"So what was the kill word?"
He didn't smile. He also didn't like me. Some people were like that. I just had to enter a room and it was all downhill for them.
Sleepyhead Dad sensed it too and said "Son. Did you see that? The man knows how to handle them guns."
"I saw it. I saw him come walking by the house too. Came out of nowhere,"
The trailer door was open now and a tow headed kid of 16 was staring in at me. He had a pump action shotgun hanging low and loose in his hand. He looked okay. Too bad he was going to have to go first if his friend kept pushing.
Looking at the kid made me realize how old I was getting. America, or what passed for it now, had two big age groups for the most part. My generation, the generation young enough to survive the big die off after PowerDown, which had killed most of the real young, the out of shape middles, the fat and medicated, and the old. Now all the survivors kids were of age or coming into it.
I decided to end the bullshit. I didn't want to be standing around in this sweat box chatting all day.
"Jacob. You got a vehicle that runs?"
What a surly fuck I thought. "Because I'll pay you to run me into town. That's why."