Someone or something was sitting in the booth of the bus stop.
"Interesting." I said to myself.
I lifted the sniper rifle in my hands and peered with one eye through the scope on top of the weapon. It took me a couple of seconds to find the booth with my limited field of vision, but soon my crosshair was centred on the figure's chest.
Thank God, it's a someone. I've been bumping into way too many Mutants lately.
Whilst listening for strange noises in my vicinity, I further investigated the stranger. He was male, Caucasian with a slight tan and had a shaved head. He was around my age (20), a bit taller than me (1.70 metres) and we shared the same build (normal/light posture).
One thing that caught my attention was his clothes, which looked too new and clean for someone living on a post-apocalyptic planet of death. My smudged, stained and torn dark-green cargo pants, matching jacket and brown hoodie underneath aforementioned jacket were in stark contrast to his assemble: he was wearing thick light-brown winter pants that looked freshly washed and a lined sweater in matching colour. On his feet were brand-new walking shoes, my worn and travel-stained black army boots looking like a disgrace in comparison. Another thing I noticed besides his clothing was his personal appearance; he looked clean shaven and not a speck of dirt was on his skin, whereas I hid a stubble of a beard behind a green woollen scarf and a tangled mass of brown, curly hair underneath the hood of my sweater.
The unknown man was sitting on the bench of a long-decommissioned bus stop and was just staring ahead of him, smiling. It was not a 'broad-as-your-face-white-teeth-sparkling'-smile, but definitely a smile, his teeth hidden behind his lips. If it wasn't for the smile I would have guessed the slack was dead, seeing as how the guy didn't move a millimetre during the brief period of observation. Then, suddenly, the stranger moved, reaching into the sack that was beside him on the bench and pulled out something wrapped in tinfoil. He unwrapped the object almost delicately and in it was a sandwich... The slack had a freaking sandwich?! Here in this godforsaken Wasteland, where everyone had to make do with powdered rations and bowel-destroying water, this guy was munching away a 'finger-licking-oh-God-that-looks-tasty'-sandwich.
"Very interesting." I told myself, and slowly got up from my prone position. I jumped backwards like a frog, down a hill made of unsorted rubble inside a destroyed two-story office building. I made my observation post on the first floor of the building due to the fact that the second story was missing its bottom. I crawled through the hole in the wall at the foot of the artificial hill and found myself in the dark alley behind the destroyed construction. I went down the alleyway to the left and followed it to the point where alley became street. I pressed my back against the wall of my temporary shelter and followed the bricks until I reached the front-right corner of the decayed structure. I stuck my head a couple of centimetres out of the alleyway and scanned the area. There were a few more buildings, or what remained of them anyway, adjoining the street, the latter strewn with garbage, rubble and slightly destroyed cars. As far as I could see, the man on the bench was the only living creature around. I popped my head back into the darkness of the alley and allowed myself to think for a minute or two.
I have two options: either I take up my position again on that hill and end the guy's life or I just walk up to him and strike up a friendly conversation... The first option would require me to use one of my few rounds of ammunition remaining and make a bloody mess of things, the second one has the chance of me getting killed but could possibly lead me to real food...
My empty stomach and neglected taste buds decided the matter for me. I sighed and slung my rifle over my right shoulder, after which I removed the scarf covering the lower half of my face. I dropped my arms to my sides, made sure my side arm was within easy reach and stepped out of the shadows.
I was approximately 100 metres away from the mysterious stranger, but the slack turned his head towards me as soon as I took one step out of the alleyway, raised his right arm and waved.
How the hell is this guy still alive?
Though suspicious of his behaviour I made my way towards him at a steady pace. As I was closing the distance between us, my eyes darted in every direction, on the lookout for any signs of a trap. The man on the bench never moved, never turned his head and never stopped smiling.