Snippet #1348514

Charlie trudged through the sewers, the only indication he was there being the faint glow of a cigarette. His shoes clicked against the stone walkway he was traveling on, barely thick enough to accommodate him, as he blended into the darkness. Charlie had no need for a light, as he had accustomed himself to extreme darkness. The smell also had a disappointing effect, but when you exhume bodies for a living, you get used to putrid odors.


He had been surviving in these sewers for at least three days. Police had chased him to the drainage pipe next to his graveyard on suspicion of murder. Charlie dubbed it "Self Preservation", 37 cases of it. It truth, he had blown away those souls because they had attempted to loot corpses. They decided that grandma's wallet served a better purpose in the safe hands of themselves. Still, the parents and friends of the robbers had rallied and called to police at threat of violence. So, the police came with shotguns, and nearly smoked the poor man right then and there. Luckily, Charlie had crawled through the drainage pipe at the last second, and escaped. He had been living of rat meat cooked with a lighter, and he smelled as bad as the meat tasted. At least, he thought, I grabbed my supplies pack.


He was mulling over the concept of if he should make a stand, and go out guns blazing, when he heard a voice.

"No sign of the girl. Brat must have escaped."

Charlie darted to the nearest corner, looking for the voice's host. After a few seconds, he spotted a policeman. A rookie by the looks of him, and by the fact he got stuck with patrolling through a couple feet of shit, He was pretty sure he was right. Charlie tightened his grip on the over-under shotgun that he had carried with him. The cop was armed, and searching a poor soul in the same hole as he was. He stubbed out his cigarette, and began to creep of the the cop, gun raised. The policeman, fuming over his position, failed to notice the man waiting to blow his brains out. Charlie finally managed to get at point-blank range, and pulled the trigger. BANG. The shot breifly illuminated the dark, throwing the shooter's grim and blank face into sharp detail. A truly merciless man, the bucksot blasted the cop square in the face. Brain matter and bits of skull splattered against the wall. The cop fell heavily into the water, dropping the gun he barely had time to draw, and no time to use. The gravedigger reached into the stagnant water, and pulled out a Glock 9. Convenient.

He quietly slipped the gun into his belt, and looked around yet another corner. Charlie found himself staring at could be described as the most pathetic thing he had ever seen. It was a young girl, cut, filthy, and sobbing. He remained stone face as he silently set down his pack, and pulled out his only medikit, and the one blanket he owned. If I don't get some credit for this in Hell, I'm fucked. He wrapped it up, and tossed at the girl, walking out simultaniusly. "Merry Christmas. You're no use to me dead, so patch yourself up." He stood there, unaware he probably was giving her a heart attack.


(I apologize for the lack of quality, but this was rushed.)