[ WP ] In a post-apocalyptic world , two survivors cross paths and join forces . However , they do not speak the same language .

“ I ’ m going to kill you someday. ” I point forwards, towards an abandoned gas station in the middle of the sweltering heat and the sand. “ I ’ m going to use your intestines as a bowtie and make rivers of your blood. ” 
 
 He pointed to the same place I did and nodded. His blonde hair, fair skin. He ’ ll never make it far. It ’ s amazing that he even got this far. He tried to speak back. Incomprehensible. How did he even manage to survive this long only knowing English? 
 
 I suppose that part of it was that he had full military gear on, with an assault rifle and more importantly a canteen. The digital sand colors keeping him half a shadow as long as he kept in the bright. 
 
 Me, I had nothing. I was just born here. I will die here, no doubt, but not yet. It ’ s not my time. 
 
 We made it to the gas station and I let him clear the building first. I would stand guard up here, I pointed, you go inside. He knocked on the window from the inside and I followed. Under the counter, there were literally *gallons* of water, just sitting there. Sealed, fresh, abandoned. It was hope. It was life. I laughed and yelled praise. 
 
 “ God is great! ” 
 
 On hearing this, my companion snapped his gun into position, pointed at me. I didn ’ t even hear the shots. Allah find me. Save this misguided man. He is searching through my clothes, probing me. I know what he seeks. What he thinks of me. I am just a poor farmer. I meant you no harm. Allah save you. 

