“Get up off your feet!” yelled a unknown man.
I didn’t know what happened, but worse, I didn’t know what was happening. The sounds of footsteps neared my body, but I was too hurt to react.
“Ok, looks like you need some assistance then.” Said the man.
Suddenly, I felt a set of hands grip my left side and violently flip me on my back to see a wooden rifle stock smash into my cheek bone… This wasn’t the way it was supposed to turn out, I came too close this time. But I guess the sayings true, ‘War, war never changes.’
Rolling down down I-94 to Dearborn from Detroit would normally be something considered normal, by normal people. But in this new world, this terror filled world, normal is ...view middle of the document...
“What’s your business in Dearborn?” asked the guard.
“Looking to do a bit of trading, but mostly looking to buy some supplies.”
“Alright, you’ll have to keep your weapons on your vehicle, stay out of trouble.” answered the guard.
The flatbeds turned on and opened up for me, I drove by, parked on the side of the road and walked to the local bar for a drink, keeping a larger 44. semi-auto pistol in my black trench coat. I stepped into the old blues bar, it had a thick old smell to it, like most building in the wastes. There was four others in the bar having a drink, so I grabbed a seat next to one of them and asked the owner for whatever they had. The owner handing me a glass and I exchanged him some ammunition, most people accepted it as currency, I took a sip and assumed it was some kind of home-made lager.
“How’s the local flavour?” asked one of the man next to me.
“Tastes better than the city’s, that’s for sure.” I replied.
He extended his arm to shake my hand and I responded with a firm handshake.
“The name’s Leot Wilson, how about you?” he asked.
“Oh, Ewan good to meet you.” I answered.
“Not from around here, huh? The city you said?” he questioned.
“Yep, stopping here for supplies and a quick drink then it’s the road back for me.” I replied.
He turned and I got a better view of him. He had black shaggy hair that covered his ears and a black patch chin hair that stretched down under his neck into a shadow of hair.
“You know I’ve heard of ways of getting into Windsor through a tunnel, that cross your mind?” asked Leot.
“That’s thing been sealed for years man, has it crossed your mind that it’s not happening.” I returned.
“ Hey no need to come off so hard, I’ve been there once before and know it well, I’ll make
you a deal, bring me back with you, and we just might be able to leave this country, you hear me?” explained Leot.
I thought about that for a second. The fact that I was a Detroit native and him, somebody that I barely knew, and he knew this more than me, angered me a bit. Then I realized that this might be the only chance I had to leaving this place, so I took a leap of faith.
“You know what Leot, I may know you from a hole in the ground, but what does that matter when everyone in this place has the same story to tell.” I said.
This might not have been the best decision but it was a chance so I took it.
“I like your thinking pal.” said Leot.
I nodded to him and took another gulp of the brew and set it down.
“So when we leaving Ewan?” asked Leot with a slight smile.
“I got to stop a by a shop and pick up some fuel, water and maybe some ammo.” I said.
“After our drinks I’ll take you to the spot.” replied Leot.
“Sounds like a plan.” I agreed.
With that I took a final drink of what was remaining in my glass and handed it to the owner, as did Leot. We got up and Leot led the way down the road into a half wrecked building where I picked myself up a jug of water, enough gas to bring my motorcycle...