The beach was now quiet, save for the odd birdsong from the outlying trees. The only sound that could be heard was the steady lapping of the ocean at the shore. Had any one been around looking out to the sea, they would have seen the foggy outline of a small seafaring vessel making it's way slowly towards the shore. It's engine was putting away as it was slowly down. The lone driver could obviously see the shore and was slowing down.
The beach had been quiet for many years now, now children running in and out of the surf. No parents talking, but keeping a wary eye on the children. No day visitors just getting some quiet from the city. Now all that remained was a solitary corpse lying face down in the sand. The body should have long since decayed, but unseen events had kept it at a stable barely working rate.
Just the slow sound of the approaching boat, and the quiet lap of the shore. Eventually the boat slowly began to rise as its bow crunched up onto the silvery sand. It pushed it's was up the beach while its engine was still in the water. However the strain put on the old boat was too much and the engine died with a loud bang followed by a slow whine like an old dog dreaming in its sleep. There was a pause and some additional clunks came from the boat.
Then suddenly a dark figure leapt over the brow of the boat and landed into a crouch on the sand. He looked up at his surroundings quickly. He wore all black, he wore what appeared to be a ripped t-shirt. Around his dark figure was a cloak, it was huge and ragged, it covered his skinny but muscular body. The end of the cloak was frayed as though it had been ripped and snagged over long periods of time. His legs were clad in some black combat trousers, or what were once combat trousers, they had been bound with black cloth in certain points. His boots were old, any one around may have noted they were in medieval in appearance. In fact his whole appearance may be likened to a medieval assassin, or spy. His cloak covered the bottom part of his face, leaving his eyes visible and a bit of his nose. His right eye bore a scar from the top by his eyebrow down his right cheek. The eye remained untouched and scanned the beach vigilantly.
Suddenly the corpse sprang to life, it raised itself up on it's arms and looked dead at the dark man. Its mouth hung open, almost in amazement. However something wasn't right with the look in its eyes. From the hanging mouth it let out a primeval guttural roar. It stood up whilst moving as quick as it could towards the dark man.
The dark man saw the movement and expected it, his hand moved to his hips, where two large revolvers hung. Within an instant his hand had pulled out a gun and a shot fired from its goliath barrel, smashing into the corpses skull. It's brains spayed over the beach.
The dark man stood up slowly, expecting the sounds of footsteps out of the fog at any moment. His scarred hand returned the revolver slowly. His fingernails looked as though they had been removed once in the past. The scars around them looked as though they were incredibly painful. However he seemed unbothered by them. Round his wrists were many bracelets and symbols of the man's faith. His guns had symbols carved into them. Many of them recognisable to any Christian of the past, along with those on his wrist.
He gathered his surroundings once more and then reached to a pouch on his belt and pulled out a compass, he looked around and then found north and decided to head that way. He clambered back onto his boat to retrieve a rucksack, and a water flask. He attached it to his belt. Then jumping back off the boat he put one foot in front of the other and headed northwards.
He didn't look back at the boat; it had fulfilled its purpose and had brought him across the Atlantic Ocean. Across from his old home, from his old friends, his dead friends. He was the only one left. Each death he had taken and bore slowly. Each had saddened him. He had prayed for them all. He had fought for them all, but mostly he had failed them all.
With God as his watcher, the man formerly know as Preacher, or Ben. Now the Dark Man headed northwards.