Silas obediently followed the shorter man throughout the small complex that was the Marshalls office. And as he walked he took some time to reflect on the current turmoil that was his emotional state. He was feeling many emotions at this time. Shame, for leaving the villagers. Anger, at his own weakness. But at the moment the most overpowering feeling that he felt was curiosity. Curiosity at the world, at his newfound prowess and at this mystery job he had been granted. And so he followed, putting himself on auto-pilot and zoning out of his worries for the briefest of moments and immersing himself in the song of the town.

Floorboards creaked slightly under his large frame, a testament to the sturdiness of the structure most would be making much louder and more pained noises. People hustled and bustled in the rooms around him giving the song a fast and urgent tempo. And then, underlying it all was the sorrowful lament that was a town in mourning.

It was a suffocating sound that did nothing to aid his current attitude.

He was anxious to leave. To be submerged once more in the peace of the wilds and it would seem that he was about to get his wish.

Silas walked outside the building and into the hot noonday sun, the older gentleman pointed animatedly at a board Silas had come to know all too well over the years.

It was the bounty board.

It was made out of roughly cut wooden logs for a skeletal structure and with several thin wood planks of what Silas assumed was the same wood making the center and the actual board.

But on closer inspection the small man wasn't pointing to the board, he was, in fact, pointing to a notice attached to it, one depicting equally familiar face.

Robert Clark Carwhittle, or as he was better known to the world. Bloody Bob. Silas stared at the new notice in a mixture of subdued respect and annoyance. Not only had the man managed to survive the town considering the fact that this notice was new. But he had also managed to go to the next town over and cause havoc. None could say he wasn't committed.

"I believe you two are already acquainted." Drawled out the other man in an amused fashion.

"Yeah, I s'pose you could say that."

"Well, the bastard has managed to get himself in some more trouble." He said while lifting his finger momentarily from the notice before pointing at a different part of it. "See this reward." He said before waiting for an affirmative nod from Silas.

"Jesus, $5,000!" Silas exclaimed excitedly. Money being worth what it is right now that could be considered a small fortune.

"Yeah, breathe it all in. That reward is being posted by the whole town of Claxon. Apparently, Bob here after trying to shoot your sorry ass skipped town and has presumptuously declared himself the warlord of all South Carolina." The other man paused to take a breath having gotten to carried away in his own explanation. Silas just watched on amusedly.

"Now, as you can imagine people are quite annoyed at this development so they have decided to give the matter to us, the U.S Marshalls." He said proudly while pushing out his chest with the badge of office on it.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"And we have decided to give it to you, so what do ya say Silas, you in?" The man looked at Silas expectantly, pronouncing the word 'we' in a fashion that gave no illusion of who had truly pushed for Silas to have this well-paying job. For several tense seconds as Silas deliberated.

Of course, he was in, his whole reason for going to the marshalls today was to get out of town and this would do that and let him settle a score with that scumbag Bob.

"Reuven you had me at 'self-proclaimed warlord.'" Silas spoke with a sly smile, he was excited.

"Alright then son, you ride in the morning cause my wife wants ya to stay for dinner. Also, don't arrive drunk or I'll have to shoot ya, ok. Until then I don't care where you go but you can't stay here. It's a place of business not for loitering." The man who was apparently named Reuven said hurriedly as he ushered Silas outside.

And that was how Silas found himself standing in the middle of a dusty South Carolina street in the middle of the apocalypse, half listening to a doomsayer priest who had somehow segued from the recent loss of many children and families into a tirade about the obscene nature of masturbation and the likelihood that many of the people struck down were done so because of that very reason.

Silas shook his head in disapproval and walked toward his favorite place in the town. Barbara's Bar the name was a pun and Silas knew for a fact that the place was no longer owned by a 'Barabara.' The last person to own the place of that name having been killed by a freak shot in a duel in town. It was a truly sad day.

Silas walked into the wooden structure whilst throwing open the saloon doors proudly, trying his hardest to shrug off the negative feelings of earlier he walked directly to the bar hoping to have a few drinks before going to Reuven's house for dinner. Silas was already salivating, the woman was an amazing cook.

Silas walked into the bar and was met with a distinct lack of dirty looks. Odd, usually when you walk in here several bums, still drunk from yesterday glare at you for a couple of seconds, today there was none of that. It wasn't too suspicious, because of the whole apocalypse and everything but the fact that the bartender was not there was truly something, the man was a grade a shut-in, and Silas doubted that even the apocalypse could make him leave his bar. Something suspicious was going on here.

He was proved right by a scream wafting upward from the second story. Silas ran up the stairs as fast as his large frame would let him. The reason for his current urgency? Was it some kind of random act of heroism brought on by his new guilty disposition? Maybe. But it was far more likely the fact that Jim the bartender made some of the best drinks in town. And this was confirmed by the hungry glint in Silas's eye.

Woe is the man who tried to get between him and a good drink.