We Are Bulletproof

He turned the card over in his hand, not for the first time. Every time he actually thought about calling the stranger that appeared in the art shop, he found himself wilting and deciding not to. This time, it was late at night. He couldn't sleep and that card was sitting there on the bedside table, taunting him. When he picked it up, he wondered again if he should do it. Bite the bullet. Make the call. Wen would never see him again if he didn't. It was probably better that way.

Yet, this time, he reached over and swallowed hard before he picked up his phone. Wen, he was old fashioned. He didn't own a cell phone. He had only this landline, in this small rundown cabin in the middle of nowheresville, Oregon. There were others nearby, built into a haphazard community but half of them were empty and the other half were housing hermits just like Wen. It was quiet out here, just the way he liked it.

Hesitantly, he poked the numbers on the card and he clutched the phone harder afterward.

"Hello?"

@Queen Halo

He absolutely loathed that he had to do this. He loathed it with every fiber of his being and yet here he was, slowly walking down the winding hill path toward his nearest neighbor's home. His own home was further up the mountain, nestled in a forest of tall trees, partly blocked off by a creek, and usually only occupied by Wen himself. Driving up the mountain to his home invariably meant passing by the paths that led toward the other mountain folk in the area, so Wen knew they were there. He just... he'd never met them.

The paths were easier to cross on foot and besides... his problem also extended to his vehicle.

Wen was out of gas. Out of gasoline. His power had gone out in the storm the previous night and it hadn't come back on. The phone wasn't working, either. So he was forced--flushed out of his home. Picking his way through newly budding wildflowers, likely brought on by the fall rains, he quietly observed the countryside. The outskirts of Hazleton weren't home to the best variety of people, it was true. But Wen was pretty far from the rowdy trailer park and he was far enough up the mountain that he rarely had to deal with any other neighbors. They were all of like mind, after all.

There.

Wen saw it; a rather large home with all the hallmarks of an old country place. It had the wide, giant patio wrapped around it, the columns up front, and the swaying fronds of tall grass surrounding it. There were a couple of fairly new vehicles out front, so Wen thought they must be rather young.

Slowly, he approached the steps, then stopped. He felt... watched, for a moment, but when he looked over his shoulder, he saw only a wild deer, staring back at him. Wen turned away and started up the steps. The third one up squeaked as he stepped on it, upsetting a dog inside the house even before Wen could knock. Taking in a deep breath, he knocked.