Snippet #1714189

Yashie shook his head. "I shall not risk you reanimating, and having to burn you after you died but before you reanimated would be ... painful. Fabric can be obtained quite easily, I assume. We shall see." He kicked the shirt with his foot onto the head of one of the zombie that he had just exterminated, kicking the head to one side of the road. He had just taken his matchbox out and was striking a match against the side and simultaneously thinking of asking Gabriel for his name and of suggesting that they go indoors and procure some food when two people, a very old, quite grown-up man, complete with a beard. Yashie first saw his pizza-paddle and only then took in the face of the man, and had circumstances been more favorable, he would have said something about how he and the stranger were weapon-brothers, given how the head of the Pizza peel resembled the spade end of his Monk's Spade. However, having a few guns pointed at him was not a situation conducive to childish statements, so he shook his head.

"Where's Terry? His Family? Who are you? You? You?" The man seemed to have a female confederate, also armed. They were probably bandits, people who sought to profit from disaster and stealing from, and killing survivors for their supplies. There were always unscrupulous elements, no matter what situation the society was in. He dropped the match and looked at the two. "I'm Yashie ... this is Diana. That is ... erm ... I haven't got his name yet. We don't know Terry ... who are you, if I may ask? What do you want?" Even as he said this, his mind went through simulations of the situation turning violent but it always ended bad for him. They had guns and were clearly ready to shoot. Maybe they were here to raid the store? He didn't know.

He turned around and shrugged helplessly at Diana and Gabriel as if to say he had no idea what was going on. In order to keep his hands from shaking he drew another match, lit it and held it to a piece of scrap newspaper. He then held that to the sleeve of the shirt, waiting for it to catch on fire. Once it ignited, he held his blade over the fire, heating it to sterilize it. He kept his eyes on the other two, however, feeling apprehension rise in him.