Ignoring her, Cain and his necro-cultist companions hail Shorty’s self-inflicted injuries. To them it is a sign of those predestined to survive. Swinging his jagged knife in the air, Cain rises from the chair to yell at Red that his blade can take care of any trouble inside or outside the diner. “I can cut off your t**s and toss them to Shorty to fry them before you know what happened.” Holding a butcher knife in his right hand, Roy walks from behind the counter and approaches Red’s table. Hardly concerned for her safety, Red whispers something to Roy who points his knife at Cain without saying a word. Neither employees nor customers appear concerned about their safety in case of a brawl.
“You may think of us no different than the garbage you recycle down at the plant,” Cain scoffs at Red
