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- Herausgeber: RWG Publishing
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
In a world where society has crumbled, Daniel and his group of survivors struggle to hold onto hope and humanity. The End Times: A Post-Apocalyptic Saga follows their harrowing journey through a shattered landscape, where danger lurks at every corner and trust is a fragile commodity. When their once-peaceful sanctuary is threatened by unknown forces, they are forced to confront not only the brutal realities of the world outside but also the darkness within themselves. As alliances are tested and betrayal looms, they must choose between survival at any cost or preserving the very essence of what it means to be human. With the world teetering on the edge of oblivion, can they find a way to build a new beginning—or will they descend into the chaos they’ve fought so hard to escape?
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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The End Times
The End Times
Bill Vincent
Contents
Copyright © 2024 by Bill Vincent
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Printing, 2024
Bill Vincent
The End Times
1
Introduction to The End Times: A Post-Apocalyptic
The world ended not with a bang, but with a whisper.
No one expected The Cleansing to arrive so swiftly. In the beginning, it was a rumor, a distant echo from foreign lands—just another crisis for the talking heads to debate on the news. We were accustomed to disasters by then: wars, droughts, economic collapse. This, however, was different. Silent. Invisible. Relentless.
I remember the early days, the fear that crept into conversations and the way people clung to the hope that someone, somewhere, would find a solution. It never came. Hospitals overflowed, governments collapsed, and the streets became a battleground of the desperate and the dying.
I watched it all from the confines of my apartment, as the world crumbled outside my window. By the time the military came to enforce martial law, it was already too late. The sickness had spread like wildfire, leaving entire cities hollowed out, shells of what they once were. The ones who didn’t succumb to the plague were left to fight each other over scraps.
That was six months ago.
Now, there is nothing left. No government. No structure. No safety. Only survivors, scattered like broken pieces of a puzzle that will never be whole again. Some say we’re living in the End Times—the final chapter of humanity. If that’s true, then I refuse to let my story end here. I refuse to go down without a fight.
My name is Daniel Warden, and this is how it begins.
The sky above is a canvas of ash and smoke, the once-blue horizon now tainted with the remnants of a world that no longer exists. The roads are empty but for the ghosts of those who walked them before. Civilization has become nothing more than a memory, and survival is all that matters.
But even now, as I step out into this wasteland, I cling to the sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, there is something beyond this devastation. A sanctuary. A cure. A future.
If I’m wrong, then I’ll die like the rest.
But if I’m right—if there’s something left worth fighting for—then I’ll see it with my own eyes.
One step at a time.
Into the end of the world.
Bill Vincent
The End Times
2
Chapter 1: The Collapse
The Last Day of Normalcy
Daniel Warden stared at the flickering screen, the dying breath of a world that once thrived. News anchors had once delivered stories of politics and sports, weather reports and stock market updates, their voices calm and polished. Now, their eyes were hollow, their voices thin and strained. As one by one, the broadcasts cut to static, Daniel knew this was it. The last moments of civilization.
The power had been going in and out all week, but this time, as the lights flickered overhead, they didn’t come back on. His apartment was suddenly bathed in twilight, the only light filtering in from the smoky sky outside. He stood up, crossed the room, and peered out the window. Below, the city was a battlefield. People ran frantically through the streets, clutching whatever belongings they could carry. Cars were abandoned in the middle of the road, doors open, some on fire. Sirens blared in the distance, the wailing sound barely cutting through the chaos of screaming and shouting.
Daniel turned away from the window. He’d been preparing for this for weeks, stockpiling food and water, mapping out escape routes. But even with his military training, nothing could have prepared him for the sheer weight of watching everything fall apart. The world had been teetering on the edge for months, but no one had really believed it would go this far. Not until the streets were burning and the bodies were piling up.
The smell of smoke reached his apartment, a faint, acrid odor that would soon become unbearable. He needed to move.
He grabbed his backpack from the floor, packed with everything he’d need: a first aid kit, bottled water, canned food, a hunting knife, and a handgun with the last of his ammunition. His fingers grazed the photo tucked into one of the pockets—a picture of his wife and daughter, smiling at him from another life. They were long gone now, victims of The Cleansing like so many others. He pushed the thought away. There was no room for grief, not anymore.
Daniel slung the backpack over his shoulder and took one last look around the apartment. It was a modest place, not much to speak of, but it had been home. Now it was just another reminder of a world that no longer existed.
The sound of glass shattering echoed from down the hall, pulling him from his thoughts. His muscles tensed. He knew what was coming. Looters had already hit most of the nearby buildings, and his time here was up. He checked his gun, making sure it was loaded, and headed for the door.
The hallway was dim, lit only by the flickering orange glow from the fires outside. As he made his way toward the stairwell, he could hear voices—angry, desperate voices—coming from one of the apartments on the lower floor. The looters had arrived.
Daniel moved quickly and quietly, descending the stairs without making a sound. His training kicked in instinctively, every step calculated, every breath controlled. He wasn’t looking for a fight, not yet. Not unless he had no other choice.
Reaching the ground floor, he paused by the door, listening. The looters were smashing their way into an apartment down the hall, laughing and shouting as they tore through whatever they could find. He could hear the cries of the tenants—a family, by the sound of it—pleading for mercy. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep moving. He couldn’t help them. Not now.
The moment he stepped outside, the heat hit him like a wall. The air was thick with smoke, and the sun was barely visible behind the clouds of ash that hung over the city. It felt like stepping into a war zone. Fires burned in the distance, casting a red-orange hue over the crumbling skyline. Cars were overturned, windows shattered. The bodies of the fallen lay scattered across the street, some covered, others forgotten.
Daniel inhaled sharply, then exhaled slowly, steadying himself. He scanned the area, assessing the situation. The main roads were too dangerous—too exposed. He needed to stay off the streets, at least until he could get out of the city.
He moved toward the alleyway behind the building, keeping low and sticking to the shadows. His boots crunched on broken glass as he passed by a smashed storefront, careful to avoid making too much noise. A distant gunshot rang out, followed by a scream. His pulse quickened, but he forced himself to stay focused. There would be more of that before the night was over.
Ahead, the alley opened up into another street, and beyond that, the edge of the city. If he could just make it a few more blocks, he might have a chance of escaping the worst of it. But with each step, he could feel the weight of the world pressing down on him—the knowledge that this wasn’t just a city falling. It was everything. Society. Order. Life as he knew it.
As Daniel reached the corner of the alley, he heard the low, static crackle of a radio in the distance. He stopped, straining to listen. Amid the chaos, a faint voice broke through: “… survivors… gathering… outpost…”
A spark of hope flared in his chest. He wasn’t the only one left. There was somewhere to go.
And so, with the world crumbling around him, Daniel Warden took his first step toward the unknown, leaving the city—and the past—behind.
The Streets of Chaos
The streets were an inferno of broken glass and burning debris. Every corner Daniel turned revealed another scene of devastation—abandoned cars, shattered storefronts, bodies slumped in doorways. The smell of smoke clung to the air, mixing with the stench of decay and desperation. This was no longer the city he knew. This was a war zone.
Daniel kept his pace steady but quick, his eyes scanning every shadow, every dark alley. The sun was starting to set, casting long, jagged shadows across the wreckage. Dusk would bring more danger. He needed to find a safer route out, away from the chaos. His military instincts screamed at him to stay low, keep moving, and avoid unnecessary attention.
Gunshots echoed in the distance, followed by a high-pitched scream. He glanced toward the sound but kept moving. There was nothing he could do for them. The looters and gangs were already claiming territory, turning the city into a violent battleground. Daniel wasn’t about to stick around and become another casualty in their war over scraps.
He rounded a corner and found himself on a once-bustling avenue, now deserted but for overturned cars and makeshift barricades. Fires burned in the windows of nearby shops, and the sidewalks were littered with broken belongings—forgotten lives scattered in the chaos. There was a moment of eerie silence, broken only by the crackling of flames.
Then he saw them.
A group of looters, five or six of them, were gathered at the far end of the street, their voices carrying in the still air. They had smashed their way into a small electronics store, pulling out anything they could carry—TVs, laptops, phones. One of them laughed as he tossed a phone into the street, watching it shatter against the pavement.
Daniel ducked behind an overturned car, his breath shallow as he assessed the situation. They hadn’t seen him yet, but he knew better than to assume that meant he was safe. Looters weren’t just after material goods anymore; they were hungry, desperate, and violent. Anyone who wasn’t with them was fair game.
His fingers tightened around the handle of his hunting knife. He could fight them off if it came to that, but it was too risky. Outnumbered and outgunned, he wouldn’t last long in an open confrontation. No, the best option was to slip past them unnoticed, avoid the fight entirely.
He scanned the area, looking for a way around. To his right, an alley cut between two buildings, narrow but wide enough for him to move through. If he could get across the street without drawing their attention, he could slip into the alley and avoid the looters altogether.
Daniel took a deep breath, then darted out from behind the car. He kept low, his movements quick and silent. He stayed close to the shadows, using the burnt-out cars and debris as cover. His heart pounded in his chest, every step feeling like it might be the one that gave him away. But the looters were too busy pillaging the store to notice him.
He was halfway across the street when one of them turned. Daniel froze, pressing himself against the side of a truck, praying he hadn’t been seen. The looter scanned the street, his eyes cold and suspicious, but after a moment, he shrugged and turned back to his group.
Daniel let out a slow, controlled breath. He waited another few seconds, then made his move, slipping into the alley. The shadows swallowed him up, and he crouched down, listening to the fading voices of the looters as they continued their destruction. He was safe, for now.
The alley was dark, filled with the remnants of what had once been a service road for delivery trucks. Garbage bins were overturned, and broken pallets were scattered along the path. A rat skittered across the ground, disappearing into a crack in the wall. Daniel moved cautiously, every sense on high alert.
As he made his way deeper into the alley, his mind wandered for a brief moment—back to a time before all this, when the streets were filled with life instead of death. He remembered walking down this very block with his wife and daughter, the air filled with the sound of laughter and car horns, the smell of food from nearby vendors. Now, all that remained were ghosts and ashes.
The memory hit him hard, but he pushed it away. There was no room for the past now. Only survival.
A rustling sound ahead snapped him back to the present. Daniel halted, crouching low behind a pile of debris. His hand instinctively reached for his knife. The alley wasn’t empty.
Two figures emerged from behind a dumpster, a man and a woman, both ragged and wild-eyed. They looked like they hadn’t eaten in days, their clothes torn and filthy. The woman clutched a makeshift weapon—a broken piece of metal, sharp at one end—while the man had a rusted crowbar in his hand. Their eyes locked on Daniel, and for a moment, there was silence.
Then the man took a step forward, raising the crowbar. "Don’t want no trouble," he growled, his voice low and threatening. "But we need what you got."
Daniel slowly stood, keeping his hands visible. "I don’t have anything for you," he said calmly, his eyes never leaving the man’s. "I’m just passing through."
"Everyone’s got something," the woman hissed, inching closer with the makeshift weapon. "You’re not getting out of here without paying a toll."
Daniel’s muscles tensed. He could take them, but it would be quick and brutal. The desperation in their eyes told him they wouldn’t back down without a fight. He clenched his knife, ready for whatever came next.
Just then, a loud crash echoed from the street behind them—the sound of more looters approaching. The man and woman exchanged a glance, their attention briefly diverted. Daniel saw his opportunity.
Without hesitation, he darted forward, shoving the man aside and sprinting down the alley. He didn’t stop to see if they followed. He just ran, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming in quick bursts. The alley stretched on, and finally, it opened up onto another street—a quieter one, with fewer signs of chaos.
He didn’t stop running until he was sure he was far enough away. When he finally slowed, he took a deep breath, steadying himself.
This city was falling apart faster than he’d expected. And the further he went, the more dangerous it became.
There was no turning back now.
Lost in the Ruins
Daniel emerged onto another street, his legs burning from the sprint through the alley. The sky had darkened even more, the last sliver of sunlight swallowed by the thick clouds of smoke that clung to the city. It was hard to tell whether it was dusk or just the smoke blotting out the sun entirely. He paused for a moment, catching his breath and surveying his surroundings. The city looked like a graveyard, but the night was far from silent.
The buildings here were in even worse shape. Whole sections had collapsed, spilling rubble onto the roads. Windows were blown out, and the sidewalks were littered with bricks and glass. Above him, a streetlight dangled from a broken pole, swaying with a groaning creak as a faint breeze passed through.
Daniel wiped the sweat from his brow and adjusted the strap of his backpack. He knew he couldn’t stay out in the open for long. The looters were getting more brazen as the night wore on, and once the sun was completely down, the gangs would take over the streets. He had to find shelter before darkness swallowed the city whole.
He spotted an old grocery store across the street, its sign hanging at an angle, the windows shattered and the entrance barely standing. The inside looked gutted, but it was something—somewhere to regroup and figure out his next move. He made his way over, keeping his footsteps light, every movement deliberate. The echo of a distant explosion shook the ground beneath him, a reminder that the city’s collapse wasn’t just metaphorical anymore—it was real, violent, and happening in every corner.
Daniel reached the store’s entrance and stepped inside, the glass crunching under his boots. The place had been picked clean. Shelves were overturned, and anything worth taking was long gone. The stench of rotting food hit him immediately, thick and sour, but it was the least of his concerns.
He scanned the area. In the dim light filtering through the broken windows, he could make out a few figures moving at the far end of the store. Homeless? Refugees? He couldn’t tell. They weren’t looters—at least not the violent kind—just people trying to survive like everyone else.
For a moment, Daniel considered approaching them, but he quickly dismissed the thought. Trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He needed to keep moving, stay focused. His instincts were screaming at him to stay alert.
Suddenly, a voice broke through the silence. “Hey! You there!” A man’s voice, sharp, desperate.
Daniel froze, his hand instinctively going to his gun. His eyes darted to where the voice had come from—one of the figures at the far end was moving toward him. His posture was tense, but he didn’t seem immediately hostile.
“Wait!” the man called again, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’m not here to hurt you. We just need help.”
Daniel remained still, every muscle in his body ready to spring into action. The man came closer, stepping into the weak light. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in days—his clothes were torn, his face gaunt, his eyes wild with hunger and fear.
“There’s a kid back there,” the man said, his voice hoarse. “She’s hurt. We don’t have any medicine, no supplies… please, if you’ve got anything, we just need—”
“I don’t have anything,” Daniel cut him off, his voice cold, but steady. “I’m just passing through.”
The man’s face fell, desperation flickering in his eyes. “Please, man. Anything. Water. Bandages. She’s just a kid, she didn’t—”
“I said I don’t have anything.” Daniel’s tone left no room for argument. He couldn’t afford to be a hero, not here, not now. Helping one person could lead to a chain of vulnerability that would get him killed. He couldn’t take that risk. His focus had to stay on survival, nothing else.
The man stopped in his tracks, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He gave Daniel one last look, a mixture of anger and resignation, before turning back toward the darkness at the rear of the store. Daniel’s chest tightened, but he ignored it. He couldn’t save everyone. He couldn’t save anyone. Not in this world.
He moved toward the back of the store, away from the man and whatever situation lay there. His eyes scanned the area for any useful supplies the looters might have missed. An overturned shelf caught his eye—beneath it, something metallic glinted in the low light. He crouched down and pushed aside the debris. There, buried beneath a pile of broken cans, was a small first aid kit.
It wasn’t much, but it was something. Daniel opened it and found the basics—bandages, antiseptic, a few painkillers. The sight of it stirred something inside him, a memory of all the lives he couldn’t save, of all the people he had to leave behind. His wife, his daughter… that man’s plea echoed in his head.
He shook his head, forcing the thoughts away. No. He couldn’t let himself get dragged into that. His survival depended on his ability to stay detached, focused. He slipped the first aid kit into his backpack and stood up.
Suddenly, a noise from the front of the store—shuffling footsteps, low voices. Daniel’s pulse quickened. He pressed himself against the wall, listening carefully. There were at least two, maybe three people entering the store. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the tone was aggressive.
More looters.
Daniel cursed under his breath. He was trapped. There was no way out the back, and moving toward the front meant walking right into their path. He tightened his grip on his knife, his mind racing. He could wait them out, hope they didn’t come this far into the store. Or he could fight, take them out quickly before they had a chance to find him.
The voices were getting closer.
Daniel moved deeper into the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t ready for another fight, but in this world, ready or not didn’t matter.
Survival was everything.
The door creaked open, and the footsteps grew louder.
The Ambush
Daniel pressed his back against the cold wall, his breaths coming shallow and quiet. The voices were close now, too close. He could hear the scrape of boots against the floor, the clinking of metal—a gun, maybe a crowbar. His fingers tightened around the handle of his knife, his only real defense. It wasn’t much, but he knew how to use it.
The looters moved slowly, cautiously. They were experienced, not the reckless kind. They were hunting, and Daniel was their prey.
“Check the back,” one of them barked. The voice was rough, like sandpaper soaked in alcohol. “Make sure nobody’s hiding in here.”
Daniel’s mind raced. He couldn’t wait any longer. If they got too close, they’d spot him, and then he’d have no chance to escape. He had to act first. Quickly and decisively.
He peeked around the corner of the aisle he was hiding behind. Three men. Two of them were armed—one had a baseball bat slung over his shoulder, the other held a crowbar. The third was further back, keeping watch by the shattered entrance, a rifle slung across his chest.
The one with the bat kicked over a broken shelf, sending a spray of debris across the floor. "Doesn’t look like anyone’s been through here in a while," he muttered, his voice low but annoyed.
Daniel could feel the tension rising in the air, every second drawing them closer to where he stood concealed. He had to make a move—fast and silent.
He scanned the area quickly. Just ahead, at the edge of the aisle, there was a broken mirror propped up against some old crates, reflecting a sliver of the space where the men were walking. It gave him just enough visibility to track their movements without exposing himself.
Daniel took a deep breath. He crouched lower, moving swiftly along the edge of the wall, careful to stay in the shadows. He had one shot at this. If he could take down one of them before they noticed, he’d have a chance to slip past the others and escape through the back exit.
The man with the bat was closest. His back was turned as he kicked through the wreckage, muttering curses under his breath. Daniel waited for the right moment, his grip tightening on the knife.
Then, like a viper striking from the darkness, Daniel moved.
He lunged forward, silent and quick. His arm hooked around the looter’s neck, yanking him backward into the shadows. Before the man could make a sound, Daniel drove the blade into his side, straight between his ribs. The man’s body tensed, a choked gasp escaping his lips, but the sound was barely a whisper. Daniel twisted the knife, making sure the job was done, then eased the lifeless body down to the floor.
His heart was racing, his blood pounding in his ears. But he couldn’t afford to stop now. He wiped the blade on the man’s jacket, quickly searching his pockets. A pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a half-empty bottle of water. Useless.
Daniel grabbed the baseball bat from the dead man’s hands, keeping the knife in his other. Two weapons were better than one, especially now.
The other looters hadn’t noticed yet. The one with the crowbar was still rummaging through the debris, oblivious to the silent kill that had just taken place mere feet away. The one by the door was pacing, his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder, keeping a half-hearted watch on the street outside.
Daniel took a step forward, his muscles coiled for the next strike. His focus was razor-sharp. He could take down the second man without much noise—another quick, brutal kill. But the one with the rifle… that was the real problem. If he fired a shot, it would alert every other looter in the area. The gunfire would echo through the city like a beacon, drawing more chaos their way.
He needed to be smart. Careful.
Just as Daniel was about to make his move, the man with the crowbar turned, his eyes sweeping the aisle. For a split second, they locked eyes with Daniel’s. The looter froze, his mouth opening in surprise.
Daniel didn’t give him a chance to react.
He swung the baseball bat with all his strength, the wood connecting with the side of the man’s head with a sickening crack. The looter crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the floor.
Daniel cursed under his breath. That was louder than he’d wanted. Too loud.
The man by the door spun around, his rifle coming up, his eyes widening as he realized what had happened.
“Hey!” he shouted, raising the gun. But Daniel was already moving. He dove behind a stack of crates, narrowly avoiding the spray of bullets that tore through the air. The gunfire echoed through the store, deafening in the enclosed space.
Daniel’s mind raced. He couldn’t stay hidden for long. The shooter would reload, and when he did, Daniel had to act. He glanced around, looking for something—anything—that could give him the upper hand.
There, just a few feet away, was a metal rod, part of a broken shelf. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. Daniel grabbed it, then took a deep breath, steadying himself.
The gunfire stopped. The shooter was reloading.
Daniel sprang into action, darting out from behind the crates. He hurled the metal rod with all his strength, aiming for the shooter’s face. The rod flew through the air, striking the man square in the forehead. The looter staggered back, his hands fumbling with the rifle.
Daniel didn’t waste a second. He charged forward, swinging the baseball bat as hard as he could. The bat collided with the looter’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. The rifle clattered to the floor.
The man gasped for air, clutching his chest, but Daniel didn’t give him a chance to recover. He swung the bat again, this time hitting the looter’s head. The man’s body went limp, collapsing onto the floor with a heavy thud.
For a moment, the only sound was Daniel’s ragged breathing. The store was quiet again, the danger seemingly over.
Daniel knelt down, picking up the rifle. He quickly checked the magazine—only a few rounds left, but it was better than nothing. He slung the rifle over his shoulder, then took a moment to search the bodies. One of them had a map of the city, marked with various gang territories. Another had a few spare bullets, which Daniel pocketed.
As he stood up, his mind was already working on the next step. He couldn’t stay here. The gunfire would have attracted attention, and more looters or worse could be on their way.
He needed to move. Fast.
Daniel glanced around one last time, making sure he hadn’t left anything useful behind. Then he turned and slipped out the back of the store, disappearing into the darkened streets once again.
The city was collapsing all around him, but Daniel knew one thing for sure.
He was still alive.
For now.
Descent into Chaos
Daniel moved swiftly through the maze of alleyways, his mind sharp, senses on high alert. The streets were getting darker by the minute, and the distant sounds of gunfire and screams echoed through the concrete jungle. The rifle slung over his shoulder felt like both a comfort and a burden. It had power, but it also painted a target on his back. In this world, a weapon could be the difference between life and death, but it could also attract the wrong kind of attention.
His steps were calculated as he slipped into the shadows, keeping to the edges of the crumbling city. The devastation around him was staggering. Buildings that once stood tall and proud now lay in heaps of broken concrete and twisted metal. Cars were abandoned in the streets, their windows shattered, doors hanging open like the remains of a battlefield long forgotten. The stench of smoke and decay filled the air, but Daniel had grown numb to it. It was just another part of the collapse.
As he moved deeper into the heart of the city, he heard voices ahead. His heart rate spiked, and he ducked behind the charred remains of a delivery truck, peering around its edge. A group of looters stood in the middle of the street, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames of a makeshift fire. They laughed and drank from bottles, completely oblivious to the chaos surrounding them. Their loud, brash conversations were an unsettling reminder of how quickly the moral fabric of society had unraveled.
There were five of them—three men and two women, all armed, all dangerous. Their weapons ranged from knives to guns, and their expressions were wild, almost feral. Daniel could tell they were the type who thrived in this new world. The collapse had given them power, and they were reveling in it.
His instinct told him to avoid them entirely. He wasn’t looking for a fight, especially not one against a group this large. But his path forward was blocked by the looters, and the only other option was to double back and find another route, which would cost him time—precious time he couldn’t afford to waste.
He watched the group closely, calculating his options. They hadn’t spotted him yet. If he could sneak around the edge of the street, using the debris and shadows as cover, he might be able to slip past them unnoticed. It was risky, but everything was risky now.
Daniel took a deep breath, tightening his grip on the rifle, and began moving. He stayed low, using the burnt-out shells of cars and crumbled walls to shield himself from their view. His boots made barely a sound on the asphalt as he crept forward, inching closer to safety.
Suddenly, one of the looters—a tall man with a shaved head and a tattoo snaking down his neck—glanced in Daniel’s direction. For a moment, their eyes met. Daniel’s heart stopped, every muscle in his body tensing.
The looter frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Hey,” he called out, his voice slurred with drink, “you see something over there?”
