What had been weeping, puss dripping sores were now dark holes in its face leaving the teeth and bone structure visible in places below the skin.Įyes that had once read books, the Sunday papers, gazed at beautiful scenery and watched movies, now lay shrivelled and dry in their sockets. The corners of its jaw and cheek bones were visible, the skin having rotted and weathered away. Its skin was mottled grey and brown and stretched tight over its face, as thin as paper and dry as match wood. Steve continued puffing away on the cigarette as he studied the man. It had seen him too, and was doing its damndest to climb the hill. He adjusted the focus and saw that what he was looking at had once been a man. He zoomed in with the binoculars again to get a better view of the figure below him. As he lit it, he could taste the smoke draw into his mouth, musty, and not as fresh as they used to be twelve years ago, but there were very few vices now, and as long as he could still find them Steve would continue to enjoy a smoke now and then. He thumbed the top open and placed one between his lips. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. A quick glance left and right again and Steve was happy in his security. It looked like a man, though from this distance, Steve couldn’t be certain. Steve remained seated and watched as the figure slipped, its feet falling away from under it and causing it to fall face first in to the grass and slide back down the hill before regaining its balance and trying again.
Down the hill, about fifty metres away, a shadowy figure shambled, struggling to negotiate the steep and slippery grass bank.
No part of this book may be reproduced or copiedĪ noise to his front snapped his head away from his binoculars and his hand instinctively reached for the weapon across his lap.
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