Page 21 of Ravaged From Fate

The forest next to me looks mightily tempting right now.

They could have weapons. They could have guns…

“Hey, boy,” Sword Face yells at me from the driver’s seat through his open window. “All alone, are you? What a lovely coincidence.”

“You talking to me?” I ask, standing my ground. If this truly is the end – and I go down in a spray of bullets – then I’m going facing it down like a man.

“Yeah, you. Fuck, it’s nice bumping into you out here. No little woman to save you now, right?”

“I remember not needing her help,” I reply calmly. “Four of you were on the floor, if I remember rightly.”

Sword Face growls and mutters something indecipherable to his fellow thugs.

“Well, now’s the time for payback,” he announces.

Here we go…

“Get out of the car and face me like an adult,” I retort back.

“You’re dead.”

As the tattooed leader opens his door, a random truck comes up the road. We all watch it as it slows down to a stop not twenty yards from us.

I don’t know who to face. Who is the bigger threat to me? The gang in their car or this random pickup truck?

Who is this guy?

The door to the truck opens and out steps the driver. A man presumably in his late sixties. Grey-haired, but still with great posture and wide shoulders. He’s wearing a flannel shirt. He wouldn’t stand out in a crowd, and I don’t know who the hell he is. I’ve never seen him before.

“Back off,” he snarls at the gang leader who’s half-in and half-out of his own vehicle.

The thugs seem to recognize the man. They don’t do anything but gawk at him. He clearly has some kind of tough reputation, I’d say.

Sword Face grimaces, but then slowly gets back into his driver’s seat with a final warning to me.

“Our business isn’t over, boy.”

I glare at their car until they’ve pulled away and disappeared around the bend.

“What was going down between you all?” the man from the truck asks me in a gruff voice. “A little spat?”

“Nothing,” I tell him, eager to be on my way. I don’t want to be involved in any of this. I just want to go back home.

The old man seems to accept my answer as definite. He nods solemnly and bounces back into his truck with a groan.

“You want a lift?” he asks me.

“I’m fine,” I say, trying to be polite. A lift with this man surely means questions from him. He seems like a smart man. I don’t want to give him any clues into my past, and I certainly don’t want to start lying to a man who’s obviously seen some bullshit in his time. Getting in his truck only means trouble.

“I’m not one to give out free advice, especially to a man like you who seems to know how to handle himself,” the man says. “But if you’ve somehow got on the bad side of those guys, then I would say you’re in deeper trouble than you think. They didn’t hurt you today because of me.”

“Why didn’t they?”

“They know me. They have some kind of grudging respect for me because I’ve helped them out once or twice with… issues they’ve had.”

“Okay,” I reply, really not wanting to get into a conversation with this stranger. Whatever the hell just happened doesn’t interest me. I just need to get back into East Springs. On my way. Without someone questioning who I am and what I’ve done in the past. “Thanks for saving my ass.”

“Last offer for that ride back into town.”