Chapter 29: Down the Road
Daniels' excitement over his newfound truck hadn't lasted long as it ran out of gas about 30 miles out of the city. He had checked the back for fuel reserve tanks but had no luck. All he found in the back was a standard tool box with all of the standard tools necessary to do the little odd jobs one might do around the house. The box itself wasn't heavy and considering that Daniels hadn't always had a cushy desk job, he knew his way around a tool kit. The only other mentionable item Daniels found in the truck had been a hunting rifle sitting upon a gun rack against the back window. It appeared to be a 30/30. He had taken a loose tarp out of the back of the truck and cut a strip off in order to make a makeshift sling for the weapon. The glove box had been locked and even using the truck key he couldn't get it open. As he sat in the truck, running ideas through his mind as to what he was going to do, he saw something sticking out from under the seat. It was a large wooden box. He pulled it free and set it on the seat beside him. Opening the box as quickly as possible he beheld in awe what surprises the box held.
30/30 ammunition, along with a .38 snub nose revolver and a box of ammo for it sat inside the box. His heart soared as he held the gun in his hand. It reminded him of the one his dad used to carry as a police officer. Aside from his police issued weapon, he had the revolver in an ankle holster as a last resort. He remembered admiring it then, as he admired this one now. The gun was loaded and the boxes of ammo were full. He slung the rifle in front of himself and began loading shells into it from the 30/30 box. He counted each one so he could at least try to estimate his situation, given he would have to use it. The rifle wasn't a quickly reload-able gun after all.
At final count, it held 12 rounds. He let the gun slide back around to his side as he got out of the truck. As he looked ahead, all he could see was miles and miles of road. Some of it clustered with wrecks and accidents, other areas clear and barren. He sighed as he began to trod his way down the road.
He came upon his first crash scene about a half hour after his walk initially began. He scanned the wreckage with a cursory glance but quickly turned away as he got to the opposite side. There was a body laying on the hood of one of the cars. The windshield and windows had busted or been blown out by the small explosion made by what had probably been a busted gas tank. He turned back to the body, intrigued by it. He had seen some bad things go on at the lab, but he had never actually beheld any of the corpses up close. That had been up to the orderlies. He was intrigued because the person wasn't laying on the hood because they were thrown onto it. The person had climbed out. He could tell they had been clawing at the hood, trying to gain leverage, because their nails had dug deep into the pain of the car leaving ragged marks that led back to the limp hands of a corpse. Daniels began to observe the accident in its entirety. The car with the person on the hood had been T-Boned by the other car. The other car's driver was thrown through their windshield and then through the window of the car it had hit. The other corpse, as Daniels looked closer, was laying on the legs of the person who had been trying to climb out before a random spark or whatever had caused the explosion took their life as well.
Daniels had never seen anything like it. He became sad as he beheld the tragedy that had unfolded. He could almost hear the screams of the victim, literally dying for help. Then Daniels suddenly realized that he could actually hear screaming. It was a woman. But it was coming from farther up the road. Daniels grabbed his rifle and began walking slowly forward with as much stealth as possible. As he got closer he could hear, not only the woman screaming, but the sound of several men laughing and insulting her. He also heard grunting. Rape. It was the first thought that ran through his mind, and as he got closer to the scene, he was sadly proven right. He had snuck up behind a car that had wrecked against the concrete construction wall that lined the road for several miles. He saw it happening through the window of the car. Luckily these marauders hadn't seen or heard him.
He pulled the hammer back on his rifle, not wanting to pull the lever for fear that the men would hear him. The first shot was all that counted in his opinion. The gunfire would alert them to his attention regardless if he dropped one or not. All he had to his advantage was the element of surprise. They outnumbered him 5 to 1. But he wasn't going to watch the woman suffer and stand idly by. Daniels had spent the last few years of his life working on experiments he was sure would damn his soul to Hell, if such a place really existed, and he felt it was time for redemption. Thanking God that he had chambered a round when he had initially found the gun, he pulled the hammer back slowly and laid the gun over the hood of the car, steadying his aim. He looked down the iron sights at the man who was committing the atrocity, then looked slightly to the front of him at the man holding her down. He decided to shoot him first. If he killed him, the man raping the woman would be otherwise occupied since he was fucking her and her bonds would be freed. She would likely fight back. The other three would be the problem. He would deal with them however he could, luckily he knew he'd hit what he aimed at. He used to have a hobby of target shooting. He was as close to marksman as one could get without competing for the title. He drew the bead on the man's head. Daniels pulled in a deep breath, then as he exhaled slowly, squeezed the trigger. There was an echoing boom that sounded like a crack of lightening. The man fell over backwards, the top of his head missing. The girl began to fight back. Daniels quickly turned his sights to the others and began firing. Within seconds the others were lying dead on the ground as well. But as Daniels sighted in on the last one, the bastard that was raping her, he saw the man pull a gun out and fire a round into the woman's head. She fell limp. He continued to thrust. Laughing at Daniels' attempts to save her. Daniels sighted in and fired. The round penetrated the man's left ass cheek and exited through the side of the man's dick. The man screamed and fell aside.
Daniels quickly strode up to the man and kicked the gun out of his hand. He pulled the .38 out of its holster and pointed it down at the man. "You sick fuck. And you thought you'd get away with it?" Daniels asked the man. Pure hate in his eyes. The man laughed, "I did get away with it. I came in the little cunt before you shot me." He laughed again. Daniels got a closer look at the woman and realized, she wasn't a woman. She was a kid. She couldn't of been more than 12 or 13. She reminded him of his daughter. A new fire ran through Daniels as he looked down at the man. "You raped an innocent little girl. I should hang you up by your feet and pour sand in your ass 'til the ropes break you fucking piece of shit." Daniels said as he stared at the man. The man spoke, but he wasn't heard. All Daniels could hear was his daughter's voice. Daniels felt the rage run through him. He wasn't finished with this guy yet. He had to take vengeance for her. He had to take vengeance for her father. He had to make this man pay. Daniels didn't shoot him. He ran his steel toed boot into the man's balls. He grabbed the man by the shirt and dragged his wriggling body over to the sidewalk. He flipped the man over so his face was on the ground. "Let me ask you somethin'. You ever see American History X?". Daniels said to the man. The man lay on the ground, pleading. Daniels pulled the revolver and pointed it at the man. "Put your teeth on the curb. Bite the fucking concrete." Daniels said in a monotone voice. The man continued to plead. "EAT THE FUCKING SIDEWALK!" Daniels screamed and kicked the man in his side. He complied. He whimpered. He was afraid. Daniels looked down at the man in disgust. He spit on him. Then, as the rage reached its pinnacle, he stomped on the man's head. He heard the audible crack of bones. He felt satisfaction.
Daniels walked away, unaware and apathetic as to whether the man would revive or not. He had done what he had to do. He continued down the road toward his destination. His children. His home.
