He continued walking onward to escape what he had done, he continued simply to not be there anymore. He didn't know how long he'd have to walk to clear his mind of his guilt, but he'd walk until he couldn't walk more. He walked until his legs felt wrong, not quite like they were sore but just not quite normal, despite how much his leg's should have hurt. He supposed it was the infection.
He could think more clearly as the sadness that he felt was pierced by the guilt he felt at his crime. He walked so far as to pass the city limit and he followed the road as he could. When day broke he walked to the side of the road and curled up under a half way overturned white semi on the shoulder. The light hurting his eyes he covered his face with thick blood stained claws. The reminder of what he had done shrouding his face. His sadness began to sink back into his mind and it clouded his thoughts. He began to weep into his claws again and he lost track of time.
When the clouds began to roll in, his eyes ceased hurting and when he got up to walk his mind began to clear once more. It seemed to him that his sadness could only take a serious hold and dampen his thoughts when he sat in one place for a length of time. The light breeze whipped his snow white and blood stained hair into his face and the noise of the world around him rang in his ears. When the rain began to patter down and lightly wet his shirt he found a truck on the side of the road and tried to open the door. When he could not maneuver his claws on the latch he slammed his fist through the metal door and tore the latch open.
He crawled into the front and lay across the seats. Reaching out with his foot so as not to more damage the vehicle he hooked it through the hole his fist had made and pulled the door closed. Laid against the soft leather interior he actually felt comfortable for the first time since his change, and as the sadness set in he focused on the loud pattering rain and managed to push it away from his mind to fall comfortably into sleep.
Waking to be on the road once again, and the rain dried up, the sun had nearly set behind the city he came from. He continued his walk onward until the previous city was left behind him. The city he died in… The city he killed in… As it fell behind him he began to feel better. Time passed and he moved more and more.
As he moved at about 6 miles outside the city limit he heard a repetitive banging noise from a distance down the road. It would end and continue with no seeming pattern. It slammed against his head with each blasting wave and hurt his ears. He backed away from the source of the sound but the loud slam off in the distance seemed to follow him.
He walked off the side of the road and he sat on the ground next to an overturned car. As the sound grew closer and closer it caused him to lose more and more of a grip on his mind until he was just sitting on the side of the road, covering his ears and weeping. Nothing in his thoughts but wishing that sound was no-more.
It seemed like the sound was so loud it could deafen anyone, and yet he knew it was just his over sensitive ears. The banging led him to be so irrational he couldn't hear anything but the banging as its source finally came into view.
Three people came up the road, one armed with a sig .45 and the other two armed with poles, the one with the gun was a male, 5'11'', he was semi well-built and seemed to know his way around a pistol, the two with poles were women around twenty, swinging their way through the zombies and the man dumping rounds into the groups of common infected. As his head rung more and more he could do nothing but stare and he began to weep.
As the people approached and noticed him they all slowed down.
"Shhh… be quiet, there's a witch up ahead" the man said quietly. The two women nodded and they kept walking and began to pass him. Then one of the women spoke up quite loudly.
"Is that a male witch?"
"Why yes I believe so!" the other women said nearly as loud.
"Oh be quiet you two it's still a witch." The man almost whispered. They were attempting to be quiet as they began to pass the male witch from a little away. They continued to walk past but a zombie jumped out of a truck bed at them right as they passed him, the man whipped around and fired three rounds into the zombie. It fell with a bloody thud and a pool began to form around its corpse.
The noise of the shots fired so close hurt like an explosion in his brain, and enraged the male witch. He couldn't control his rage as his vision went red and he nearly leapt off of the ground. The wail of the witch rang to the man and he wheeled to shoot at the witch. He fired three shots, two tore into his middle and his blood seeped from the wounds, and they served but to enrage him more as his fist smashed into the man. The sheer force of the first swing lifted the man off of the ground and cracked his ribs.
The witch wheeled around and sliced the man across the gut. His entrails fell forth and spilled out toward the ground. His blood splashed up and mixed with the blood already coating the witch. The man fell backward and the witch tore onto him. His claws tore flesh and cracked bone. The man's screams fell quiet and the witch continued swinging.
The women knew the man was already dead and they began to back away, at fifty feet or so they turned to run and they dropped their poles behind them. The terror he caused rang with him while he was enraged like this. He still tore the man's flesh as blood pooled as it could not possibly more thoroughly coat the man or himself. The man was already dead and the witch began to slow his swings. The reality of the situation set in… And it meant nothing to him. He was a witch. He was startled by loud noises. The man should have been more careful. It was not his fault the man was mistaken.
The witch turned to walk down the road. The source of the hurting sound had passed. He was free from that torture, and now he could continue. He was walking no longer to escape his violence, but more to move on to a new place and to put his humanity behind him.
As he walked the blood began to dry against him. It was caked on and he began to wish for some rain to wash the blood off of him. Shortly after silently wishing that to himself the clouds thickened, and the sun finally fully set. With the sun gone and the stars covered there was next to no light. Even in the near pitch black he could see.
A light rain began to fall and he stopped walking to allow the water to loosen the blood. He ran the edge of a claw along his skin, pulling off the caked blood. He ran his claws through his hair and it combed the blood out. He turned his face upward and opened his mouth wide to the cool rain, taking an almost drink from the sky. He felt cleaner than he had since his transformation however many days ago it had been.
The rain soaking his shredded clothes and hair chilled him and the night air slightly chilled him. He kept walking however. Seeing a sign on the side of the road he tried to focus and read it to see where he was. He couldn't get a good view and it all blurred though he had great vision to everything else. He simply couldn't read. As he got closer to the sign the letters on it didn't clear at all. Taking a risk at that point he simply took the exit after the sign.
The sign took him into a city. Seeking shelter from the cold he continued inward, toward the center of the city. He ducked into a subway and it was dank but there was no wind and it was warmer then outside. He wandered the subway for a short amount of time and he found a vending machine that was broken open.
He grabbed some candy and a drink out of it. He couldn't read what either said but he tore open the candy and it was sweet and chocolaty. He attempted to unscrew the cap and just punctured the bottle, the light green fluid dripping out. He poked a bigger hole and held it up to drink out of it. It tasted citrusy and he guessed lemon and grapefruit. He grabbed out more candy and tore into various snacks from the machine. A lot of it had been looted before this but he was more than satisfied with his haul of candy and snacks and sodas.
As he walked through the subway he saw multiple overturned rail cars but nothing that seemed to be a good place to rest for his weary cold self. Finally he found an upright car with a big red door and supplies inside. It had guns and medic kits, none of which he could use of course, and it had some food and water that he did not need as he had just eaten. But it also had a soft bedroll that he could lay on for a night. So he went back to the first door and pulled it closed by its window bars. Then he lay down on the bedroll and relaxed. Even when the sadness he had become accustom to set in he barely cried, almost silently, and fell into a deep sleep.
