The Walking Truth

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January 7th, Thirteen Years After The Dusting

Chapter: 1

The Dirty South

Along a broken stretch of I 94 just outside of Dallas Texas, a lone man continues walking north. The darkly clad individual walks purposefully, and without any hesitation. Two rusty blue mutts trotted gamely at his side. The three seemed out of place just out there in the open, but when compared to their surroundings... the dusty man, and the scruffy dogs wouldn't exactly blend too well in the modern day society... or well they just might.

Life these days wasn't exactly easy, and people didn't exactly fart rainbows, and belch sunshine. It actually smelled like charred metal, dirt soaked air, and the ever present scent of smoke. That's usually what would be expected when the world blows up... well that's what anyone alive would think. It's not like life as you know it stops and drops a peg or two everyday.

The dogs paused a moment, and then looked to each other, to their master, and then back in front of them.

"Yeah... I smell it too boys... burning flesh. Must be some highway men, or maybe it's something worse... keep an eye out." The man mused softly aloud to his companions. One would have thought he was crazy, but the dogs had an odd way of understanding him... it's like someone had taken a human's brain, and placed it in their bodies. Needless to say, that you didn't survive long unless you were smart, which was the case with these three, or just lucky... which was also the case.

Gripping his assault rifle firmly in his hands, the man continued forward until he saw a black object duct behind some debris about fifty yards ahead of him where an overturned semi was playing the part of tombstone. He dropped behind a small station wagon, and made two hand gestures which were aimed to the dogs. With what could be assumed as a nod, the dogs split up, one going east, and one going west while ducking behind the debris they could find.

"Dammit... I don't need this shit right now." The man muttered beneath his breath as he peered through a broken window. The black shape couldn't be seen, but he had a feeling what it was... 'Probably two of them... rifle for both, and another behind that broken section of concrete with an sub machine gun...' He thought. The man had learned that his gut often knew more than his eyes did... as if it knew what was about to happen. Perhaps that's why he was often referred to as the Soothsayer...

Ducking down behind the broken car, he finally heard a voice.

"Not often we find a Leg out round these parts... What brings ya out ta Dallas?" A scratchy voice called out behind the broken semi, which was followed with the sound of a bolt action rifle being loaded.

"Just on my way to Oklahoma... I was hoping to get past the traffic."

A cackling laugh responded "Traffic? Oh I doubt that sir... I doubt that very much. I haven't see no cars that run anymore... have you?"

The lone man sighed... "Nope... that's why I'm legging it. I'd appreciate it if you'd just let me be on my way. All I've got is the clothes on my back."

Silence... then the voice answered again. "You made it past the junction with just the clothes on ya back huh? Now why do I feel like yer bullshittin' me?" The sound of a rifle resting against a sheet of metal barely filled the air.

'He's leaning against the hood of the truck... which means the other one's... at the very back.' Flipping the safety off of his rifle, the lone man slowly slid to the drivers side of the station wagon, and peered through the window. Squinting, he could see a foot just through the overturned truck's window. As he shifted his weight he heard the sound of a revolver's hammer being cocked behind him.

"Stand up nice and quite like there..." A silky voice asked.

'Damn... they're good. Probably caught a few dusters this week with this set up... Should have known there would be one ducking in a car, or a trunk.' He thought to himself as he slowly stood up with his hands above his head, his rifle resting against his chest from it's strap.

"Now there see? You ain't going to be making a good first impression by fibbing like that." The scratchy voice called out.

From behind him, the man felt a firm thrust against his head as the revolver's handle black jacked him good, and down he went. His vision burst into lights for a second before he found himself on the ground, with the lights slowly dimming to darkness.

Chapter 1's End
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What an awesome piece!

I really love the connection of it! And of the dialog!
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