Felix and you had found a decent hideout in an abandoned town. No sign of infected, no sign of life, nothing. Felix was sitting by a window, doing something with his rifle.

He had a tattered, forest green jacket and quite a few accessories. His fluffy fox head was staring out at the moon.

You were annoying him again about “the gun problem.” He said you were too young and irresponsible to handle one. Ha. You’d get one, somehow.

He nudged your arm. “I told you, no.”