Disclaimer: I do not own rights to Drive Angry or the Mas Max movies.
For you Fallout junkies: Dogmeat is the name of Mad Max's dog, Fallout was allowed to use it with a reference to Mad Max in Fallout 1.
Rated M for language, violence, and sex scenes in later chapters.
Chapter 1: Two Men, Two Guns, and Dogmeat.
Max sat by his dim fire sliding the brush through his sawn-off shotgun barrel. As he sat there, a small brown mutt dog came up next to him and nuzzled his face into Max's pants. "What the hell are you doing, Dogmeat?" Max said setting down the shotgun. He used both hands to fight his dog away. Dogmeat push and scrapped to smell his master's worn pants. He pushed and scrapped, then stopped. His head shot up, his ears alert, his eyes and nose facing behind Max.
"What is it, Dogmeat?" Max asked, the dog began to give a low growl, and then barked. Controlled panic shot through; he knew that his dog only barked when possible danger was near. Max grabbed his sawn-off shotgun and shoved two shells into the barrels. He snapped it shut and cocked it as he stood and turned.
He found himself staring down the barrel of a pump action sawn-off shotgun. The man holding the shotgun was in shadow, but Max could see a red ember of a cigar burning. The man breathed in a puff of tobacco, lighting the ember brighter. Max glimpsed the man's green eyes.
"Drop that piece and we'll get along just fine" The man said, slightly twisting his gun to point at Max's.
"You're the one with the upper hand, you drop yours first," Max shot back, holding his gun by its stub stock. Dogmeat let out another low growl. "Dogmeat! Sit!" The dog did so.
The man stood in silence a moment as he pondered Max's words. He lowered his gun to his side. He shot out his hand and said, "I'm John Milton: Escaped convict of Hell."
Max uncocked his shotgun and slid his it into the holster on his thigh. He took the hand to shake and said, "Mad Max: Road Warrior."
Max sat up as the sun started to illuminate the deserted landscape. Dogmeat laid next to him, asleep with his tongue hanging out. Max looked over at Milton, the once near enemy turned good friend. Milton lay on his back, his hand still gripped the handle of his shotgun. His scars from a life AND death of an outlaw streaked his face. His green eyes were now covered in a dark pair of sunglasses.
Max put another log on the dying fire and pulled out a pot and brown bag from his backpack. He set up a short iron tripod over the reviving fire. He hung the pot on the tripod and poured part of canteen into the pot. While that began to boil, he prepared the coffee beans from the brown bag and tossed them into the pot.
After several minute the pot began to smell like a good cup of coffee. Milton sat up and took a long deep breath. Max pulled out a cup made from an old water bottle and poured some coffee into it. He passed it to Milton and took a drink straight from the pot. Good coffee, he thought to himself.
"Sugar?" Milton requested. Max passed him a leather pouch with several plastic baggies in it. Milton pulled out the sugar and poured some of it into his cup. He took a drink then said, "Where're we headed again?"
Max tilted the pot back to finish off his brew. He set it down and looked at Milton. "Traders' Oasis," He said. "It's about five miles east. We can restock there, find a bed for cheap, maybe a bitch for Dogmeat. What we'll really need is the water from the pump." He paused as Milton took a final drink. "Why you ask, Milton?"
"I got business in Brimstone," he pauses. "Personal business."
After packing, the men and mutt start out heading east. About two miles walking they see dust flowing up in the distance. Max senses trouble, so he pulls his sawn-off from its holster and cocks it. Milton cocks his shotgun as well. They wait a few minutes as the dust moves closer and the men and dog can see the vehicle making the dust: dune buggy, stripped down then reequipped with light armor and a large cattle skull as a head ornament. The buggy slows down and stops about twenty feet from Max and Milton.
The door swings open and a burly raider steps out holding an AK-47. "Drop guns, now!" The Neanderthal says, flailing the gun barrel from Milton to Max to Dogmeat then back to Milton. Milton raises his shotgun by is met by bullets entering his chest. He falls to the ground, followed by the raider's head exploding, sending the body to the ground. Max lowered his still smoking gun into his holster and ran to Milton.
Milton held up his hand and said, "Just get me a drink and I'll be fine in an hour. That's one good thing about being dead." He smiled a little. Max helped Milton to a sitting position against the tire of the buggy. He dug through his backpack and pulled out a bottle of brown liquor. He uncapped it and handed it to Milton.
Milton took the bottle and drained the contents. He sat there for the next hour resting. In that time Max had stripped the raider's body and searched the buggy. It ran fine and they would use it. Anything they couldn't use they'd trade at the Oasis. When Milton could stand, he did and climbed into the passenger seat of the buggy. Dogmeat climbed over him to sit between Milton in the passenger seat and Max in the driver's seat. Max set the AK-47 in a hood mount through the nonexistent windshield. Milton did the same with his shotgun on another mount on the edge of his window. Max started the engine and the began driving toward the Oasis. Milton clutching his shotgun, Max clutching the AK and the wheel, and Dogmeat who seemed to smile sat in the car, driving into the midday sun; they rode as two men, two guns, and Dogmeat.