Death Sweat Death

It had been three long years. Three long years of what seemed like forever. A deep breath had been took as the border of North America was crossed *from South America*. A faint melody is created into existence as the immigrant whistles beneath his hood. His sweater flaps loosely with the wind revealing loosely flying headphone wires. He stands there for a minute and then vanishes into the wind finding himself 12 miles away from his original location. He ends up on an empty street or so he thought. He stops whistling to himself and chuckles as he realizes his destination is very near. In an instant without realizing it a giant Pepsi truck was headed his way closing in for one hell of an impact. It was too late to stop now. The guy would be standing right after that hard curve in the road, slamming on breaks would probably flip the truck over and kill both the driver and the idiot in the middle of the street. The Pepsi trucks horn is honked. that's just about all that could be done. The person turns his head, removes his headphones, and scream releasing a high pitch unappealing sound wave tough enough to break glass through the air. The truck driver takes his hands off the wheel to cover his ears and ends up flipping over. The truck rolls 6,7,8 times before it lands into the nearest ditch. the person watches as if this was natural and when it can to a solid stop caught in the fallen branches of fallen trees he walked over to it. There was a small flame that had sparked near the gas tank of the truck. He stares intently for a while before realizing that the driver was still alive trying to escape. crushed into the front passenger door when he tried to escape that way, he raises his hand. H-Help me. The figure stares at him. P-Please! He screams again causing the gas gauge to explode releasing spilling oil on that flame that caused a huge explosion.The figure had already vanished again this time in the opposite direction. Continuing this pattern all the way to Miami Florida. The next day he ends up in a coffee shop, eating a simple breakfast and he stops drinking his latte when he realizes his work of art was on the television. He smiles to himself. One, two, Death im comin for you. He then pays for his meal and leaves and this time he is on his way south. As he walks again he begins to once more start whistling this annoying yet catchy tune.