Last men standing

“Don’t shoot!” He calls out from behind the car. I had put a bullet through his windshield with my hunting rifle to let him know I meant business. It had been months since I’d seen a robber, but I was not going to lose another generator to carelessness.

“I’m going to come out now. I’ve left all of my weapons in the car, and I’m going to come out slowly.” He slowly rises with his hands raised above his head. I put another bullet through the passenger window. He doesn’t even flinch. He finishes standing up, and slowly walks over to me.

I put another bullet in the ground. I was not getting robbed again. I could no longer see properly out of my left eye because of bandits. He still doesn’t flinch. He just keeps walking towards me with his hands up until my gun is touching his forehead.

“If you’re not going to trust me you might as well end this right now, because I think we’re the last ones. I haven’t seen another soul in two years. Even if they exist we’re not going to find them.” I consider doing it. I consider giving that trigger a squeeze. How do I know this guy isn’t going to make himself the last man on earth when I go to bed?

Then again, if he does, I think he will have suffered the worse fate. I lower my rifle, open the chamber, drop the mag, and flip the safety on.

“Good.” He says. “Because I’ve also got the world’s last xbox in my car, and there are a whole lot of co-op games I’ve stockpiled.”

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