I walked over to inspect the body of the slain beast when I heard a voice behind me. I started, nearly leaping from my own skin.
"I thought you were a goner, but I guess you had that one," the voice said.
I turned to look at the speaker and saw that it was a young male of average hight with close-cropped black hair. He wore a simple t-shirt with jeans and had an ammo belt draped over his shoulder. A machete hung at his waist and a backpack was slung over his shoulder. He casually hefted a shotgun in his arms, an Ithaca model by the looks of it.
I reacted immediately, snapping my magnum up to point at his head.
He laughed a little and put his hands up in a peaceful manner, gesturing for me to calm down. "Relax, I'm a friend...whatever your name is," he said. His voice carried a strange accent that I couldn't quite place.
I stared at him for a minute. Trust didn't come easily, especially not in this environment. It shouldn't come easy to anyone. So why was this newcomer so easygoing?
"My name's Raze," I said, "Trion Raze."
He nodded, then looked around and began moving past me off into the gray landscape, skirting around a pile of rubble. "Well, maybe I'll seeya later, maybe I won't."
I blinked, my gun still trained on him. "Hey! I didn't say you could move! And what the heck is your name anyway!? I told you mine, after all."
He turned once more. "You know you can trust me," he said, "because I could've shot you but a moment ago when you had your back turned." He smiled. "And I apologize for my manners. My name is Vox Ivanov."
"Are you heading into town?" I asked, glancing at the pack he had slung over his shoulders.
"Indeed," he nodded. "I'm a delivery boy. Just carrying a few supplies that have been requested of my employer. Charged batteries and such. What about you?"
"I'm going to town as well. Safety in numbers?"
"That sounds like a good idea," he responded, stepping a bit closer. "What business have you in the town, Mr. Raze?"
"My business is my own," I replied curtly. Then I started to walk.