A Shrouded World - Whistlers Read Online Free PDF Page A

nothing.
    Now , this is behaving more like a dream . I send a third greeting his way with the same result.
    Lifting my cross hair a touch, I squeeze the trigger again. The bullet flies out, intersecting with his face to the right of his pale and dirt-encrusted nose. Gouging the skin, the round’s path alters and tears through the soft tissue of the eye. Unencumbered, it races through the brain and forcefully collides with the skull. The cranium gives way and the bullet exits, leaving a large hole just above his ear. Chunks of hair, skin, and brain follow in the bullet’s path, but there is a distinct lack of the pink mist I’ve seen in the past. The man’s legs buckle and he drops to his knees before falling to the ground face first.
    Okay, well, at least head shots seem to work .
    Although the moaning from the man stops with his tumble to the pavement, I pick up other faint sounds of the same being carried on the wind. Checking out the area, I discern no movement. I keep my M-4 trained on the downed man as I hesitantly step forward. So far, I’m not overly thrilled with this place, dream or not. If I was going to have a dream, I’d rather have one that…well, let’s just say that this wouldn’t be it.
    I walk along the avenue between the cars noticing that a few more of them have blood streaks under the grime covering them. Drawing close to the figure lying on the highway, I pick up the stench of something dead – I mean long dead – and there isn’t the usual iron scent of blood that’s been spilled. Dark liquid slowly trickles out of the newly created hole in the man’s head, forming a small, oil-like pool just below it. Avoiding the mess, I roll the body over with my foot. The disgusting odor roils upward, gagging me. Looking down at the ruined face, my previous sight of him wasn’t anywhere near what it is like seeing it up close.
    The man, if that’s what I can call him, looks like he’s been dead for longer than the scant moments it took to reach him. It’s what I’d expect to see if I came upon someone that has been dead for a lot longer. The blue-gray skin is covered in old sores and cuts that never healed. The missing lips reveal darkly stained and chipped teeth; the remainder of his mouth and lower chin are coated with old blood. The clothes covering the putrid body are shredded and covered with dark blemishes to the point that the original coloration isn’t apparent. Long-dead-yet-mobile equates to ‘zombie’ in my book. I’d laugh at this idea if my last few months hadn’t included night runners. I’m at least thankful it was this, whatever it is, instead of them. Night runners on the prowl in the light would definitely ruin my already grand day.
    A scream erupts from nearby. Several others quickly follow. Turning, I see five figures emerge from the tree line and begin running in my direction. It’s not the drunken stupor walk of the previous one, but a flat out run. They appear in better shape than the sickening decay of flesh lying at my feet, but they still have a ghostly complexion. To all appearances, they look like night runners, although they’re not as fast. And now, my day that started off so well appears to be heading downhill in a hurry. Let’s call it as it is – it has become majorly fucked up.
    I’d like to wake up and go back to my other world now .
    That one may not have been full of puffy clouds and pearly gates, but at least I didn’t have night runners streaking out of wood lines during the day. Yeah, I’m done with this place.
    Raising my M-4, I center on the chest of one that is slightly ahead of the others. A kick against my shoulder lets me know that a round is streaking outward. I send a second one on its heels. The first bullet hits just off center of the sternum staggering the pale figure racing across the grass. Another dark spot appears on the light t-shirt which indicates my second round has found its mark, causing it stumble. The figure recovers and