I casually glance behind me, towards the door, right as he walks in; late forties, early fifties, leather chaps covering light covered jeans, a biker�...�s vest, black rimmed glasses, and a leather hat covering a bald head. Chills run down my spine as he walks past me and I return my gaze to the TV.Minutes later as I’m scanning the bar, I catch that he seems to be staring at me from his seat at a table past the other end of the bar. “It’s your imagination,” I tell myself.*I’ve had several more. " "Or both of us," he said drawing his pistol. "Where's your rifle?" I asked. "I must have lost it on the drop," he said pulling a spare magazine from his front pocket. We walked through the field, following the sounds of gun-shots in the distance. Niether of us had any idea where we were. As we aproached the end of the feild we came across a wooded patch. Between the trees we could make out the silloettes of German storm troopers in a bunker. We walked scilently toward them and waited for them. More

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