Warren Williams hobbled slowly across the uneven rocky terrain unsteadily, his desiccated limbs curiously more unsteady to the task of walking than they had been in life. The mummification process being to blame he mused. The sun had risen to mid-morning now. He appeared like any other type of desert life in being a source of tremulous shade against the rising heat of the sun for any insects that might be buzzing around the sickly sweet aroma that his life deprived carcass might offer. The saline quality of the soil had done its job well and any attempt at burrowing fresh larvae into his heat blackened flesh was instantly defeated by its leathery high salt content. Even the nibble on his ankle from some passing coyote had been a brief inconsequential effort due to the same effect. It didn’t stop the constant dive bombing though of occasional swarms of desert gnats and flies that his reanimate persistent presence seemed to call to. He couldn’t feel anything through his senses anymore at least not directly. This variety of afterlife merely suggested sensation or awareness remotely much like a lurking unseen nanny cam security camera might find it’s unwary subjects. Still the interaction with the still very much alive anathema of the efforts of an ignoble class of predators became more than annoying as his much diminished frame attempted progress towards the eventuality of a highway. This measure of continued earthly existence after death had more than it’s share of unexpected trials and shortcomings.
But Warren was currently not is a questioning mood at this point. Frustration and the immediacy of conflicting emotions seemed as distant to him as his former life. The only thought that colored his quest at this point was to get back what had been stolen from him by the enactment of a brutally inflicted vengeance. The composition of this central motivation included billboard sized images that collaged the facial expressions of his enemies with their physical dissolution by mechanical means of bullets, axes or other novel means of horrific bodily destruction. The pictures being flashed inside his unseen temporal cave seemed to afford the kiosk style menu view of a popular first person shooter computer game. The inventory of implements at his disposal as initial arms to wield in the hope of finding bigger, better ever more lethal tools that could cause even more mayhem. The imagined blood curdling screams supporting undulating visages of each of his former aggressors as they took him in as he currently was an instant before the impact of the first blow. This was the context of inexhaustible fuel the central powerhouse that drove forth the faulty mechanism of his failed physicality that his unexpected sojourn to this desert had left him with. The why or wherefore of this mystical translation escaped him. Only the occasional unexpected discovery of lingering physical limitation seemed to give slight pause to this fire.
Logic such as it was had demanded that he would have to re-embrace the land of the living to insure his quest but with no forethought to the relative effect of the revealing of his current self to random members of the community of the still living. His blind obsession with revenge had not deprived him of a certain sense of rational postulate inquisition as to how he could diminish the effect of what would be an extremely unpleasant shock to some otherwise indifferent passerby. It was evident that in his current state it could be assumed that he could literally walk forever as many times around the globe in an uninterrupted manner as it took to find the guilty parties that he would soon punish. The vague recollection of baroque B-grade horror films came to mind and overlapped his own malevolent musings in this regard. Some delicacy in encounter might be demanded depending on the circumstance of each random encounter. The simple questions loomed as to whether he could still drive an automobile if indeed the situation afforded itself. It was plain that if any word of his lingering presence in the world of the living were to be made public it might become exponentially difficult to track down the perpetrators of his own demise. All this preoccupied his continued rambling gait producing a defense against simple boredom or the complete blind investment in his vengeful obsessions. The mystical colors of dawn in the desert had now been fully leached by the sun rising ever higher up into the sky toward its customary showdown with high noon.