Sitting on the moldy-smelling sofa, I gazed at the old, battered ceiling and thought about what to do next.
I had met people, sure, but they weren't friendly. Judging from what I'd learned so far, I really wasn't
suited to meeting people out in the wilderness,
but heading straight into an unfamiliar city might also be a problem.
I needed someone who knew the way.
Maybe... the man tied to the wall would do.
I touched my cheek. It was still a little swollen and red. Strange... shouldn't swelling like this take a few days to go down?
I rubbed my stomach, stubbed out the cigarette, then turned and picked up my gun before heading downstairs.
I'd see if I could get that man to cooperate. If not, I'd let him die. And even if he did cooperate, I couldn't trust him completely.
I made my way back to the street and looked at the off-road vehicle still smoking in the distance, then at the one that was still intact. Finally, I turned my attention to the two people on the ground.
One of them was already dead—the one who'd been shot in the lungs. The other, who looked worse off but was still alive, was the one who'd been cut in half.
He was still breathing, but barely. He'd lost a lot of blood, and he'd even crawled a short distance before stopping. A trail of blood followed his path, stretching seven or eight meters.
I glanced at the man. He couldn't speak anymore; even breathing was his last struggle.
I left him alone and went over to the vehicle. Opening it, I saw the keys were still hanging in the ignition. There was a huge bison in the back, and while the other vehicle had been an off-roader,