My feet are sore. I come across a bus stop, so I drop myself into the bench and wait a little while. I notice someone else approach, and I tense up as my spine chills kick in, my hand traveling to the handle of my machete. He sits down at the bench, and just… I can’t tell if he’s passed out or not, but I don’t trust him. Actually, I don’t trust anyone, but my feet hurt so much that I can’t really turn down the chance to take a seat.

The bus thankfully arrives before I have to worry about this somehow being another ambush.

As I walk onto the bus, I have one sudden, lingering, annoying, and above all, TERRIFYING thought.

‘There is a BUS in AMBUSH, though.’

But even if they had intelligence… There’s no way they could do that, right?

Right?

It’s hard to put my faith in that idea as I encounter a small swarm of people getting off the bus before anyone can board it, my hand on my machete, ready for anything. The image of a gunslinger ready to draw briefly enters my head.

I board the bus despite my reservations. I drop a few coins in the fare box and slink almost pathetically to a seat neat the back of the bus, dropping myself into the seat to give my feet even five more minutes to rest, and some distance that I don't have to actually walk.

We stop three times as I simply try to let myself relax. Speaking of relaxing, I’m going to have to find a motel sooner or later. As tight as money is, sleeping on a park bench feels like a good way to end up dead by morning. I stare out the window and watch cars drive by, their bright lights marking their movements upon the pavement. It’s almost hypnotizing, until my spine chills flare up again and my vision snaps back to the doors as another wave of people enter the bus.

My eyes trace through the crowd, looking for anything at all out of the ordinary, but find nothing, as usual. That’s the problem, though—I’ll never really see it coming until it’s too late.

I check my phone and look for motels and convenience stores. There’s one of each further down this road, I’ll just need to wait and see where my next stop is. I spend another 5 minutes lazily staring out the window before the next stop comes. The convenience store is only 10 minutes away, and against my better judgments I step out of the bus. I stand and watch the others coming out, though only a few exit. As the bus leaves—and to my relief—the spine chills dim down.

Now, I can turn my full attention to the streets and all the walking I’ll have to do. My feet are still tired, but there’s no time to rest just yet.

It takes some walking, but I’m finally at a convenience store called the ‘Quik-Stop’, as original as that name is. For some reason, I feel my spine chills rise, but I fight it as I cross the street. As I’m walking across, I start thinking about one of those things driving a car and ramming me at full speed—perhaps the most unstoppable threat I could’ve imagined yet, but one not yet materialized. It doesn’t help ease the tension within, but I make it across without further event.

I stare at the neon sign momentarily before setting my sights on the door, opening it and entering, a bell signaling my arrival with a gentle chime. I look around, and see a clerk as well as someone sweeping through the cold aisle, probably looking to do a beer run. My eyes search the half-depleted shelves as I walk down them one by one, while one of the lights overhead flickers. The clerk watches us with an apathetic gaze as I round the corner to find a few packs of peanut butter crackers. All things considered, this was the smartest pick for the moment. I pick up the pack and notice the price tag—more than I’d expected and more than I’d like. Such is the price, though, for not getting them at the supermarket when I had the chance.

I let out a sigh of resignation as I turn to move towards the front of the store, noticing the stranger at the back moving around again. I pass by the hot food section, and pause, for but a moment entranced by the seductive call of a warm burger, resting in a wrapper under a warming light alongside others of its kind. I clutch my fist, mustering the willpower to resist buying such a sodium-loaded sandwich, as good as it would probably be for my morale. Money was already tight as it was, after all. I also catch my eyes wandering towards the slushy drink section and tightly turn my head away, my discipline quaking in its presence.

Though the checkout-section candy also tried to tempt me, it was far less effective in its efforts as I walk the rest of the way around and to the front, noting the other customer now moving to get in line behind me. Meanwhile, my spine chills ramp up further; something’s terribly wrong with this situation, isn’t it? Dread weighs my heart down as my conscious mind tries to piece together exactly what feels wrong as I set the crackers on the counter. The cashier leans forward, his apathetic state dissipating like a cloud of smoke as I catch his eyes shift before the rest of his face does.

“My, my, what do we have here? A prize that’s come right to us!” I hear heavy breathing behind me as the man in front of me shifts into another monster, and I have no doubt that the person behind me is also one of them. I try to think of a good plan as my hand rests on my machete’s handle, but nothing comes that wouldn’t probably get me killed.

All I can actually think to myself is that I’m going to die because I walked directly into a trap like a goddamned lemming.