He looks down at the boy who just stands there looking at the ground to avoid the stinging rain lashing against his skin. His grip is still tight on the Jet Ski, as if it kept him connected to reality somehow, his mind still trying to process what he was going through.

Steve takes his belt off and reattaching the buckle together he hangs it over the boys shoulder so the handgun hangs across his chest. Dylan looks up at him, peering through squinted eyes and grips the handgun with both hands. Steve holds up a finger telling him to be careful, he knew it was dangerous but was hoping it would give him even a slight feeling of security, a powerful tool to protect himself against an enemy he couldn’t understand or comprehend.

The look on the boy’s