All Alone.

Jack laughed, "Blow my head off? You don't even have a gun dumb bitch." It took none less than a cold barrel pressing into his cheek to silence his laughing. Indeed this thing had a gun, but not a normal gun. Floating in the air in front of him, surrounded in a transparent teal bubble, was what appeared to be a miniature naval cannon. No company he knew of made something like this. This bitch was 17th century.

"You're really running my patience here. I don't appreciate dangerous animals in my town, nor do I have an answer to my question. So I'm going to give you ten seconds okay? And if I don't get an answer I'm going to kill you and donate your body to science."

"I wanted to do that," was his reaction. He had no idea where he was, what time it was, what this thing is or why it wanted to kill him. He just went with what his mind thought was the best answer. Faster than she could react he grabbed the cannon and pointed it at her. The damn thing had no trigger, not that he could see. The horse girl sat with her hands up, screaming out all random shit. Jack couldn't think with this distraction, so he threw the heavy little thing at her. She went down instantly. Apparently what she was screaming wasn't all random, because immediately following her temporary demise another horse ran in carrying a shotgun. Jack stared her down. Another her, because of a mix of yellow, purple and pink on her body. Before he could plea for mercy or become Rambo she shot him right in the stomach. As he went down he couldn't stop thinking of how the gunshot felt more like being burned than impaled or how he was thinking at all after being shot. The yellow horse stood over him as he lay there on the ground, all the life slowly draining from him. The last thing he saw was her eyes. Light blue and  big as hell, staring down angrily at him. The last thing he heard was a door being broken down and multiple footsteps. Before he could see the source he lost all his senses, probably for the last time.

-

"Oh look, he's getting up. He's getting up!"

That voice sounded way too excited. No female cared about Jack this much, to visit him at the hospital. Looking back, it seemed no one at all cared about him here. Two people already tried to kill him from racial profiling. At this point he couldn't see but he could hear a few women and smell fresh linen.

"Your clothes were bloody and you have no need for them, so we put them aside. We'll wash them later."

"Who knew they were criminals."

"Not criminals, hired deputies remember? You hired them yourself."

-

Insomnia, Delirium, Paranoia; and I would stay away from three-wheeled vehicles if I were you.

-

Just don't think too much or the Russians will come for you.

-

Jack sat up, his head throbbing. How long had he been asleep? The moon was already out. And why was he suddenly thinking about the Soviet Union? They wouldn't have really launched nukes would they? And why was his bed covered in dirt? Jack ran his hand along his bed, it was actually a road.

-

A man used to processed meat and television certainly wasn't meant to survive in the woods, but even with his near gone instincts, he still felt the need to go on until he could'nt go any farther.

-

The sky was light blue when Jack finally stopped, or fell over, either one.

-

Spear in hand and full of spirit, he made his way down the road determined to get help or die trying. He didn't need any protection, God and his determination could stop any threat, nukes to tigers. He continued in this state of euphoria for a good few minutes, he probably did a little too much activity and it made him light headed.