The Bowl/Issue 17

This issue is written by a pirate. With state names.

Issue 17, Barely Sane
On an arid field stood a tent, a small campfire in front of it. A young man, or even a boy, as he didn't seem to have passed 18 yet, sat in front of the fire.

"Is it getting colder? You cold? Yeah me too."

The boy seemed to be talking to a bag, while stroking a small revolver.

"I think we left Nevada a long time ago. Off course we haven't seen a sign, we were walking off-road. Why are you always challenging me?"

The boy opened another bag and took small cart-board box out, opened it and took a live mouse out and put the box back. He dropped the mouse into the bag he had been talking to, where it was met by the teeth of a zombified young man's head.

"Here. Happy now. You are a real dick lately, especially considering you haven't been doing anything productive since that night in Oklahoma."

The boy looked away in remorse.

"I'm sorry about that by the way. I mean I said it before, but I really am. If I hadn't fallen asleep, Jimmy and Virginia would still be alive. I'm sorry about it, I really am. I know you loved her, but I can't bring her back."

The boy jumped up. In the distance he saw a green light, he remembered being used as a laser sight on a gun, a gun in the hands of a raider leader.

"Looks like those Arizona Thugs found us. Or at least caught our trail. Seems like they still pissed about you biting that guy's hand off."

The boy broke down the tent, sweat running over his pale forehead. As he finished getting all his bags on his back, walked off, only to turn back for the bag with the head in it, carrying it by his side.

"Almost forgot you, Marc. Allright, sorry."

He smiled.

"I just hope Oregon will be better to us. Maybe some people can help us there." He sighed, before he walked off into the night.