Snake Trails: Grey Eyes

His eyes were grey like only the sick fog of midnight could be. His left eye looked like coiled dead snake skin under the pupil. Nobody but The Man with Grey Eyes knew if that eye was dead. His snake skin eye made most caught in it's gaze to become nervous and falter. The sun was beating down now and the sand was reflecting back up the heat that makes deserts infamous. The Man With Grey Eyes walked through the desert with long steady strides. New light ran across his short cropped salt and pepper hair. His face was weather beaten and pockmarked. His hands were big and leathery. He seemed right at home in the desert where everything was toughened by the punishing sand and blistering sun.

The Man with Grey Eyes saw the cabin in the distance long before he expected to. It was well off the road that he had come in on but Hester had barely bothered with any kind of camoflage. He wasn't expecting company.

The cabin was covered with sand, but it stood out from the desert. It took Grey Eyes a moment to realize why he had noticed it from so far away. The shape of the sand gave the cabin away. A wound of structure with hard edges and straight lines in a sea of soft hills and flowing rough valleys. It sticks out like an ugly blossom in the desert sand. The Man With Grey Eyes checks his revolver to make sure it was loose in the holster. He begins walking forwards, taking long strides through the sand. The sand began to give away more easily here and was less packed. His grey eyes scanned the sand cautiously as he moved forward with no signs of caution in his stride.

His large steel toed boots stir sand from the dune he was walking along the side of. Sand began pouring over his boots until he was slowed to a walk. He hadn't planned on approaching much quicker but his hard face flickered for a moment in annoyance. Hester shouldn't be expecting him. If Grey Eyes knew his prey, Hester shouldn't be expecting anyone. He didn't have friends and didn't pine for human relationships. If he wasn't fond of the liqour he could probably go years without associating himself with civilization. He shouldn't be expecting anyone.

The Man With Grey Eyes got down on one knee and took in the area ahead. He looked for any thing out of place that could result in a trap or an ambush. There really wasn't a reason to expect these things but you couldn't not expect an ambush when you've walked into enough completely unawares. He'd been lucky before but luck runs out just like everything else.

When he got close enough to see the door of the small cabin hanging open he slowed his pace to almost a crawl and got as low to the ground as possible.

Death Walker: Origins

It hurt to breath. Herman could feel the pounding of his own heart inside his head and every pulse brought a wave of racking pain. His world had become pain. Nothing but pain and the stretch of concrete he was slowly crawling down. Fire swirled around the building and the rumble of explosions rocked him, but it was cold. Pain and cold.

His broken ribs protested against his lurching movements so that he didn't even realize that he had been vomiting until he was spitting out the bile and blood to keep from choking. Lovely. He was going to die alone in the aftermath of an accidental bombing. The city was in flames and it's unlikely that anyone will ever find him. The young man lying in his own blood and vomit couldn't think of a worse way to die.

Hours passed as the sound of crackling flames and all too distant sirens as his only company. He shivered as the dull ache of his injuries started to fade under the oppressive cold. Even though his limbs barely worked any more he managed a slow crawl. Herman knew how dangerous the cold could be on the human body and while moving might aggravate his injuries, all that would ever find him in that ditch, was death.

Another violent convulsion caught up to him as he climbed up a section of crumbling steps that shifted under his weight all the way up to lobby level of the building. He fell against the wall and slid down to lay along the cement stairs for a moment. When he gathered the strength to rise again he found that the pain had become suppressed.

"I must be going into shock," Herman tried to say. But it didn't come out right. His speech was slurred, but he managed to say one word clearly enough. "Fuck"

When he made it to the lobby he found all the large glass windows on the front of the building shattered. Glass was strewn around the lobby and flames reflected off the shattered windows. None of the parking lights seemed to be working and the lights of buildings in the distance were missing. Twisted metal and concrete burned against the darkness. What the hell happened? Was it an earthquake or some kind of bomb? For that matter, where is everyone? The building and the parking lot were completely empty. Not even bodies were left from whatever caused this damage.

Stumbling to his feet he made his way outside into the marking area looking for his car. Finding it he reached into hid pocket and pulled out his keys immediately dropping them.

"Nhh..." Herman felt dizzy and almost fell over as he stooped to pick them up.

His hands weren't working right and he just couldn't manage to unlock his door. His hands slipped against the plastic siding and wouldn't hold the keys right. That's when he saw himself in the mirror. Dried blood was running down his face from a head injury and his eyes didn't look right. He needed to get to a hospital and he couldn't even get into his own car. The only way to get there was to walk and hope that he got help along the way before his injuries caught up to him.

As he walked out onto the street he saw other injured people walking together. They had banded together to make it to the city. All of them were injured pretty badly like Herman, and he shuffled hurriedly to catch up. Joining the crowd of people wordlessly he knew they would make it to safety as long as they stuck together. It seemed like almost no time had passed when towering buildings started passing on either side of them. He didn't even feel tired after the long walk, but he did feel hungry. There was a coffee shop around the corner and Herman went inside.

"Oh, my God what happened to you? You need a hospital." The woman behind the counter put down a magazine on fashion and picked up a phone. "What's going on out there?"

Herman stood there confused about what to do now. He wanted to order a bagel and a latte. A bagel and a latte! A bagel and a freaking latte! Fuck! Why can't I just say it! Give me a fucking bagel and a goddamn latte! Herman stumbled torwards the counter.

"The phones don't seem to be working, and the power is out. It only happened a few hours ago. If this building didn't have a backup generator we'd have to close."

That's when Herman bit her. He didn't know why he did it. It just seemed like the thing to do at the time. He immediately felt bad about it. He'd taken a good size chunk out of her neck and wanted to spit it out. He swallowed.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" the woman cried out while holding her neck. "Get away from me!"

Other injured came into the coffee shop. They must be hungry to. They head for the counter to order. Over the counter to see about the hurt woman. Oh God their biting her to. What is wrong!?

Herman heard gunshots being fired and turned around. Some men on a truck were firing into the injured. What are they doing? Can't they see that they are hurt and just want help?

A man walked in holding a shotgun and a chainsaw. The chainsaw was bloody. What kind of sicko was this?

"Get away from that woman!"

All they want is something to eat. She got hurt. I bit her. Why?

Chunks of Herman's flesh flew off of him. The man shot him. Didn't feel it. Why?

The world goes around. Herman hits the floor. Chunks of brain beside him. Dead?