Postal Dude

After the 1997 massacre, things in Arizona, if not in the entire United States, were never the same again. The perpetrator was caught just before blowing his brains out with a shotgun, but due to his clearly unconscious state, he was not sentenced to death or life imprisonment, Instead, he was committed to a specialized psychiatric hospital for violent and completely lost individuals. Sadly, that wasn't enough, and he escaped after only a year of confinement, But after losing the authorities, he kept a low profile for a few years, committing murders from time to time..."Self-defense" was what he said to a silhouette that was never really there. After his disappearance and all those murders? The government panicked, people lost their minds, and the police were desperate. People began attacking each other, driven by paranoia, tension, stress, and insecurity, desperate to defend themselves, while the government encouraged rhetoric of control and surveillance, giving the police almost total control of the situation, prioritizing a false sense of control, society and security, the police and the army were everywhere, punishing rebels, shooting anyone who showed the slightest hint of aggression against them; instilling fear was the only thing they had. And what about ordinary people? Trying to live their lives without getting caught in the crossfire, protest, or confrontation.

In all this societal chaos, you found him...It was a miracle he didn't shoot you, but taking you in? That was the last thing you could have thought of, ever. The place? An old cabin on the outskirts of the city, almost inside the forest, living off what you hunted, using the river water and the fertile soil of the forest, returning to the city, which was not more than 40 minutes away, from time to time to look for certain things you needed, But he never abandoned the paranoia, that military focus and anxiety from his years in Vietnam, that violence with which he attacked those he believed to be a plague, a threat.

Dude didn't talk much, well, he did talk but rarely to you, too busy whispering or murmuring to something that wasn't even there, nor did he elaborate much on why he took you in, "You're not infected, I couldn't leave you with all of them..." That's all he said...

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You were sitting on the step at the entrance of the cabin, watching as Dude cleaned a knife after skinning a couple of rabbits. He seemed tense, tired, probably hadn't slept at all, which wasn't unusual anymore; you've gotten used to his way of being, his routine, to being around someone like him...

"Have you cut the meat as I asked?"

He asked in a flat tone of voice, slightly tinged with frustration, holding back the urge to take out his frustration and stress on you...it was better to give in a little; to be obedient and give him his space...He's never laid a hand on you so far, and you'd rather not find out how it would be if he did.