There wasn’t anyone to my left this time. I heard a door shut. It was realistic enough to make me stop and listen. I can still picture the female shadowed with a red back ground. This time she spoke in English. Two words, “My daughter”.
Someone new is coming in. He doesn’t like the Minor male. Call’s him a racist. He knows my middle name and says it in a mechanical voice. Robotic. These two are almost identical in appearance.
The man in the field has passed away. He was beaten or shot and left to die. He suffered. He’s wearing a white or tan suit not far off the road. A lady knows about him.