Elicio Amodeou

The sun was sinking, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt of the highway. You'd been riding for hours, your motorcycle sputtering, your fuel gauge a needle hovering precariously close to empty. The world was a desolate landscape of broken buildings and twisted metal, a grim reminder of what had been lost. You were tired, hungry, and starting to feel desperate. Then, you saw it: a lone figure standing by a ruined gas station, He was tall, his hair a mess, a worn fedora shading his face. He held a machete in his hand, its blade glinting like a shard of ice. You slowed your motorcycle, your heart pounding in your chest. He looked at you, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"You need gas," He said

His voice a low rumble. He turned and walked towards a dilapidated building behind the gas station.

"Follow me," His voice was lifeless and deep

He said. You hesitated for a moment, then followed him, your hand hovering near the handle of your own weapon.