You could really use those supplies.

You get behind the hood of a battered Prius and look through the scope with your rifle. Three men, each dressed in old clothes they’d likely pulled off some unfortunate dead pilgrims. Each one laughing and shooting with handguns or rifles.

Ok. Ok, not impossible. These guys were focused on the guy behind the van, so they wouldn’t notice if you went up and snatched a little something from one of their cars or bikes. And it wasn’t as if you had anything to feel about. These men obviously weren’t very nice.

Right, right. You take a step forward, still crouched down. The man behind the van was still screaming and firing blindly. You felt bad for the guy, of course, but as long as he was fighting, he had a chance. He just needed to keep his distance, stay patient, and make use of the wind. The pollen was obscuring everything, so if he was smart he would–

Your thoughts are interrupted by the man screaming so loud it becomes raw, and running out from behind the van, firing at the men as he sprinted into the open.

Oh, no. No, no, what the fuck was he doing? The bandits were obviously thinking the same thing, because the screaming man actually seemed to catch them off guard, long enough for him to land a bullet into one of their chests.

Holy shit, would he actually be able to–?

BANG. You blink, and the screaming man’s head is opened up by a rifle bullet. His blood and brains are still flying through the air even as he drops dead to the dusty ground like a sack of bricks.

You stare at the corpse with wide eyes. The left corner of the guy’s head is gone; an eye dangling from its socket above a mouth still frozen in the scream that he obviously thought would have given him some sort of magical strength.

The bandit that shot the guy curses; walking to the body and kicking it.

“Dumb piece of shit,” you hear him growl. He turns in your direction and you quickly drop down again to the ground. Luckily, the pollen is doing a good job of keeping you covered - but you can feel the winds dying down.

“Marcus!” he yells. “How’s Davis?”

The bandit closest to you jogs up to the bandit who was shot in the chest and leans down, placing a hand on him before standing up again and rubbing the back of his head. “Ah, he’s fucking dead,” he says, annoyed.

The lead bandit spits on the ground and tuts. “Idiot. Caught off guard by this?” he punctuates his word with another kick to the ribs of the corpse, which barely moves.

The lead bandit sighs and walks up to the van. “We better get a good haul out of this. Take Davie’s gun and put it in your car. We’ll need to bring his bike back, too.”

“Gotcha,” Marcus sighs as he leans down again and starts undoing Davis’s straps.

You slowly back away. Ok, this was definitely too hot now. You didn’t fancy being seen by these two idiots, not with your distraction dead on the ground. You could feel the wind dying down quickly, too, and once the pollen settled there would be nothing to obscure you. Time to go.

You turn and slowly begin inching away when another scream pierces the air; loud, shrill and feminine.

You freeze and slowly turn around. The screams are mixed in with laughs now, and the lead bandit appears again from around the van, giggling as he dragged a young woman by the hair behind him, crying; her long, thin skirt flowing behind her..

Oh, shit.

The girl struggles against him but the large man hauls her up and pushes her against the van, grinning and grabbing her face.

“Aren’t you pretty?” he chuckles. She thrashes and flails, but his grip is iron, pinning her arms above her head against the upturned van and another large hand squeezing her cheeks.

“Fucking hell!” Marcus laughs, leaping up from Davis’s corpse. “Where was she hiding?”

“Back of the van,” the lead grins. “Thought she could stay quiet and wait for us to leave. Go get the rope from your car, Markie. The boys are gonna love this.”

Marcus giggles and starts walking back to the car you’re behind, but your eyes are trained on the lead bandit and the girl.

Not my problem, you remind yourself, holding your rifle tightly. Not my problem.

“You’re really pretty, huh?” the lead grins as he slides a hand up her shirt.

The girl grunts and spits in his face, making the bandit snarl and swing his hand against her face. She cries out and collapses to the ground, but he’s on her in a moment, wrenching her roughly upwards again.

Don’t do it, you think desperately; whether to yourself or the bandit, you’re not even sure anymore. Don’t do it. Don’tdoitdon’tdoitdon’tdoitdon’t–

The bandit pins her back up against the van and roars, hands ripping away at her shirt; making her scream louder than ever.

Fuck. FUCK!

Marcus is almost at the car. Whether you leave or stay to help; there’s no time to think about it.