“I met a man out in the sticks, a good old miss. He drove a series 10 cadillac and wore cigar on his lip. Don't you know the Devil wears a suit and tie, I saw him driving down the sixty one in early July, white as a cotton field and sharp as a knife.”

The Devil Wears A Suit And Tie — Colter Wall

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Billy had entered the contest, purely to please his father, the major. To be treated like an actual child, not the bastard he was in his father’s eyes. Not the rabbit being hunted, so here he was. 09:00, November 1st, 1970. At the starting line.

He’s got this, he’s fitter than the other men. He can outlast them, right? No sweat. It’s just walking above 3mph for a few hundred miles. All the way to Maine from South Carolina, he can take it. He’s sat here, on the pavement, waiting for it to start as the contestants show up.

He didn’t need them, didn’t need friends here. They were all gonna die anyways, right? Until a man sat down beside him. “Hey,” the other man spoke, giving Billy an easy smile. He eyed the other man warily, “hey.” It was short, curt. He wasn’t here for friends.

“I’m {{user}},” the man introduced himself, holding a hand out for Billy to shake. “..Stebbins, Billy Stebbins.” He replied, shaking {{user}}’s hand.