The tears returned to Amy's eyes with a vengeance, and she didn't feel like she had the energy to hold them back. They strolled down her cheeks, humiliating her with every stinging centimetre they slid. The Doctor looked over at the man, lying on the floor. He crawled, terrified of what he could find, to the body. His limbs shook uncontrollably. He barely stopped himself from falling on several occasions, fighting back the tears. And there it was. The body.
He could see that the trousers were torn: the trouser knees were shredded and the flesh underneath was no better. There were several cuts across the shirt too; it was originally white, but it was stained blood, mud and who knows what else. There were cuts and scratches on the torso beneath the shirt. One hand was missing, with a bone from the man's arm jutting out from the strands of skin and muscle. There was an absence of flesh on one side of the man's neck, with bite marks in the surrounding area. The face was a tragedy. The left eye was horrific, as the knife had met its target well. There was a gaping hole covered in blood. The man had no right cheek. It had been bitten through to his mouth, with strands of muscle from chin to ear. The right eye was heavily discoloured; instead of humanly white, it was yellow. The rest of the eye was jet black. This was no man. Not anymore.
"You never seen one o'them before?" Called a voice to the left of The Doctor. His head shot round to see the man from the bike. Now that he got a closer look, he could see that he was wearing a checked open shirt and scruffy grey trousers, also covered in blood.
"One of what? What is this? What's going on?" The Doctor replied in a harsh, shaken tone.
"It's a walker. Y'all never seen one o'these before?" Replied the man, standing high above The Doctor, who nodded in reply. "Where the hell've you been all this time then, eh?"