Walter sat there, staring into the campfire, the darkness wrapped around him like a comfortable blanket. He closed his eyes as the darkness encircled him with the dying embers. The memories of his death were more vivid than any other. There was mostly pain, emotional from watching the slaughter of his entire family and physical from the bullets that had pierced his chest. The scene played out in his dreams, it was 1950 he had just turned twenty and his entire family had gathered at the mansion he had lived in in celebration of the milestone. Everyone, including himself, had dipped into the liquor, since back then the legal drinking age in Kansas was eighteen. He had gone off to answer Nature's Call and as he was just whistling as he drunkenly stood there missing the seat when he heard the first gunshots echo through the house.

Walter's eyes snapped open at how the shots seemed to continue to echo throughout the forest around him, and then he realized they did when he heard the sound of drunken males laughing and assumed it to be local hunters. Until he heard the shrill cry of a woman, screaming for help and the men would laugh harder and fire off more shots. His sense of justice carried him into the forest after the sounds. After sprinting for several minutes he was still amazed after close to sixty years at how much his senses have improved with his rebirth. He emerged into the clearing and his brain quickly processed the near half naked woman, somewhere around his age, physical, not actual, the stale beer smell that infected the normally fresh forest air and the drunken men with hunting rifles staggering towards her that were the obvious sources of the stench.

With a yell that echoed louder than any gunshot he ran at the hunters. They slowly turned but he was still too far away to get to them before they shot him. He flinched slightly at the stings as they entered his chest before he reached the men and snatched the rifles from their fumbling hands. They stumbled backwards before screaming as they ran away. His smirk vanished as he remembered the woman and he ran over to her and handed her his leather jacket.

"It isn't much for warmth, but it should help cover the important bits." He looked away as he handed it to her. She put it on and he turned back to her, looking into her eyes, brown as chocolate and big as an owl's with fear. His hearing caught the pounding of her heart pumping wildly and his nose could smell the adrenaline that was being pumped through her veins. "Are you okay? They didn't DO anything, did they?"

She looked at her savior and barely squeaked out. "No, they grabbed me and when I tried to escape my shirt tore open and then you showed up, thanks."

He then breathed out an unfinished "You're welcome." Before collapsing, his last view was the setting sun, golden as his eyes, and the worried young woman, and his last thought was: 'The sun is setting? I must have slept through the day too.' The familiar pain from the bullets lodged in his chest as he blacked out stirred up the dream he was having. The gunshots had gone off and Walter finished going as fast as he could and ran to his parents' room. His father kept a Colt 1903 in the drawer of his bedside table, he wasn't sure of how many gunmen there were but he hoped its seven rounds would be enough.

He crept down the spiral staircase and toward the backyard where everyone had been gathered. What he saw can only be described as 'morbid'. His family was riddled with holes, blood stained their lawn and he was about to collapse and allow sorrow to overtake him when he heard the scream of his eight year old cousin Beth. He ignored the massacre and barreled back inside, remembering she and her mother had come inside to fix her lunch at about the same time he had gone off to use the toilet. He stepped into the kitchen and saw Beth crying over her mother's pale body, the gunman in front of him, unaware of his presence, he shot him in the head and gather Beth in his arms, determined to save his only remaining family member. They were nearly to the front doors when there was another gunshot and hot pain exploded from his leg and he dropped himself and young Beth onto the tiles. He filled with rage as he turned on the three men coming from behind them, his leg forgotten he rose and started shooting, he nailed the man on the left with a couple shots before the remaining two unloaded the rest of the clips in their Tommy guns and filled him so full of bullets that nothing remained of the front of his T-shirt. He crashed onto the floor, dead before he ever hit the floor. The white tiles where now stained a crimson as red as his hair, as the hitmen approached the young girl and pulled pistols from beneath their shirts.

Walter woke up from his healing trance to find the expelled bullets on the ground, the bloody clumps of metal bright against the dark green grass. Then looking around him he saw no sign of the woman. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he saw flashlights and policemen with dogs combing the area. No doubt the woman went to them for help when she saw him collapse. Walter knew she meant well but this would only raise questions he didn't want to answer. He silently took to the trees and leapt from branch to branch, right over the policemen's heads. The dogs barking wildly as his scent drifted down to them, she must have used his coat to help them track him. He made his way back to where he had his bike parked and walked it until he was far enough away that starting it wouldn't alert the search party. He revved the engine and took off to the only place he wanted to go...the nearest restaurant, he was starving.

It was about midmorning when he arrived at the older style burger joint. It was mid-July and the sun was beating on his neck, the heat slightly uncomfortable. His perfect condition 1954 Harley Davidson with the 50th Anniversary Logo looked odd next to the old beater cars the local kids owned. He walked in and ordered a dozen bacon double cheeseburgers. He got a questioning look from the waitress but when he pulled out his wallet and offered to pay up front so she knew he had the money, she relented and stuck the slip with the rest for the chef to make.

The bell jingled as another customer came in, but this time it was accompanied by a loud gasp. He turned and saw the woman from last night staring at him in horror. She looked better, not as pale, definitely showered, and now wore a plaid button down shirt over light blue jeans, and her worker boots pounded on the linoleum floor as she slowly made her way over to him. He breathed in deeply and prepared to make up some lie about wearing a vest or something, but when she sat down and he looked into those eyes something melted and figured he would tell her the truth, or at least some version of it. Before she could say anything he jumped in.

"Are you okay?" He was hoping to make her forget about him, or atleast stall for a while.

"Yeah I'm fine, but what about you?"

Well that didn't work well. "I'm fine. I'm a fast healer." Not a lie.

"The police said they found no clue as to where you were, what happened?"

"I woke up and left, I guess they never saw me." Also not a lie.

"I wanted to thank you again, while I have you here."

"It was no problem, wasn't my first time." Another half-truth.

"I saw the bullets hit you, I watched you bleed all over the ground after you collapsed."

"I've had worse." This one was actually a complete truth, vague, but the truth.

He was saved from her next question when the waitress showed up with his burgers. She eyed all twelve of them in shock as they were set in front of him; he offered her one and then tucked in. She nibbled at hers, her stomach was empty but she had lost her appetite. When she was only half done she set it down and turned back to him. "I never got your name."

"My name is Walter Spes." He set down his seventh burger and looked at her again. "And yours?"

"I'm Katherine Raleigh. Spes? Why does that sound familiar?" Then her eyes widened again, not nearly as wide as when they had first met at least. "Are you related to the Spes family from two cities over? I heard they were all killed in a mob hit almost over fifty years ago though."

"No, no relation, just passing through." He promptly stood up and took off down the road on his bike, wanted to get away from the questions and her unnerving stare.