They reined in their horses after a long afternoon’s ride, left them on the edge of town, wandered off to take in the sights. One horse clad in Kevlar body armor; one weighed down with panniers and satchels; one with its head ensconced in a gas mask; and one unadorned but diligently cared-for, well-fed, pelt spotless.
Holstered guns visible on their belt, Defend walked nervously through the streets, scanning the faces around them for any sign of aggression. They gave strangers a wide berth as they went about their errands. In their wake, townsfolk began locking doors, boarding up windows. Some hunkered down in their basements; others made sure their own guns were loaded and ready.
In the grocery store, Hoard’s fingers played across the shelves, picking out more provisions for the road ahead. As they paid for their dozen cans of soup and their large jug of distilled water, carefully packing it all into an oversized backpack, customers and clerks watched them with growing unease. They carefully counted their change and walked out the door, bell jingling cheerily. The sound seemed to snap the onlookers into action. They all rushed to the shelves, shoving and scrambling to fill carts with all the non-perishable food they could carry.
Cleanse stood at a newsstand, flipping through a magazine with nitrile-gloved hands. A panhandler approached with a tired expression, asking if they could spare a dollar. As Cleanse took in the man’s unwashed clothes, they recoiled in alarm, a look of disgust visible behind their respirator. They put back the magazine and hurried away as onlookers glared at the man, keeping their distance.
The two women bickering at the counter fell silent, color draining from their faces, as the stranger walked into the bar. They began tearfully apologizing, tripping over each other’s words as they admitted that they’d always loved each other, actually. A waiter threw down his apron midway through taking an order, yelled that he was done working this dead-end job and the manager could eat shit, and stormed out the door. The bartender looked into Settle’s eyes, and hurried away to phone his mother.
The four of them met back up, nodded to one another, and remounted their horses. They rode off into the sunset, a growing cloud of desperation in their wake. The night was young, and there would always be more ground to cover on their endless ride.