
that was too obvious, and then left.

I leaned back against the cliff that helped to hide the fire, and shield it
from any water that might show up in the night. And I was glad that I was
able to do something useful for my companion. It would be good, and I knew
that it was going to be really important for us as partners for him to
allow me to do something like this.

But then, my sceptical side came out, and I began to think of whether or
not he was messing with me. What if he actually went off to talk to the
others in his group, and just made me think that he was going to let me
stay there all by myself. There was someone watching me. There had to
be. Fuck, I had played right into his trap. I'm such a fucking idiot.

So I started running towards the road. I grabbed the biggest stick that I
could from the pile that I collected, and just left. Knock the asshole out
before I took off. Maybe the fire would take him if he was knocked out long
enough.

But then I stopped.

How can anyone live like this? I joined that group at the haven because I
wanted to feel safe. This guy had done nothing, except not tell me his
name, which would make me feel like I couldn't trust him. I could. I could
trust him, and I would trust him. So I dropped the branch, and walked back
to the fire, with my head held low.

It was just how I left it, except that the can was cool enough to
touch. So, with a roll of my eyes, I backtracked out to the road, picking
up the branch for protection, then firewood when me and my companion
returned.

I found him there, on the road. He was looking up at the stars, and not
even the least bit interested in the surroundings. I smiled to myself and
tapped him on the shoulder.

Before I knew it, my head hit the road, and a knife was at my throat. I
choked as I looked up into his eyes, wild as a fucking wolf. I was scared,
and all of the feelings and thoughts of him being a Vulture, or just
someone that I should be killing flooded into my mind.

He blinked a few times, shaking his head, then looked at me and said "Jake,
don't you go doing that to me again, ya hear?" He climbed off of me, and
then pulled me to my feet, wrapping an arm under mine.

"I don't get how to come up to you. What do you have in that jacket? If
there aren't any throwing knives, I'll call your name." I joked. But I also
thought that he would get angry for me calling out to him. A rock and a
hard place.

He laughed and brought me back to the fire, which had started to go down.

"Here." He took off his jacket, leaving the plaid buttoned shirt as the
only thing he had on. Throwing me his jacket, he said, "Take a look through
it. There ain't nothing there I can throw at'cha."

I put it on, and then started to look through the pockets, thinking about
how he might be able to reach for the various things. There was a
flashlight, a pocket knife, an old folded up map, and a compass. Nothing
else. He travelled light, and with nothing the least bit threatening. I was
glad.

He was finished cutting open the can of corn with a knife he had in his
boot by the time that I was done looking through his jacket, but it was
warm, so I kept it on.

We passed back and forth the can of corn, each time taking a little chug of
the bland kernels. I tried to avoid the water that they soaked in, since it
made me gag the first time that I tasted it. I also couldn't help watching
the man as he passed me the can. His shirt was tight around him, so when he
extended his arm, the shirt ran up his forearm, and also made the muscles
in his arm pop out. I started to get confused as to why I was noticing
these things, but I ate the corn in silence.

"Here," he offered, "have some of the water. You're probably in need of
some." His hand knocked into my shoulder, and I took the can from
him. Pretending to drink it, he poked the fire a bit, until I passed it
back. "I hate it, you know. But, better than dying of thirst, right?"

I nodded, and actually drank it the next time that he passed it to me. I
gagged, and he laughed.

"Common now princess." He joked.

Coughing, I threw the now empty can at him. I struck him in the face, and
he had a surprised expression on his face for a few moments before tackling
me, and landing a few soft punches to my sides and chest. I tried my best
to block them, but he was fast, and strong.

I grabbed his hand, stopping it from attacking me, and he just pulled out
of my grasp. I tried bucking my hips up to throw him off of me, but he held
on with his legs. I was helpless under him. To drive the point home, he
grabbed my wrists, and threw them to the ground, leaving his face just
inches from mine. I held my breath in surprise, and with a little fear, not
knowing what he was going to do next.

But all he did, was stare at me for a few moments, the flickering of the
fire playing games with his growing, light brown beard. It was just one of
those things that I didn't really understand why I couldn't stop looking at
it. My mind went through a number of things until I had the thought that I
wondered what his beard would feel like, that I decided that it was more
than enough.

"Get off of me. Please..." I added the last bit as a formality. He looked a
little shocked, then got off, turning to tend the fire. I could still smell
him near me. I could feel the heat that came off of him, and his jacket
that I wore made me feel like I was kind of special to him. I closed my
eyes and shook my head, trying to get the whole idea out of my mind.

"You can head to bed there, if you're tired, boy." He mentioned, sitting
down. "I'll just stay up for a bit longer, make sure that everything is
quiet before I go to sleep too."

"Do you want your jacket back?" I asked, starting to remove it.

"No, no. It's fine. I'm fine. You just head to sleep, ok?"

I nodded to him, and curled up where I was sitting. The overhang of the
ground was fairly high up, high enough that I could have stood. So, there
was no shortage of room. But, I still curled up, trying to take up the
least space possible. I shivered myself to sleep.


***


The mornings and evenings were growing colder, and I began to dread what
might happen to me if we were caught in the winter storms without a
definitive place to spend the cold days. The good thing though, was that
the attacks from the dead were less frequent in the winter, since they all
froze depending on where they were finally caught by a snap. Back in the
haven, it had become customary during the dead of winter, to get some
exercise by running around, and knocking the heads off of the immobilized
bodies. The kids had a particularly fun time, and I remembered doing the
same thing with Amber in happier times.

These times, among the cold, and the wet were not my favourite. I hated
waking up on the damp earth. All manner of strange bugs would crawl around
at night, keeping me up late.  It was never a problem, since my companion
was always up long into the night. He looked always to be staring off into
the fire, flames casting eerie shadows over his stern face; the softer,
shinier skin on his scar reflecting much of the light that hit it.

He also watched me for long periods, when my eyes were open just enough. I
don't know why, but I kind of liked it. I felt safe. I think that's why
when he did decide to lay down and rest, I left him move closer and closer
to me each night.

He had never held me like he did back in the office building where we spent
our first night hiding from the dead together. But I wanted him to. Each
night he laid down and I was still awake, my mind spun with wanting to pull
him close, and feel safe and warm in his arms. All of what I was feeling
had to have something to do with the fact that I hadn't seen another person
in weeks. I mean, those sailors on ships started... I guess sleeping with
each other? On those long voyages? Didn't they? I don't know. History never
was my strong suit in school.

Funny though, as I dreamt of the man and I running through the world
together, trying to find a place where we belonged, we saved each other
again and again. We held each other every night, guarding against the
dangers of this world. Each morning, I would wake up with him holding
me. So, when I woke up that morning as the winter approached, I was not
surprised to have him holding me.

"You're arm has healed I see." I remarked, running a finger over the scar
on his arm that was slung over me. "That's good."

He grunted in acceptance, not actually even awake yet. Instead, his arm
tightened around me, pulling my body towards his. I felt a rush of joy, and
settled into him. We rested like that for at least another hour, the sun
was more than up when he finally pulled his arm off of me. I really don't
know if he was awake, or asleep for the ordeal. But when he rolled onto his
back, he flashed a smile for only a second, before getting up.

"We don't have anything for food." He said, poking at the fire pit to see
if there were any coals that were still burning. "But there's a town just
to the north where I hope we can find a place to stay for the winter. I
doubt that there's no one there though, eh?" He sniffed up some snot in his
nose from the cold morning. "You up there, boy?" He nudged me with his
foot.

Acting dumb, I rolled over and raised myself to my knees. "Yeah."

"Good, `cause we can't be waiting around here forever. Best pack up and
go."

I started brushing the leaves off of his coat that I had worn ever since
the night he had given it to me. He had replaced it with a thick,
down-filled vest that was stolen from a Vulture not too long ago. It didn't
have all of the pockets or gadgets that his old jacket did, but I had seen
him fiddling with it by the campfire. Probably trying to open up some sort
of hole in the lining.

We had gotten our cleaning of campsites down to a science. I would brush
the leaves into a manner that looked flat, then collect dry leaves to lay
on top of the ones we had slept on. Moving, always moving after one night
sleep. I was getting so tired, and so sore.

There were few things that scared me now. We had not seen any dead in
weeks, and as a team, we proved to be really good at taking out the
Vultures that we came across. So I placed all of my faith in my companion,
whose name I didn't know. He told me one time that I could call him `Sir,'
but I told him that was ridiculous.

I wanted desperately to be close to him. Hell, I wanted to be close enough
to know his name. Those other feelings... They were of the moment, and not
important. We worked well as a team, but I thought that we would work
better if we would talk about things. He ordered me to do things, as it
was, and I was only just realizing that it might be alright to challenge
him in his decisions.

"Take a look there," I gestured, "there's smoke coming from that town you
mentioned." There was. Some sort of fire, camp of cooking was going on in
that town. There was no way that we would be welcomed if it was the
Vultures, but we were already too close to not spend a few days going
around the town. "Let's go then..." I said hesitantly.

"Wait." He said quickly, grabbing my upper arm. I looked him in his deep
eyes for a long time before he bothered to say anything else. "Let's just
go in carefully. They don't have fences or anything, so we can just walk
in... But what does that mean?"

"Well, they're either a wandering group, like us. Or, they're Vultures,
wanting to trap groups like us."

"None of those sound too promising." He snorted a laugh, and I
agreed. "Ok," he said a few moments later, "we should get going then." From
the forest, and the safety of the shadows, we walked towards the village.

The odd house began to pop up as we passed through the outskirts of the
town. On the main road, I could see a gas station with the stereotypical
`NO GAS' sign. I only remember seeing those signs in my life. It was a
general rule, that if you saw a place with one of those hand drawn signs,
there was nothing to loot. But, if there was no sign, the cars abandoned
around it would have gas, and the store might have something useful in
it. Those had become impossible to find now though. It made me think all
the more that we needed to find a settlement to join. There was so little
left to scavenge, that I found no reason to wander.

"Naw, we don't wanna get involved in their bullshit." He said when I
brought up the idea.

"But what if they're stable?" I pleaded. "We could live there. Actually
live!"

"That's a pipe dream, boy. There ain't nothing out there but marshal law,
and the dead. The moment you forget that, you're gone. You're dead, or
worse... One of them." He patted my shoulder, and I relaxed slightly,
before realizing where I was.

"We have nothing to offer except what we can do." I said quietly, if there
were snipers watching us. They wouldn't waste a bullet, but the threat of a
gun was still present. Give it another ten years, and maybe a gun would be
obsolete. No ammo.

"What else is there?" He laughed. "Back to feudal times, except everyone is
much wearier." He stood up straight, making himself look much taller than
average. The scruff on his face had grown into a dark brown, while his head
still remained light. When he looked at me to make sure I looked as
imposing as he did, I couldn't help but straighten my back, and puff out my
chest. "You look cute when you try to do that there, boy."

"Huh?"

"Shit! Relax. They're coming... Assume they're Vultures." He said before
pushing me behind him slightly. Our opposite shoulders touched, him in
front. I held the knife from his jacket firmly in my hand though, ready to
slit a throat if need be.

As we watched, I felt he tension grow to the point that I could have cut it
with my knife. It was then that I heard "Hold it! Don't move..." Someone
threatened us. "Make another move, and you're dead. Just try me; I'm three
kills away from being the best in the Sanc..."

The man's head was struck by a baseball bat. My companion forced me down to
my knees as he kneeled down too. Whooping and hollering could be heard all
around. I dared to peek out from behind the tree, and I saw the guy lying
face first on the ground, blood staining the leaves all around him. There
was a creepily thin man with a black goatee, ripped jean jacket, and black
pants. His long hair was kept mostly under his worn toque.

"Woohee!" He hollered, arching his back towards the sky. He inspected the
bat, then licked some blood off of it. "Hot damn, you're gon be goooood!"
He chuckled to himself. When the man on the ground moved slightly, the thin
man smiled. "Oooh, still some kick in ya huh? Need another smack do ye?"

The man on the ground moaned and pleaded, "No, please."

The thin man jumped up into the air, then began mocking him. "'No, please'?
Awww, you poor thing! Do you need your momma? Huh? Do ya?!" He got down and
shouted in the man's ear. "Or some help? Ain't no one here to help you now!
So that must mean... Well hot damn! You want my dick, don't cha?" The thin
man slapped his ass, hard. He began pleading no with a face full of leaves.

"Oh common, it ain't that bad! Nice dick up yer butt!?" he laughed and
started ripping the man's pants down. The man was squirming on the ground,
reaching out and feeling only leaves. "I'm cut ye know. I'm sure you'll be
able to feel it." He unzipped his pants, and spat on his hand, beginning to
rub his limp dick.

I turned back around the tree. My companion was looking down at me. Our
eyes locked and I begged him to do something without words. "Now common,
I'm not one-a-those mean Vultures, I'll wet ye up first!" I closed my eyes
and grabbed my companion's arm and squeezed. His arm was tensed solid, and
I could tell that he was trying to come up with something he could do
practically. I placed my head on his arm too, and he stood up.

Opening my eyes, he leapt out from behind the tree. My eyes followed him.

He wandered over, the thin man was too busy working up some spit that he
was then drooling down onto the man's butt. His dick was hard now, and he
seemed to enjoy the experience.

When my companion's knuckles cracked, the thin man looked up. "What the
fuck?!" He said before getting hit in the face by a fist. The thin man was
knocked off his knees, and couldn't catch himself in time to avoid hitting
his head on the ground. With pants around his ankles, he fumbled while
trying to get up.

My companion casually picked up the bat from the ground, testing its weight
in his hands. "You know, I think that the least appealing trait of
Vultures, is that they stick their dicks where they don't belong." He wound
up, and brought the bat slamming down onto the Vulture's dick. The scream
that came from the thin man's mouth must have been able to be heard for
miles. "It's not that they eat people, which is no better than those dead
things out there." Another strike hit the Vulture's knee, and a sickening
breaking sound came out of it. "But really, it's the rape thing. Growing
up, I was always told to never play with my food." He broke the other
knee. The Vulture's screams and cries were almost too loud.

I stood up and ran over to my companion, about to tell him to put the thin
guy out of his misery. "I always listened to my mother," he said calmly,
"and look how I turned out?" The Vulture's skull cracked with the final
blow from my companion.

Reaching out, I touched the hand that held the bat, and he turned to me,
softening his facial expression. There were droplets of blood all over
him. I cautiously reached up, and wiped one off of his face, just below the
scar, and his eyes closed as I did. His hand grabbed mine, and removed
it. He pushed past me to go see if the man was alright.

"Hey bud, you ok?" He said, leaning down, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The man groaned and rolled over, sporting a giant welt on his head. His
pants were ripped, and his dick was hanging out, dirty and had a few leaves
caught in his pubes. He blinked a few times, and was feebly trying to fix
his pants by the time I got over to him.

Together, my companion and I picked up him, and I put an arm under his pit
to stabilize the wobbly man. Very quietly, he whispered "Thank you," and he
tried to walk with us for a few steps.

"Hey! What the fuck?!" We spun our heads to the right, and a group of six
men, dressed as ruddily as the man my companion just killed was. They each
had the Vulture symbol on their jackets, and all carried metal pipes, or
wooden bats; one even had a few nails sticking out of it. That man was the
one who spoke. "You fucking do this to our brother?" When he spoke, it
sounded like he was talking to pond scum. But his teeth, it was his teeth
that really got to me. They were filed down to points on the top row. The
bottom row seemed just as sharp, though not filed. "Get these mother
fuckers! Bring me their fucking heads!"

The other five men began to run at us, holding their weapons high. "Got
him?" My companion said. I told him I did, and he grabbed the bat from the
ground, and ran in amongst the Vultures.

"Be careful!" I shouted, and the man with the sharp teeth cackled at me.

My companion made quick work of the first Vulture, ramming the bat into his
open mouth with a crack of teeth and bone, before flinging him onto the
ground, giving the bat the heel of his hand, driving the bat down into his
spine. He then pulled it out, teeth flying, and smacked the next Vulture so
hard, that his entire body spun around before falling onto the ground.

When a metal bar caught him in the stomach, I almost dropped the guy I was
holding, and ran over to knife the guy in the throat. But, there was a
gunshot, and the man with the metal bar dropped dead, blood spraying out of
his arm. A band of people from the town came running over, a few of them
holding guns, one even had a military issue assault rifle.

"Back off, Vultures!" He shot again, and the head of one of the remaining
Vultures exploded.

The man with the sharp teeth pointed at my companion, who was holding his
stomach. "I won't forget your face." He dragged a thumb across his neck,
then licked it before taking off running.

One of the townspeople came over to help me, grabbing the other arm. "You
ok there Miles?" He said to his friend. The man in our arms just sort of
nodded a few times, blood dripping out of his mouth like drool. I was
itching to go over to see if my companion was alright, so when a woman with
a revolver came over, I quickly passed the arm off to her, and ran over to
where he was, supporting himself with one hand, while his other was holding
his stomach.

"Are you ok?" I asked, putting my hand on his, and one on his back.

"That fucking hurt... Oh god..." He grunted and leaned into me.

"Common, up you get." I pulled him to his feet, just in time for three guns
to be put in our faces.

"Who are you?" The man with the assault rifle said. "And make it fast. If I
don't like what I hear, you're dead men."

"Luke..." The man with the bloodied face said weakly, "they're ok."

The three all lowered their weapons. Luke was an older man, but very
obviously hardened. He had the look of a military man about him, and he
smelled like cigarettes. I wondered where he had possibly gotten them. With
a strong arm, he cupped me on the shoulder. "Miles says so, must be
true. Back to camp everyone. Double time! Andy, Low, escort." He waved his
arm and everyone followed him.

A redheaded guy, and a curly hairs girl came up behind us, guns in their
hands, and pushed me and my companion forward, towards town.