Rebekah Johnson slowly walked through the barren land; around her, red-orange dust clouded her vision and coated the inside of her mouth, causing her tongue to stick to the roof of it as if she'd just eaten a spoonful of peanut butter. Looking up, she could see that no longer was the sky blue, but tan sepia –the same as the dust surrounding her. The trees in the distance, she knew, hand been stripped of their leaves long ago.
The silence did nothing but thicken the air even more, and created an uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. The only sound that met her ears was the sound of her uneven breaths as she tried to steady her sporadic heart rate. Rebekah had never known of a place such as the one she currently stood in, nor did she think she'd want to, given a choice.
She knew nothing of how she had come to this place, only that she no longer wanted to be there. Just as the dust had not settled, nor had her uneasiness towards the large expanse of land. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with dust. Quickly, she regretted her action, as she was sent into a fit of coughs, the hacking sound echoing through the vastness, and coming back to her tenfold.
Looking around, she saw nothing; she was alone, or so it seemed. Her anxiousness had also brought with it a feeling of curious eyes watching her. Paranoia cloaked her in heavy darkness, causing her to look over her shoulders often. It was during one of her paranoia induced glances that she finally saw him.
He stood, hands hanging limply at his sides; they barely brushed ragged jeans that hung from his hips. His long hair fell carelessly in his eyes, barely brushing his shoulders. She had no idea how he could see anything through the thick fringe, but he did; she could feel his gaze and she knew he saw her. Something about his presence beckoned her to come closer, then again, something else warned her to stay away.
There was no way that she could just turn and walk away from him. What if he needed help? It wasn't in her nature to leave those who needed help without it. It was something she'd felt since she was a small child—the need to help people, no matter the cost to her well being.
She opened her mouth to speak, but found that she could not. What would she have said if she could? Would she had screamed for him to run? But run from what? There was nothing around except that feeling of uneasiness. Could she possibly explain that she had a feeling that there was impending doom hanging right over their heads? She doubted that he could have heard her from the distance he stood regardless.
Reaching a hand out towards him, fingers outstretched, she took a step towards him, the then another, and another. Soon she was running at full speed, ignoring the burning in her lungs and the sting in her eyes as she fought to keep them open against the grittiness of the dust.
It was only when she heard a sickening crack underfoot that she stopped. Almost ruefully, she looked down. Beneath her foot lay a mound of rotting flesh and bone. Once a man, now he was nothing more than a shell of green skin and dead eyes; under the rubber soles of her trainers, he lay broken like the long forgotten toy of a child, a bullet hole graced the space between his eyes. In an instant, a piercing scream echoed through the silence, rebounding off invisible walls.
As her scream died and she fought to regain her breath, she searched for the man that she'd seen only seconds ago. Her breath caught in her chest when she saw that he was so much closer than he'd be when she stopped, and then it hit her, he was the reason for uneasiness. She couldn't make her feet move, no matter how hard both her brain and her heart willed them to; if she could, she would have ran the other way.
She was vaguely aware that the smell of sulfur invaded her senses as his eyes went dark and he lunged at her. The last thing she heard was the faint sound of rustling wings.