Disclaimer : I own nothing. Duh. Enjoy. ;)
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I heard this quote once.
I'm not even sure where. Maybe from Dad, but he wasn't really much for words. At least, not other people's words. He could throw one hell of a speech at you, though, if you questioned him, or the hunt.
It kinda reminds me of him, though.
It goes, "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."
That's why I'm out here, Sammy, I wanted to tell him back in the asylum. Back before he shot me. It's not because I'm following orders. I'm not a good little soldier.
Fuck, I'm no 'good man'.
I drink too much, swear too much, drive too fast... hell, I guess you could say everything I do, I do in excess.
I'm far from saintly.
But if I were to sit back and do nothing, I'd be helping all this evil shit that seems to cling to the world. I'd be helping whatever it is that killed mom and fucked up our family. That killed the girl Sammy loved...
Doing nothing makes me no better than the sick freaks who conjure this shit. Or the shit that conjures itself.
Whatever.
I'm not claiming I'm an angel, or even a decent guy.
I'm just saying.
I think for a moment about asking Sam who said that. He'd know. He always knows.
He's the smart one in the family.
He thinks I'm not proud of him, I know that much.
Stupid kid.
I wrap one arm around my chest, and turn the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life, but even that beautiful sound can't make me smile tonight.
In the passenger seat, Sammy's staring out the windshield, not really looking at anything. He's got that intense look on his face that means he's trying damn hard to do anything BUT talk about what happened.
Good boy.
I put the Impala in gear and with a screech of tires, we're gone, off into the night.
The speed limit's forty, posted in stark black on white numbers, easily seen as my headlights splash across the sign.
I'm pushing sixty.
I want to leave this place behind us, and I want to do it now.
I really should ask him someday.
About the quote, of course, but deep down, there's a more pressing question that won't leave me alone.
'Did you mean it?'
Seventy.
I'm good at this. I've been outrunning things since I was a kid.
Besides, this is the perfect car to do it in.