• “Daniel! Danny, boy, is that you? Please, come in, come in and have a nice drink with your dear old friend, Peter."

    The male grimaced, opening his eyes and seeing his "old friend". Old was right, the man was ancient. Wrinkles upon wrinkles creased his face, his gums in desperate need of a good cleaning, and his white hair was sticking out from underneath his cap in small tufts. Leaning against his cane as he walked to the worn table, the younger man was already regretting coming to the pub. He fell down into the chair heavily, looking across the table at the old man just as a waitress was setting down two mugs.

    The older man grabbed his drink and chugged probably a half of it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and exhaling in satisfaction. Daniel just stared at his cup of whiskey before pushing it away. “I prefer wine," he told the old man when his eyebrow raised at the youth. Peter just shook his head the boy, clearly displeased with his "friend's" taste of drink, but he signaled to the waitress to bring a glass of wine for his companion. After Daniel had sipped at his drink for a while, Peter spoke.

    “A friend of mine told me a story. I think you'd like it, Daniel." His words were already slurring, proof of his drinking habits of the past hour. Daniel's nose twitched, but he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, waiting. The old man gave pause, staring at Daniel, and then around at the almost empty bar. "It's a story about hunger and survival. “There were about...two hundred people, all walking. Walking to the west, to the 'promised land', full of riches,"

    At this he gave a small chuckle, and Daniel slitted open one eye to stare at the elder male. He didn't seem to notice Daniel anymore, looking off above his head, remembering the story. His eyes were intelligent, too bright with an almost insane gleam to them, and Daniel was once again pondering why this man referred to him as an "old friend". He did seem familiar…

    “...Women, children, old men, young men, everyone. Everyone wanted to go to the 'promised land'. To California, to be exact. It was during the gold rush, of course. They brought all of their belongings--everything in wagons led by ox teams because that was the method of traveling back then. Anyways, they got caught up in a terrible snowstorm. Terrible, terrible. And the worst part was, they were stuck in between the Rocky Mountains! The danm Rocky Mountains. The snowstorm lasted so long, they ran out of provisions. So, like any other people who wanted to survive, they began to slaughter and eat their ox. Many were getting sick and their numbers were dwindling, but they still had hope. Hope that the storm would let up. Hope that someone might come and help them. Hope that they wouldn't...run out of food. Isn't hope such a silly thing? Such fools they were. The snowstorm never let up, and they were stuck. Soon, all of the ox were gone. What were they to do then, hmm?"

    He paused, and waited for Daniel to answer. It was as clear as day, the answer, yet Daniel kept his mouth shut, and his eyes wide. They began to dart nervously around in his sockets, around at the bar, knowing where the conversation was headed, and he licked his suddenly dry lips. He looked over at Peter, and Peter stared back at him knowingly. The old man, who had seemed just like any old crazy coot, knew. Danm it all. After a few seconds of silence Peter continued,

    “They ate the old, the weak, and the sick, that's what they did. They acted like animals. Ravenous, mindless animals. Most of them got sick from eating the sick, but did they stop? No, no; they still ate. Ate to stay alive, to survive. Think about it, really think about it, Daniel. They were eating their brothers, their fathers, their grandfathers without an inch of shame. Even the children took their share of human without a guilty conscience. Because instinct rules over thought when you hunger. Did you know that some of them...actually developed a taste for human flesh? They craved it. Even though the some that actually survived ate non-human meat, they still wanted other things—forbidden things. The other meat just would not satiate them completely. Some never did stop eating others of their own kind, and their children and their children's children sometimes crave something. Something they know nothing about until they try it. Isn’t that right, Danny boy?"

    Daniel's eyes narrowed at the man, daring him to say another word. He knew, he knew. His memory raced to try and find where he knew this man from, but he still couldn't place him anywhere. He grabbed his cane and leaned on it, standing up while the old man watched him. He walked briskly by the man, but Peter caught his wrist and held him there, gazing up at the boy. Daniel looked down at him, his eyes fearful and filled with contempt. “Don't trust anyone, boy. They'll just eat you in the end."

    He gave a bark of laughter and released the boy's sleeve, patting it once as a good-bye. Daniel walked as fast as he could out the door, not looking back at the crazy, smiling old man. Who was he? How dare he?

    ...Could he be trusted?

    No, he couldn't. The old man would probably go to the police station and report him, tell them where he was. He had to kill him. But...he had said he was a friend, had he not? Walking into his apartment, Daniel was still torn between wanting to kill the man and save himself the trouble later, or getting to know him better, to fill in his memories. He sighed heavily and fell onto his sofa, leaning his cane against the arm as he turned on the television. “...Just in. There was a report of a murder in Brookshire. The woman appeared to have all of her...organs removed. The image is quite...disturbing, to say the least. We caution everyone to stay inside, there may be a serial killer on the loose. Reports say there have been three twelve killings in the past three months and..." Daniel blinked at the television, confused. Strange... he thought he had hidden that body better. He sighed and tuned out the rest of the special report, already feeling the first twangs of his hunger seeping in as he drifted in and out of consciousness.