Might as well

It seems very odd just walking everywhere and you have to ask, “So... no cars then?”

“Oh there are, quite a few, just not many people know how to make gas, and the electric ones are damned expensive.”

Walking begins to take a toll on you, even though it is pretty clear this new body of yours has quite a bit of unseen strength and amazing agility as you aren’t exactly tired at all, just the boredom of it all is getting to you.

Finally he decides to take a break, “Sit down. Here I have a mystery can for ya.” He holds out a can with no label and a can opener.

“Thanks.” You take the can and take a seat next to him on an old metal bench that is all that remains of an old bus stop. The can opens easily revealing peaches in juice. He hands you a well used plastic fork and you munch down the rather delicious food. “How much farther?”

“A couple more days.” He answers. “Tomorrow we are going to see if the hounds are still all over Mart. If we can get inside we should be able to get some good stuff. It’s my own little food pantry. The dogs keep most anyone out, but I know the secret, they are hungry like anything else and I bring them some meat and scoot by while they eat. I think them recognizing me helps too.” He then points at a tall gutted and broken old building on the horizon. “That is where we can sleep, Come on it’s farther than it looks.” He helps you up.

You eventually make it to the building and find it has been converted into a small fort and you would guess it now is home to about a hundred people. “This is the town of Big Spike. Billy Drake runs it, he is a good dude, and Mary’s place has clean beds.” He leads you to the gate, pays the guard two little bullets to get in, then the two of you find the rather old west looking tavern and inn with “Mary’s” spray painted on the window. He pays for food for both of you and a room. “We are in room seven. I am exhausted. Here is a key.” He hands you a key, takes his food and drink, and heads up a staircase.

You sit and eat and just sort of people watch, as you aren’t really all that tired.

About an hour later a man in an old suit, combat boots, and a wide hat walks up to your table. He has a shoulder holster for his big revolver and a shotgun slung on his back. “How much to suck my dick?” He asks.