Five hundred fifty pairs of feet and five hundred fifty eyes. As he dragged his feet through mud and snow, the scavenger walked amongst the wretched. An exodus of men, cowards and the defeated…

  As the crowd lumbered its way through the snow, the wretched discussed amongst themselves. Some of them whispered, others muttered, but none spoke.

  Felix listened but could not hear. The snow quieted the sounds of the downtrodden and the defeated.

  As he walked behind the crowd in front of him, Felix suddenly felt a warm gale blow across his left ear. Shocked, he craned his head left to see the eye of a ragged and long-haired man piercing his gaze.

  The long-haired man leaned toward Felix and whispered, “I see you also like to view things from afar… too bad that didn’t help you escape when the governor’s men surrounded us…”

  Felix glanced at the man. Browning blood spatter dotted the man’s jacket… and an empty machete holster sat along his waist.

  After a few moments, Felix leaned in and whispered, “You seem awfully bloodied for a man that likes distance.”

  The long-haired man erupted with a series of sounds, either that of a wheezing cackle or that of a high-pitched whine, Felix could not tell.

  The long-haired man then whispered closely to Felix’s ear “One of the fuckers tried to jump me at the beginning… Slit his throat… I suppose he won’t be a cause of concern anymore…”

  He then craned his head, noticing Felix’s boots. A perfect pair of leather marchers, somehow preserved from pre-incineration, its branding still visible.

  Then he continued, “Say, I don’t think I remember any scavengers living around Green Valley, where’d you get a fine pair of marchers like those? Couldn’t have been off the market at Old Continenta…”

  Felix slowly closed his fists and responded, “Yuma.”

  The long-haired man leaned back slowly then smiled before whispering in response, “I meant not to threaten you friend… just wondering why you’re here.”

  Felix snorted, then said, “Eduardo offered food, a gun and a bed. I took it.”

  The long-haired man let out a single laugh before leaning back in and whispering, “You know, he promised me a whole homestead when this was over. I don’t suppose I’ll be getting that now, will I?”

  He paused for a moment, glanced at the hundreds of men ahead, then continued, “Look at this lot… any of these men look like soldiers to you? Must’ve made a lot of promises to get this many people to take up guns in his name.”

  Felix analyzed the crowd again. As he surveyed the wretched that stood before him, he realized. He saw the red hats of homesteaders, rags around ankles and the bright grey hats worn by refugees fleeing Silver City. Half these men probably never held a gun before, and none had ever fought a war. This wasn’t a militia; this was a mob, a mob of which he joined.

  He turned to the long-haired man and spoke, “This is no army… this was a distraction. An aimless hoard sent south to its slaughter at the hand’s governor and his men. Now we are meant to live the rest of our lives with one less eye… Where was del Campo? Where were his soldiers?”

  Cold droplets of spit flew out of Felix’s mouth and on to the long-haired man.

  The long-haired man spoke, “Last I saw the officers that lead us, they were in a ditch.”

  Felix retorted, “You mean to say he only had two officers? The whole of Green Valley had two men in it. When I entered the town, I heard he had seven-hundred-armed men!”

  The long-haired man then said with great sarcasm, “Indeed, and with us, I suppose it could’ve been 2,300. With so great a number of soldiers, we should have surely defeated the governor’s 12,000 on our lonesome!”

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  The long-haired man spat onto the ground and muttered… “Backstabbing bastard.”

  Before another word could have been uttered, Felix slammed into the man ahead of him, before stumbling back.

  Felix lifted his head, panning it across the view before him, he realized why the men had stopped. Before them there was a great piece of cement and tar. It was snow-covered but unmistakable. I-19.

  The wretched, just as Felix had done before, began to speak.

  Some desired to return to their families, others wished to flee, others wanted to migrate east.

  Suddenly and sharply, a man with a thin black mustache shouted. He cut through the flurry of conversations with the voice of a Winchester, and proclaimed, “I do not know about you, but I plan to return to Eduardo’s service. None of us betrayed him, and as far as I am concerned, his dealings with us are still on the table. Now, I am going to give you a choice. Head northbound on the I-19 and rejoin the good Mayor or flee, like the cowards you are!”

  A red-headed man from within the crowd responded, “Were you born dense! We marched south with promise of reinforcement, only to be ambushed and slaughtered. We were promised reinforcement and look what we have gotten!”

  Shouts quickly burst out from the wretched. First a few, then a number, then a torrent.

  The long-haired man then screamed as loud as he could “STOOOOOOOOOOOP!”, but to little avail.

  He continued repeatedly, begging for a cessation of sound.

  At hearing this, some of the wretched began to quiet. At first a few, then a number, then all.

  The long-haired man then scanned the crowd and asked, “Which of you has a compass?”

  A skeleton-like man wearing a bright-grey hat stepped forward. He pulled a compass out of his coat pocket, showing it to the rest of the wretched.

  Then the long-haired man shouted, “Could we not come to a point of agreement. Those who wish to remain in the service of Eduardo should be pointed north, those who wish to abandon his service be pointed south.”

  The black-mustached-man replied, “I will allow no such thing! We march north, and those who wish to flee shall be driven away!”

  A growing cascade of sound resumed. First a grumble, then shout, then a cacophony of screams, shouts and cries.

  Felix felt it. Lightening…

  Sound… too much sound… men preparing to fight… it must end.

  Slowly, he pushed his way through the crowd, picked up a rock off the floor… approached the black-mustached man, and raised the rock above his head. The man didn’t see him to his side.

  Felix glanced at the man’s eye… It was green… He slammed the rock into the man’s head.

  The black-mustached man let out a drawn-out screech as he tumbled to the floor, blood flowing down the side of his skull.

  Felix stared.

  The wretched stared.

  The long-haired man laughed.

  Five hundred and forty-eight eyes stared silently, five hundred and forty-seven staring at one.

  The red-headed man broke the silence, “You didn’t have to kill the bastard!”

  Felix retorted, “And what, have a riot break out among us!”

  He paused while breathing heavily, then continued, “Lets all just go our separate ways. To those that need to go home, go home. To those who have no family, let them travel elsewhere. And to those who wish to re-enter Eduardo’s service, let them.”

  The wretched remained silent.

  The long-haired man then interjected, “Perhaps if the man bearing the compass would inform us, we could all be on our separate ways.”

  The skeleton-like man held the compass and stated, “To go north, one would have to turn right onto the I-19. To head south, one would have to turn left.”

  One by one, the wretched turned their heads away from Felix and on to the road. Their path to their future. Metaphorical and physical.

  One by one, group by group, and crew by crew. The wretched began to depart.

  The long-haired man approached Felix with a wide grin, and stated “The way I see it, traveling alone would be a miserable idea in our current state of affairs, would it not?”

  Felix stared at the I-19 and didn’t respond.

  The long-haired man continued, “Where do you plan on heading?”

  Felix turned his head slowly and looked at the abandoned body.

  The long-haired man commented, “You killed the man. I don’t think he is going to get back up and start walking home like the rest.”

  A tear began to form in Felix’s eye.

  The long-haired man glanced at him and said, “Well, what can you do? Ground is too cold to bury him.”

  Felix responded, “At least leave him beneath a tree and carve a message into the trunk. Anyone who finds him in the Summer can give him a more proper burial”.

  The long-haired man then said, “Carve a message… with what? Plus, I am sorry to inform you, but I can’t read.”

  Felix, focused on the corpse responded softly, “I can.”

  Felix approached the body and grabbed it by the coat.

  The long-haired man approached the corpse and stared at its coat.

  Felix dragged the corpse beneath the closest tree, a pine of some sort. Middle-aged.

  The Long-haired man stared at Felix in bewilderment.

  Felix picked up the rock and crudely carved “Unoan. Murdered man. Bury. Bles him.”

  Felix then stood up and approached the I-19.

  The long-haired man followed.

  As Felix again gazed at the I-19, the long-haired man then asked, “Where do you plan on heading? North?”

  Felix responded, “No. I will head to the south… to the left.”

  The long-haired man exclaimed, “Hah! So begins our exodus. By the way, the name’s Plutarco!”