Death's Redemption Pt. 2

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           Honoring his agreement with the biker, the stranger placed his hand over the biker’s mouth and began to press his knife into his chest. As the life began to leave the man’s eyes, he smiled as he felt that he in some way had redeemed himself for all the crimes he had committed since the change. Once the biker was dead, the stranger took his hand and closed the man’s eyes. He said a prayer over his body like he had over the others, and he reached around the dead man’s neck and grabbed the necklace he was to deliver to the man’s sister. As he drew the necklace from the man’s jacket he saw that they were dog tags that said, Captain John Bishop USMC. This murderous biker was once a United States Marine.

         After looking around at the bodies of the men he had killed, the stranger looked up to the sky and said, “It’s not easy being an angel of death.” As he cleaned the knife he had used to put the former marine captain to rest, he bent down and grabbed a patch from the man’s jacket and tucked it in his bag. He walked five hundred yards back in the direction he came from and grabbed the forty-four rifle and twin katana swords that he had hidden in a tree trunk there and began to walk back to the road. When he reached the road he looked all around to see if anyone was there, and when he was done he ran for the forest on the other side so that he wouldn’t be seen. In this day and age it’s not safe to stay out in the open very long. Ever since the invasion, nowhere is safe for long.

         After walking for about four hours he decided to make camp in an area that was half surrounded by trees for cover, and half clear so he could see if someone was coming. After clearing out some of the brush, he began to cut down some branches so that he could set up traps for both animal and human. When he was done setting up the traps he went about walking through the campsite so that he could plan for potential escape routes. Once he knew the layout of his camp by heart he began to set up his shelter, which consisted of a tarp to set up as cover, a worn out blanket, a tore up pillow, and piece of crap mat that used to be a sleeping bag. It was a shitty camp, but to him it was the closest thing to home that he’s had to a home in months. He gathered enough timber to last him for about a day and a half in case he got delayed or it rained and his firewood got wet.  

         When all was said and done he spent three hours making sure that his camp was secure. If an enemy sentry came within sixty yards of his camp they would either be killed by one of the traps he set up, or they’d trigger the trap and make enough noise to where he’d be able to hear them coming. If had been doing this five years ago people would have thought that he was being paranoid, but in today’s world those same people would be dead. When he took a moment to examine his shelter he thought back to a camping trip he had taken with his father before the invasion. He remembered how poorly he had set up his hammock for just an over night trip and actually lowered his guard to laugh for a moment. When a branch snapped of in the distance he stopped laughing and let him self become the cold, paranoid stranger that had just killed eight people that morning. When he went to go see what had caused the noise, he saw that a rabbit had sprung one of his traps and had caused one of the twigs to snap in the process. When he reached down to grab his kill he whispered, “What’s up doc?” He knew it was wrong but he chuckled a little. Looks like Bugs didn’t get away this time.

         After he had skinned the rabbit and took out all of the uneatable organs and started a fire to cook his dinner and went to cut down some more wood. He made sure to go a long ways away from his camp to cut down the wood so that there would be no evidence of how far or close he was from the area. On his way back with the wood he stopped dead in his tracks and dropped all of his wood to grab for one of his pistols. He searched up and down a fifty-yard radius of the area until he was sure that there was nobody nearby. When he went back to grab the firewood he paused to examine the ground to process what it was that had startled him. He bent down to examine a boot print, that was not his, that had been made fairly recently. However, he concluded that whoever made the print was miles away since they were nowhere to be found when he searched the area. It doesn’t make him any less nervous though; he is still in the neutral zone after all. Bounty hunters, resistance fighters, and invader troops are in abundance in these zones. 

         Without a way of knowing if his position had been burned, he decided that he would set more traps on the perimeter of his camp and would leave at the first sign of there being someone else being in the area. When he returned to the campsite he set up some brush to try to act as camouflage over the camp so that it could only be seen from up close. By the time he was done he noticed that the rabbit was done cooking, so he stopped what he was doing so that he could stop to eat so that he could regain some of the energy that he had lost setting up camp. The harder he’d be to find the higher the likely hood that he’d live through the night. Then he felt a couple drops roll down the side of his head, and looked up and saw that the sky had turned pitch black. “Ah hell,” he complained to himself. As he started to run for his shelter it began to poor down rain as if a dam had let loose an entire lake. 

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