It was a beautiful summers night. Greg Carlson was going nowhere in particular as he sped his old Mazda along a hidden back road. He focused through the windshield as he flung his old import left and right around the single track road.
He screeched around a bend, but suddenly tensed his body while gritting his teeth, slamming the brakes as the car whaled to a halt. There was a body on the road, a man, lying face down. Still trying to catch his breath, Greg stepped out of the car and into the smell of burnt rubber.
He approached the man with caution, he crouched down and searched for a pulse on his neck. He was alive and breathing. Greg stood up and reached for his phone to call an ambulance, he looked down at the man as he felt a tug on his trouser leg. Only, this time what Greg was looking back at was a shotgun pointing right at his face.
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