Similar to when you drop a fragile item or witness something tragic, Adrian felt time slow, his blood freeze, and then felt both return to their proper flow. His teeth went numb and the air touching his eyes was acutely prickly. A dry tongue rolled over a barren mouth in an attempt to wetten it. An old man sat inside of Reggie’s, eating from a bag of chips. Even from here, a block and a half away, Adrian could faintly hear the familiar rustle of aluminum, the breeze brought it in snatches as it swept past him. It wasn’t so easy to make out what the old man looked like from here; Adrian was on a slight slant of a hill, looking up he could see an olive green shirt with a black stripe that was around nipple height. He was also wearing navy blue jeans that had been ripped into shorts. Possibly. It was hard to make out from this distance. The man also looked as bald as Adrian, if not more. Adrian gulped half of a mouth full of saliva and wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans. This was not in his plan, but it was in some of the negative thoughts he had had. What do I do?

What would Douglas do? The thought invaded him like only God’s voice is known to do. It stabbed a gentle prod into a tender spot in his heart that made him convulse, and as he shook with his nerves a few tears spilled out and rolled to his cheek, there he wiped them. What would Doug do? Doug wouldn’t be here in this situation. He would of played it smarter and chose a safe area closer to home, across the country. Somewhere familiar. Doug would of collected friends and family together, everyone knew of his nobility and his charm. Mom and Dad would have easily believed him, and everyone would be together. Mom and Dad always claimed to know half of West Virginia, and Adrian personally could attest to his Dad having several beneficial friends like warehouse workers that had access to stored food, paramedics, pilots and boat owners. His mother worked at a food bank and went to church every Sunday, the web of networking was deep amongst his parents.

In this specific scenario… Adrian thought Douglas would have turned tail and went home. Or at least explored the city for a different, safer grocery store. He would have cautiously backed away, turned and dodged around the nearest corner. And who would argue? Caution is safe in this day and age.

But Adrian was quickly adding reasons not to run and turn away. What if the corner he turned was worse? What if there were no more nearby grocery stores? What if the old man saw him anyway? The questions just added on, Adrian even thought about the possibility of the man being nice. He was just peacefully eating a bag of chips, and now that the wind died down he could properly hear, but very faintly, rock music coming from a stereo somewhere in that direction. It was very low, probably so only the old man could hear. That was a good sign that he was peaceful… Adrian hoped.

But then again. There were so many reasons to listen to his inner voice, his inner Douglas. Indecision was tearing at him. He couldn’t think of what to do quickly enough and the man danced his way out of the door frame and out of view. Adrian saw a boombox he was formerly standing in front of, and on it were several bottles. This is just an old man, relaxing, having a good time by himself.

Adrian was standing on a sidewalk, not hidden and not being cautious. Alone. He wished he wasn’t alone. Douglas’s opinion would be invaluable right now. Even if Kevin was here, healthy and standing, he’d have the confidence of having the advantage in numbers. Adrian didn’t doubt he could physically take on this old man and win, but he didn’t know if he dared risk the odds.

The goddamn odds… wasn’t luck supposed to abide for him? Hadn’t it always up until this point? Had he not coasted in the Croteau’s, twiddling his thumbs essentially and eating their food while the world around him evolved into something sputtering and decayed? Where was his luck now? This decision was one of the most difficult he has had to make since deciding to flee across the country.

And he couldn’t make it. Adrian trembled and let his shoulders sag. He didn’t know what to do. He was at odds with himself. I can’t deduct it any further than being a 50/50 chance for either course of action being a risk.

An idea struck him and the temptation at its release of his stress was too strong. Quickly he searched his wallet for what he knew he’d find in the tiny coin section. Adrian plucked out a quarter and held the coin in his hand.

“Heads… I go in. Tails, I leave.” he said aloud, and put the coin on the bridge of his thumb and flicked it in the air. It shimmered as it caught direct sunlight and it fell precisely into Adrian’s open palm, which he then closed and turned over before smacking on the back of his left hand. He gulped nervously and looked up. The old man was now drinking merrily from one of the bottles, Adrian thought it might be a beer bottle. He drained it and then chucked it outside of Reggie’s without looking, but Adrian had a flutter of moths at the possibility of being spotted. He checked the coin.

And he was astonished. Not at the answer, he damn well could have predicted it. Barely needed to flip the coin, in fact. But he was astonished at the lack of fear that he felt now that fate and hopefully luck had taken the wheel. The coin had landed on heads, and he would confront the old man. With a tiny bit of experience in confronting creatures of the apocalypse, he felt a slice of confidence well up in him. But how should he proceed? Cautiously and without raising any alarm, he thought. The man was drunk, but didn’t appear disorderly. Adrian would give him the upper hand and let him lead their interaction at the beginning.

He took timid steps at first, but as he got closer he put more courage into them. Even if it was partially faked. At a closer range he could see that the old man’s shorts were indeed ripped, the right leg resided above the knee and the left leg was below it. They were also filthy, as was the man’s wispy white hair. Only the top had a few scraggly strands that flew in any which direction they were moved. Adrian could also see that the man’s shirt had holes in it. Another bottle was polished off and tossed out of the door, but this time the old man did look. When he saw Adrian, he froze with an outstretched arm, looking like a bowler waiting for a strike at the end of his lane.

Instead there was Adrian. He didn’t pause in his stride when the old man recognized another human looking at him, he only raised his hands in the classic “I come in peace” symbol. The old man bolted further into the store, kicking the boombox over accidentally and sending the remaining two bottles crashing to the ground. After a few seconds, the unidentifiable rock music cut out. Adrian stopped one intersection away from Reggie’s. The sun was hot and the tension was high. Adrian was sweating.

The sensation of swimming overwhelmed him. He ceased being conscious momentarily, short enough of a span to stay on his feet. Air rushed out of his lungs and he clawed for more. In the brief amount of time he was swimming he was able to reflect on his scenario from a different point of view. In that moment he knew he was being a fucking idiot

He came back to, the drifting feeling abandoning his body. Now he felt exactly like a man washed ashore, disheveled and fatigued. And in the wrong place. He needed to leave while he had the chance, the old man had receded into the store and this was his opportunity, his calling to back out. Adrian swiveled, when:

“Hello?” came an old croak of a voice. The voice that could only belong to a veteran smoker or drinker. It had a shrillness to it that was like nails on a chalkboard. The man didn’t sound scared, he sounded nervous.

“Hello? Who’s there?” came the voice of the old man again. Now it had strength in its shrillness. Amidst the croaking and shrillness and slurring, the man also had a whistle lisp, it accented on the word “who’s”.

“I said who’s there? I’m comin’ out, now. Don’tcha be shootin’ at me ok?” Adrian turned around as the anciently old man came around from behind a (disappointingly) empty shelf.

His hands were up just as Adrian’s had been, so Adrian mimicked the gesture back once again. They walked closer to each other but didn’t get closer than fifteen feet from one another. They lowered their hands like mirror images and stared across the street and tried to figure each other out. A silent couple of seconds passed where not even the wind interrupted. The old man spoke first, and then things moved quickly.

“What’s yer name?” he said in an accusative tone. His hands absent mindedly went to his hips, where he wiped them and left a trail of greasy fingerprints on his filth stained jean-shorts.

“Adri..” he coughed a lump of phlegm out of his throat.

“Adrian… Adrian Shepherd.” the words stumbled out with unprecedented scrutiny. His mind was a factory turning all of its inner gears and procedures. His sensory input was on hyper alert and every breath was done manually, every blink was not automatic but the squeezing of his eyelids to relieve a familiar tension.

“Who are you? What’s your name?” Adrian said, a growth of confidence was notable and the older man didn’t budge, but shook his head once as if Adrian had invaded his personal life.

“Nope. You ain’t needin’ know that, you’m just gonnuh lissen right here to me, yep?” the idea almost made Adrian laugh, and he had to fight to suppress it, but this old man was trying to be the figure of authority in this scenario. Adrian looked down, which the old man took as a sign of submission. In fact, Adrian was just making sure he hadn’t slimmed down over the past two third’s of a year. He hadn’t, he was still physically fit as he should of been. He no longer had a gym membership, but doing push ups was free and possible to do just about anywhere.

“Why would I do that? What do you have to say?” he said in a tone that let down no ground. The old man shook his head again and staggered. He caught himself, then took two steps closer to Adrian.

“‘Cause I know why you’re here.” he said with perfect clarity, and Adrian’s heart fluttered. What did he mean?

“What do you mean?” Adrian said after a pause. The old man fired back.

“I said, I know why you’re here, and I know that I ain’t lettin’ ya get in this store. I fown it. I fown it, you hear me? It’s all mine, all for me. You dawnt know wott I haveta did to get it. You weren’t here.” the old man’s voice croaked out and broke on the last word, he balled his fists into his eyes and started crying, loudly.

Adrian didn’t know what to do. The crying was loud but the man, whoever he was, had just said he had to do something Adrian wouldn’t want to know about to get to where he was now. He took a chance and moved forward with an outstretched hand.

“Listen, you don’t know me but I can be a frien…” as Adrian got within spitting distance of the man, he ran and lunged wildly. Adrian instantly flashed back to Kevin’s attack and he flinched. It cost him.

Adrian reached for his cane and grabbed it. His palm wrapped the handle and he pulled, but not with enough time. He heard one velcro strap rip before something hard and blunt that the old man pulled from behind his back cracked him in the temple. Adrian fell and rolled over his duffel bags, and the old man hooted and hollered and danced as the world grew dim.

---

When he came to he was inside of Reggie’s lying on the floor, covered by a blanket. He moved his head and saw row upon row of shelves, and the ones toward the back of the store had some indistinguishable (from this angle) items on it. He saw a single cashier lane that was raided empty of its convenience items like chocolate bars, gum and mints. In the very back of the store was an icebox, open and empty. The scoop hung on a chain and was left carelessly on the floor.

It took Adrian a couple seconds for his brain to warm up and remember why he was lying down. Although, he had no idea at all why he was inside of Reggie’s, when he had taken the blow to the head outside of it. Presumably the old man had dragged him in, but what had he hit him with, anyway? The injury in question was throbbing. It felt like he was bleeding but he wasn’t sure. He lifted his hand up to his temple.

Or tried to, in vain. His hands were tied at the wrists in a knot that must of been impressively strong. The rope was thick and went down to his ankles where they, too, were tied. Panic seized him as he shook his limbs, the wool blanket shifting only slightly.

The old man popped his head into view. He was standing over Adrian from his backside, so all Adrian could see was an upside down forehead and two crazy, glossy eyes. The old man tilted his head back and audibly gulped down an entire bottle of beer, which then went sailing in an arc across Adrian’s view before smashing on something on the other side of the store. The old man cackled before it failed into a coughing fit.

“Sir… what are you, why are you…” the old man cut him off with a weak kick to his back. The kick was weak but the toes of his working boots were steel. Adrian shouted in pain, a scream that would of woken up half of the surrounding neighbourhood if there was one.

“What the fuck was that?” he cursed at his senior.

“Them’s my steelies. You wonna meet ‘em again?” Adrian shook his head frantically.

“Lissen here then you ignoran’ brat. You dawn’t know HAFF of wott I did. You juss some outta towner tryin’ take wott ain’t his. Wott you done? Where you been? NO WARES. You ain’t been NO WARES, hear me? All my life I live here and I been disresepted. Then God up above came and delivered Armageddon to all of us sinners.” he paused for a breath, and Adrian took the opportunity to speak up.

“Sir, listen. I’m not here to take anything from… OW FUCK, YOU PRICK!” He delivered another steel-enforced shot to his spine, and Adrian was sure that area would bruise, if not break.

“Fuck, stop! LISTEN TO ME.” Adrian yelled. “I’m not here to steal! I made a mistake coming here… I only wanted food, I’ve been starving for two days, man.” he quickly said. He couldn’t see the old man until he had circled Adrian and knelt with the gentle fragility of the elderly.

“Now. Why’m you gonna lie to me? Why’m you gotta go and try ta pull on these ol’ heartstrings? All that’s gonna getcha is a hole right in your forehead, friend.” the old man said these words slowly, and then dramatically poked Adrian in the middle of the head with his index finger.

Adrian noticed what the old man was holding loosely in his right hand. A gun. An old school revolver like the ones that you saw the cowboys on TV shoot. Adrian was sure that his pupils grew and enveloped his eyes. The old man grinned a dirty yellow toothed smile. He waved it closely in Adrian’s face, and he could see his own blood on the butt end of it. The old man also had blood smeared on his palm and fingers. As if just noticing it for himself, he awkwardly wiped the mess on his jeans again. Adrian grimaced.

“Come on, put that away. There’s no need for anymore violence, ok? I have a medical kit in my duffel bag. Take it, it’s yours. A offering of peace. Take it and let me go and that’ll be it.” Adrian wriggled in his confinement. “God dammit, I only came in here on the flip of a coin! It wasn’t even my decision to come in here.”

The old man froze and locked eyes with Adrian. A goofy grin spread, revealing teeth until a hoarse chuckle turned into a gross cackle. Adrian saw him wipe a tear from the corner of his eye, but had no idea what he was finding so funny.

“Came here on a fifty fifty chance, huh? Well ain’t that juss somethin’. Ain’t that juss a damn coincidence?” the old man began to march about, tottering in his drunkenness. “Well ain’t that juss a damn fine honey of a coincidence? Ya see, friend. I got this here gun. Stole it from the owner who’s gone now, you hear me?”

He lifted the gun for his own inspection, pulled the chamber out and spun it slowly so Adrian could see.

“I got me three bullets leff. Can ya cown ‘em? One, two, three.” Adrian could see this, and nodded. “But ya see how many of those chambers is empty? There’s three more could be filled. I got me three outta six bullets. Know what that is? We got ourselves another fifty fifty scenario.” the old man laughed like it was an unbelievably hysterical event. Adrian whimpered and was shaking his head from side to side.

“So what we’m gonna do now” the gun’s chamber closed, and a wrinkled hand spun it like a child might. “Is we gonna have us another flip of the old coin.”

The chamber stopped spinning and he shakily pointed it at Adrian. He stuck his tongue out, closed one eye and took aim. It was a ridiculous sight but it struck Adrian with fear. The barrel of the revolver was pointed right at his head. The old man took the wool blanket and tore it off with no showmanship. Adrian was covered in sweat, his clothes were wet and sticky. He felt the rope on his left wrist give a little and the rope rose to the bottom of his palm and caught again. The old man hadn’t noticed the shift in his arm, he was much too busy trying to aim through his beer goggles.

“Hold still... ya damn… urk” the old man dropped his gun, bent and promptly puked on it. He went for a second round and Adrian smelt beer. Vomit drops splashed his face, but he was too busy prying his hand out to notice. His greasy appendage had wormed another inch passed the rope. Meanwhile, the old man wiped his mouth with his hand, and wiped his hand on his shorts. He bent down lower and picked up the gun, not noticing or caring that the handle and one side of the barrel was puke splattered.

“Now… where were we, darlin’? Uhehehehe.” he laughed like a hillbilly as he aimed down the sight again, his arm was much more steady now. He barely held the gun in place or registered what he was looking at before he squeezed the trigger like someone with experience would. At the same time Adrian got his left arm free and with the momentum carrying from the strain of freeing it, it sailed and landed in warm vomit, his body turning. He heard the deafening boom of the gun and felt an excruciating burning in his left hip. He checked it with his hand, brought it up and saw he was cupping a handful of blood and vomit. The sight of it made Adrian fall unconscious, his third time doing so in twelve hours.

---