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It was. Maybe. Probably. Maria had put her weapon down. That was good. They were scared. He knew that if this was like home with the cafe and school and the soccer field that he wouldn’t have liked that and he would have tried to make her think otherwise but she was putting down the sword. That was what mattered. They weren’t going to fight. They weren’t going to attack. He could get his friend away from these two. That was good. That was nice. It meant that he had his friend. It meant that they couldn’t do this to anyone else. It meant that nobody had to die. That was good. That was nice. He could breathe easily. In, out. He could get out of here. He could run away from these two with his friend and they could talk and it would mean he wouldn’t have to be on this island playing this game and he knew he didn’t have to do anything now. He knew that. It was good.

There were a couple things that he still needed to do, though. He knew that. Stopping these two was one of them.

“Um, Al? If you could, um… get the sword from the ground, that would be good. Stop them from doing this again.”

And then a question. Phrased at him. From Michael.

Staring at him in the eye.

He paused.

He wasn’t sure what the answer was.

There was gunfire, apparently. Michael had heard it. That meant that somebody else was in here, with a gun. That wasn’t good.

Or it could have been him.

Michael could know.

But did he?

Alvaro didn’t know.

He didn’t know what the answer was.

But he had to say something.

Do something.

He had the gun. He had his friend.

An answer wouldn’t hurt.

“I… don’t think so.”
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70's Horror Movies 2: New Wave Massacre · Intensive Care Wards