Sam's legs feel numb, so he crouches low in the bushes that he's suddenly found himself in. The leaves smell much like cinnamon and stewed apples. It reminds him of his mother for a moment and that's when he realises he's actually starving.
"I need to find some food," he whispers into the negative silence, combing his fingers through his dirty hair. He hasn't had a proper bath since… God knows when. It feels like he's been stuck in this hellhole for almost a million years.
Something moves in the distance. Sam squints up ahead and spots a diner down the road. Thank God.
He half-jogs, half-lumbers up to the diner. Its signage proclaims 'Sinister Sausage Eatery' but he doesn't dwell too much on what that could even mean. He barges into the squat wooden building and the floors creak like they're about to give way.
It is dark inside. But not so dark that Sam can't make out the dust-covered tables and the cheap plastic chairs and the hulking countertop and the lopsided cash register. He notes the musty smell in here with distaste and resigns himself to vaulting the counter and crossing into the kitchen.
"MY SUPPER IS YOUR SPURTING BLOOD," a seemingly disembodied voice breathes loudly into his ears just as he enters through the swinging doors and Sam immediately throws himself to the ground and barrel rolls to one side, hands scrabbling for his gun.
He has no gun.
"God, fuck." Sam scurries to a standing position and reaches for the nearest object: a rolling pin.
There is a figure by the door. It is a hulking dog the size of a horse, with bleeding eyes and a stump leg.
It growls at him in a semi-human voice. "GET ON YOUR KNEES AND I WILL EAT YOUR HEAD AND YOUR HAIR AND YOUR SHOULDER BLADES TO GIVE ME UNLIMITED STRENGTH."
Sam considers this for a moment before chucking his rolling pin at the growling dog. He legs it to the other side of the kitchen and out through the back door.
The dog does not follow.
Sam is still unbearably hungry.