Chance presented his hand to Charles. Charles, looking fairly baffled at the strange recovery the boy made, hesitantly extended his own hand to clasp Chance's. The two hands met, crossing palms over one another like a regular shaking gesture, then Chance drew in. Charles was taken aback by the sudden pulling force and lurched forwards before he realized Chance had begun to half kneel. 

Placing Chance into a one armed shoulder assist, keeping the injured arm elevated above the shoulders, Charles began to trod in the direction when Chance came from. Chance drug his feet, pulling back slightly, throwing off the equilibrium of the duo. They staggered for a moment until Charles bit down with his feet in the soil and took the brunt of his weight.

"Look 'ere... I know what  y'as thinking. Y'er wanting some first aid? T'bad there are probably more survivors tha're thinking like you."

Chances eyebrows raised subtly. Charles continued, "So  iffin  you want to go fight fer more wounds, go'n ahead. But, I ain't helping y'as." 

A peppered expression flew on Chances face. He grit his teeth and pushed off of Charles, staggering once more for a few steps. When he was stablized, he growled, "Why do you care?" His eyes shot poison at Charles. "I'm in pain," he uttered with a ruined voice. "I need help."

Charles sat as Chance vented. He reached in the front pocket of his camouflaged tactical shirt. From the pocket, he pulled a metal case, from the case came a cigarette and lighter. Charles lit the cigarette, took a long drag, and exhaled slowly. He then offered the fag to Chance.

"Look," Charles said coyly, "yer acting like this' re fag. Yo're burning up, and will end soon. I need people t'watch my back. I don't need fags like you."

Chance became even more enraged only the strength he had was like a false bravado. He felt like a candle in the wind. He huffed, breathing in the newly polluted air, and puffed with his hands on his knees. His eyes still carried a wary glint to them.

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"Look'ere," Charles continued, rubbing the orange stubble on his brown face, "it's gettin darker 'n darker. Yo're out of gas. Other may be lurkin about. Yo're injured, and I ain't killed ya yet. Why so hesitant."

Chance held a distant glare in the back of his eyes. He muttered in the most silent way he could, " Ya shot at me..."

Charles looked like a trout jumping up stream. He cackled loudly and provokingly. He seemed almost like he had forgotten the three rounds he fired from the handgun he lifted. "It was fate," he said between laughs, "that I'm such a terrible shot. God didn't want you dead twice now."

Chance screamed, "God, what God? It may as well be a dog for someone to eat! I'll be my own god."

Charles eyes took on a queer light. He stepped back, in a defensive form, and sighed. Charles bowed his head and said, "If there's no God, why's all this shit happen'd? Nucl'ar weapons wh're no one got roasted? We're not dead of radiatin." Charles looked up to Chance and laughed, "We're not dead to suffer. Chance. We're here for redempshin. We don't choose when we die."

Spitting Chance turned, he looked over his shoulder, and waved his good arm. "Right, you hillbilly fanatic. I'm gone."

Chance turned to limp five steps before the sound of a cocked gun came from the back of his head. The gun was a standard six shot police issued revolver. The iron sight stuck to his head.

"I gave ya a chance, Chance." Charles said. "God gave ya chances, nah rot in hell. Hopefully, I c'n get into Gawds good graces offa gettin rid of a blasphemer."

The clock fully set on the revolver. Cold sweat peeled down Chances back. 

"You're right," he said, head lowered, breathing shallower breaths, "end it."

Charles slowly squeezed the trigger, and just as the hammer fell, a loud screening noise came from above. Charles jerked his head up to look at the dimly lit purple sky for the first time. Night had come quickly, and with it a black shadowed figure appeared. It was a monstrosity that flew like an f150 plane. It was headed right for them.

Charles repositioned his gun to the skie and began to fire. Three dense noises of ricocheting bullets occurrs. The gun clicked empty, and Charles looked wide eyes at the impending doom the figure brought as it cascaded downwards. Chance collapsed right as two massive claws took half of Charles body. The remains were left, and the beast of prey flew into the distance. 

Now, Charles remaining body was left staggering, falling, kneeling, and lying prostrate before the unconscious Chance.