I knew the local murderers would find me again sometime soon. This time I was to the south, working on the high mountains, trying not to get kicked off the side of the mountain by an ornery horse this time.
That might be how they were able to get so close to me before I saw them.
They’re loud as anything, too, yelling things to each other as if the rest of the mountainside couldn’t hear them bashing about from 10,000 meters.
I got pretty angry when they made it clear they would shoot me through the horse if they had to. (They made this clear by almost shooting the horse while aiming at me.) They have pretty good aim, but I’m faster, so I led them away from the horse, climbed a ledge, and shot them all.
A few years ago that would have been traumatic but these days it seems like these jack wagons are around every few days, and I don’t feel any worse for shooting them than I do zombies. I do try not to shoot first, just in case the next batch are different, but they never seem to be.
They also don’t seem to have a really well-developed sense of self-preservation because I gave the last two guys ample time to run away and leave me alone and they insisted on trying to attack me anyway.
Anyway, these murderers won’t be bothering anyone anymore.