The sun breached the horizon as I took stock of what supplies were left. _Three bottles of water, four cans of food, two spoons, a packet of matches, a flash light, three D batteries, a swiss army knife with one broken feature, and an old baseball bat. _Everything fit nicely inside my backpack snuggled up against the sole blanket I had, with the exception of the bat which I preferred to keep handy, anyways.

I double checked that the laces of my boots were tied tightly, double knotted just like mom had once taught me, and pulled my hood tightly over my head. I moved swiftly just beyond the tree line, carefully plotting each step to leave as little of me behind as possible. No cars passed, no planes woshed by overhead, no trains rattled along in the distance. The silence of the morning deafening.

A silence that eerie lingered…until it disappeared with a *pop*, a loud bang if you will. My heart skipped a beat then raced to make up the distance. Notably, nothing stirred around me, the vacant forest starting to swallow me whole. Pressed up against a large tree truck, peering my head ever so slowly around the bend, I made an attempt to identify where the noise came from.

A second *pop* followed by indistinct yelling. It’d been so long since I encountered another person I almost forgot what they sounded like, their speech an unfamiliar assortment of noises. If my grip had been any tighter I’d have snapped the handle of the bat as I slowly began an approach on high alert.

A shack was situated in a clearing not far off the road, camouflaged an impressive amount given the turmoil the world had fallen into. I’d bet my last can of beans that an enormous amount of preparation went into this dwelling. A man was stood out front taking careful shots at the shack. Another rang out. *pop*. “Just show yourself,” he shouted. “I’m not here to kill you. Just hold up your end of our deal and I’ll leave you alone.” *pop* *pop*.

He moved a little closer taking aim at a small window. “You stupid bi…” and he hit the ground, hard. I inhaled sharply, my hands vibrating from the bat colliding with the back of his head. His gun tumbled a few feet away and came to rest in the dirt.

I picked it up and gave it a once over. A six-shooter, cold and shiny. By my count it had one bullet left, if I was lucky.

The gun in one hand, the bat in the other I circled the shack. It seemed empty but my feet refused to approach the door. I made it once around and searched the man for more bullets. I crouched over him, turning out his pockets and dumping the contents of his pack in search of anything of use. A few bullets tumbled to the ground.

My eyes fixed on the bullets at my feet, I heard the door creak open. Was it the wind or something else? I spun around gun drawn, scooping up the bullets in one fluid motion, as if I knew what I was doing, as if I were a character in a storybook.

In the newly empty doorway grew a void, introducing a black hole more draining than the lonely trees. Whatever it was it called out, “If you think you did me any favors you’re sorely mistaken. You haven’t done yourself any either, by my observation.”

Still nothing _physically_ emerged from the shack, just a haunting voice that danced its way across the yard. “He’ll be waking up soon, you know.” I looked down at the man, still and silent.

My hands still vibrated, now more from nerves than smashing the back of someone’s skull with a baseball bat. My legs gradually straightened and carried me away from where the man lay, still refusing to approach the door but not quite convinced to return me to the forest, and absolutely certain that I wasn’t meant to run.

My mind searched through any and all possiblities, and none I could fathom offered me a favorable outcome. I adjusted my grip on the bat, focusing my eyes deep inside the void. The voice called out again, menacing and cheeky, daring me to act.

“Take your shot, stranger. You’ll only get one.”