Henry's darkened scars felt the comfort of a light breeze as it whipped up the grit and sand that lay on the long abandoned road, leaving them trapped in the obsidian hair of his, a few strays clinging his thin eyelashes. It had been a while since he had strolled over to the ancient bus, perhaps a week or two he couldn't recall, the door had rusted closed again.

"Well shoot, don't lock me out baby!" Direson spoke as he always did, mono tone and slow - but at the same time, somehow, with emotion. He spoke to himself quiet a bit, sometimes under his breath without even noticing or shouting so loud it hurt his lungs when another damn molerat came blindly charging his way. Henry's dirty black hands wrapped around the small ridge between the door and the frame of the bus and pulled, one boot slammed steadfast flat against the faded orange metal. After a few heavy groans and exclamations of less than clean language when the metal cut deeper than it should, the door broke free at the top and Henry picked up the tire iron that was stuck onto the rear wheel.

Walking back Henry thought he heard something hit the bus and ducked quickly to the floor, after a few moments he peered in through the window to see it empty, the source of the noise laying still on the floor. Taking the Tire Iron in both hands the cold metal pressed up against his palm and sent aches through his fingers, he wedged it in the gap and pulled with all his strength.

Rubbing the dust from his ass, Henry stood and swore some more at his own stupidity and at the damn door for making him fall back like that. Stepping into the vehicle, the breeze still followed him as the right side of it had been tore way, he couldn't risk climbing over though. The toy doll lay next to the front seat beside the skeleton of the child, dust has found its way onto the bone so Henry took a rag from the floor and spat into it. Rubbing away the thick dust and replacing the toy between the child's legs, Henry smiled to himself - the dead should be respected and burying the kid would only be giving some rad creature a nice bone to chew. 

Henry did this any time the toy was out of place or the bones dusty, the clothing and flesh had long since disappeared and so he called the kid  Alex cos' it was neither male nor female. Turning away from the remains Henry walked back outside and took his rifle from where it stood up against the adjacent car, brushed away a small string of plastic from the scope, and walked on back to the bus. All the other chairs were empty but Henry preferred the back because he could lay down and relax instead of crouch - which did his knees no favors. So he stepped up to the back with three steps and a small hop over the steps and set up camp.

Hauling his bag over his shoulder he took out a book 'Elvis was here' which he enjoyed, it was about some old singer and the places they went - boring really but the pictures were great. Henry also took out a Nuka Cola bottle he had been saving and a packet of God knows what that a trader had given him for free - he trusted Old Mike Sapper, but he wasn't sure whether or not his mouth was the best place to put this stuff. Along with the Nuka bottle Henry retrieved a small length of old wire he had hollowed out and cleaned, it made for a good straw. Once his feet were snug against the back of the seats and his rifle was between the ridges of the window, Direson pushed his head up against the butt - and as he always seemed to be doing, looked through the scope.

The magnification wasn't the best he'd had, the retrofit last week had set him back a bit, once again a dumb mole rat jumped up onto his gun, practically threw its face into his muzzle, fucker scratched the x12, the x8 would have to do for now. As he peered threw the lense Henry saw nothing but dust, the usual trashed cars and toppled house, the shopping cart that made him giggle , a dead raider sat limply in it that he had shot months back, and a man?

"What the fu_" Henry hadn't time to finish his muttered sentence before the figure disappeared behind a pile of junk. Switching his sights to iron, Henry spotted a second figure approaching the first, tell tale helmet of a raider - the sparkle of a blade in the sandy sunlight. Pushing his mag scope back into place he aimed ahead of there path and fired. The bullet ripped through there chest, but the blood fired out from there side, an armor plate or something of the sort had switched the bullets trajectory as it hit - the raider picked up in a run. Pulling back his bolt he aimed again and his finger squeezed the trigger.

Out of nowhere a shot came from behind the raider and pinged of the bus, Henry heard the child remains fall clumsily to the bus floor, a small rib flying from it and off the highway bridge to the road below.

"YOU F U C K E R!" Henry bellowed and fired a covering shot toward the flash that fired another bullet again, a second shot sparking off the window that Henry shot from. looking quickly with his outside eye Henry saw the blade wielder was still a way off the man behind the junk so he emptied his lungs and flicked his mags to full x8.

He saw the bastard hidden behind a rock, a khaki colored rag around him, almost hidden but not from Henry. Two points east and a low wind, Henry adjusted and fired, the butt of his rifle painfully smacking into his shoulder with his position prone compromised and unstable. The bullet hit and he saw the body fall cold. It didn't take him long to do the same for the blade wielder, and just in time to, they were but feet away from the hidden figure, their dead body was likely thrown to their feet. A way up the road another person, female or male was unknown, but definitely stupid - flaying there arms around waving at someone.

Raiders weren't smart but they weren't dumb either, whoever it was wasn't a threat. "It's gonna be one of those days!" Henry said to himself roughly in the empty bus, he then went quickly to the skeleton and put it back where it belonged.

[@Dasomen]