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Saturday, August 30, 2014

Weary Road - A Short Story

The man wore a pair of black sunglasses that were in all honesty too large for his face.   They were cheap looking, plastic and crooked.   Despite their limited value they did their job well as he drove his old Volkswagen bus down the empty desert streets.   The unbearable sun cooking the rest of his flesh upon his face but not the area surrounding his eyes.   Already his face was tanning a pitch far passed necessity, so that the spaces around his eyes were pale in comparison.   This he did not care about, whether or not his face was evenly darkened, and properly colored.    He had to reach the other end of the desert for the empty vast spaces of it all were starting to cause him to become nervous.  It was as though the apocalypse had already arrived and he had not been aware.   As if all the life on the earth had been swooped up into the heavens by the almighty hand of the creator and he had managed to slip through the crack in the fingers.
A clanking sound emitted from the engine block and the bus shook frantically for a moment until he shifted into a higher gear and all went as quiet as it could.  It could never be too quiet, for the bus had seen many days, in fact many years.  It was the product of a bye gone era, stinking of weed and piss.   The only remnant of its previous owners.   The carpeted floors were stained with god only knew what but the man cared not to figure.   There was only one reason to own it, and it was that it was cheap, and it could get him to where he needed to go.   His end destination he had nearly forgotten, some new home he was going to, some woman he was destined to meet.   None of that mattered either, for there was only one purpose now to find civilization once again.
He took a quick glance at his fuel gauge and satisfied with its place felt a relief on his heart.  There was nowhere worse to be stranded than in the middle of this dust field where the only company was the beating heat of an unforgiveable sun.   He thought about the cliché’s of such a place.  The picked clean skull of a bighorn, the heat waves upon the open air, a solitary vulture pathetically eating the carcass of some mouse.   He saw the cacti and the cracked earth, a man dragging himself and praying for water or a quicker death than what was coming to him.  This place was a certain kind of hell, and he would not remain any longer than necessary in its torturous climate.
Before him the sun began to descend, and the passage of time seemed to quicken as the light faded from bright to dusk.  He felt the cooling relief of the air that was once heated by the stars fire, but now free to simmer down to its normal conditions.   Even though the cooling began to take effect, and even though the sun was no longer burning his eyes he kept those large rounded sunglasses on the bridge of his nose.   They sat askew, dangling to the left but he never adjusted them knowing that they would fall right back to where they were.   Into the passing of the night he kept them on, and he kept his eyes glued to the headlights beams as they guided his bus forward and onto the blackened wasteland.   Both hands gripped the steering wheel in iron fists, and he could not bring himself to remove the sunglasses, for out of nowhere danger would reveal itself when he was but a millisecond distracted.
That was when the deer showed itself.  A large buck with antlers that rose up into the void of black just on the edge of his headlights.   It only stood there a moment, just in the man’s way enough that he had to swerve to the left to avoid it.  He muttered a curse to himself toward the deer.   The buck had been the first sign of life that he had seen and while he was grateful that something living would be out here, it had also startled him.   Though he knew he would not be able to see the deer in his mirror he adjusted it anyway, staring into the abyss of darkness behind him.   Then a flash of a browned body was in front of him once again this time on his other side.   Another buck with antlers that vanished away beyond his high beams.   A cloud of dust kicked up as he veered off into the desert floor off from the paved way of the highway.  The fist locked tighter on the steering wheel as he found his place once again.  Then he found his foot against the brake, and the brake its way to the floor.  
In front of him a mighty buck stood with its deer horns pointing skyward into full light.   The tires squealed to a stop just a couple feet from the deer and he jerked forward rattled against his seat belt, his face swinging forth and the bridge of his nose cracking against the steering wheel.  He brought his palm to his nose and the blood poured out against his hand.   The red ooze interlacing his fingers.   His right eye saw clearly into the spaces in front of him as the lens had broken out save for a small dangling shattered thing that rested in the corner of the frame.  The man could feel the blood dripping down about his mouth, he could taste it seeping in-between his lips.  The deer stood demonic and frightening in what limited light his bus cast.    It did not move.
The bus’ horn blared out; its annoying screech beckoning the creature to leave but the deer remained.    He laid down his hand upon the steering wheel several more times but the creature was not hindered.   It stared empty toward the windshield and the man stared right back at it.   He relented that the noise would do a thing.   He revved up his engine and when it did not move, he push on the accelerator taking it out of park and he moved toward it.   But it did not move.    With the blood drying on his face he rotated the wheel so that he could bypass this obstruction but then the deer moved in front of him.   It eventually came to the point that he rested against its fur.  
The deer blew out a mist of fog from its nostrils to signify the degree in which the temperature had fallen.   And it stared.   The man looked about him into the darkness, and he was afraid.   It was as though it were some apparition from the bowels of hell, and he began to figure that maybe the apocalypse had begun that he was indeed in the final stages of the human race.   This was his tormentor his accuser for the rest of eternity.
He shifted into reverse and slammed his foot down peeling out and leaving a black streak from his tires down the length of the highway in front of him, and then when he was satisfied he’d cleared enough space he forced it back into drive and began his escape.   The man left the road and bounced about in his seat as he navigated the cracked and empty earth driving at excessive speeds, praying it would free him from this place.   The void had to end at some point; he had driven all day, for most of the night.  At some point he had to come to freedom, to civilization, his silly notion of the end of the world could not be truth.
Then the buck stepped into his light, and he moved his steering wheel and hit his brakes so that he slid to a stop on his side so that the deer was just before him against his driver’s window.   He sat still as the beast moved forward its head tilted so that its antlers pointed out as if to skewer the man.   A tip scratched across the glass and the man sat in a trembling trance.   But he waited a moment to see what would become of this action.  The deer tapped the glass again, and again.   Its tapping quickened until it flailed like mad against the window and then the barrier began to crack.  Then it cracked until it shattered into a hundred pieces, and the cold desert air moved against the man’s face.   His breath pushing out before him.
It was then that the deer stopped.  The demon quit its attack and simply walked away into the night.   The man was dumbfounded a moment, his mouth releasing his labored breaths.   The blood was crusted against his hand, against his face.   He moved his fingers around in front of his eyes, and felt his face.   He turned and looked at the shattered glass upon his seat and his missing window, and the absent animal who had accosted him.   His fear turned to fury and he threw his bus into drive and he wheeled himself about so that he faced where the animal had gone, and he drove in search of it now.   That son of a bitch wouldn’t get away with it; the animal had messed with him long enough.   Somehow it’d found its way in front of him all those times.  Somehow its speed was superior to his vehicle, that its four legged hooved feet could move it faster than his engine.
The sunglasses barely stayed on his face, his one free eye un-obscured by the tinted hue of the frames.   While his other eye was half in darkness, facing into the darkness, but he still did not care.  If by chance the thing jumped in front of him again he would not stop.  When he was satisfied he’d exhausted one direction he began to move the vehicle to face another.  It did not even matter how far removed he was from the highway now, for now there was only one purpose to his existence.
That was when he struck the beast.  As if an apparition before him it was there, and he struck it hard but it did nothing to it, and his van flipped over its back and he was deposited upside down with a shaking crash, and the engine hissed, and the tires turned feverishly against that cool desert air, and the sunglasses fell from his face against the roof of the bus.   He coughed and groaned against the dust and through the pain.   A bloodied hand found his seat belt clip and he released himself, just barely catching himself as he fell from his suspended state.   Out of the broken window he pushed himself with each foot, barely able to use his hands, forced to do his best his elbows and he lay there against the dirt.  It was freezing cold.
The buck walked about to him, and it sniffed at his bloodied face.   The man noticed an antler was cracked off from its head, and then he noticed the pain that seemed to pass through his stomach, and he lifted his head to see the long piece of horn cracked off into his body.  The deer licked his face, and tasted the blood on his lips, and then it licked again.   The man noticed that it stank as the pairs breath meshed together in the cold.   It wasn’t just the air that was cold, the man noted that his body began freezing as well, as if something inside of him was ceasing up.
             He was well enough dead before the mighty devil began to devour him.

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