Riders on the Storm, the last chapter

Riders on the Storm, the last chapter

In the end my father did the most unexpected thing; he just pulled over.

As he reached past me for his pistol he paused and looked directly at me for the first time in three years.  His hand reached over and softly rested on my own.  It was such an unexpected gesture that I didn’t even flinch.  I just allowed him to hold my hand as his gentle eyes looked into mine.

“Come out with your hands up,” the voice outside echoed, with it came the return of my father’s determination as his hand gripped mine, hard as steel.  His face contorted into a half grin; as if this was the ending he had been planning on the whole time. Grabbing his pistol he lunged at the door, dragging me right behind him.

Bodies lunged at me from all directions, throwing me to the ground, knocking the gun out of my hands. My face was bashed into the gravel as one of them straddled me, his knees on either side of my rib cage, so tight I could hardly breathe.  The taste of asphalt filled my mouth.  My arms were forcefully yanked behind my back as I heard the familiar clink of the handcuffs as they encircled my wrists.

All the bright lights, so many of them now, as my father  smiled wickedly at me as he reached his finger down to taste my tears.

Riders on the Storm, part 3

Riders on the Storm, part 3

Flashing lights finally arrived, but not in the form I expected.  His whistling abruptly stopped as he saw them approaching in the rear view mirror.  His knuckles became white as he eagerly gripped the steering wheel. The moment he knew would be coming had finally arrived.

I saw it was only an ambulance long before he did, if he ever saw at all, all he seemed to see was the lights.

An inhuman rebel yelp echoed through the car as he swerved to hit the source of those lights. The ambulance plunged into the median before flipping on top of itself.  Its fading siren abruptly ceasing as its lights went out.

But, as to be expected, more lights came, the right ones this time.

Riders on the Storm, part 2

Riders on the Storm, part 2

Bizarre whistling snapped me back to attention.  I snuck a sideways glance at him, unable to stand more than that. His frighteningly alert eyes gleamed with crazed glee as he began to pick up the tempo.

When would he just pass out and end both of our misery? He had been driving for eighteen hours straight and most of that had been spent guzzling down whatever alcohol he could get his hands on.

We hadn’t spoken one word to each other the entire drive. Not even the slightest hint as to why, after three years of not hearing from him, he should show up at my pre-calc class, taking out the teacher who had just given me a D minus,  as he held me at gun point.

Not that anything could explain it; just something would have been better than the empty silence.

That was until the whistling began, making me long for the silence again. It was easier to convince yourself you weren’t riding with a lunatic.

Riders on the Storm, part 1

Riders on the Storm, part 1

The towns flashed by as I looked out the passenger window. Unnamable places full of people I would never meet.  Busy with their lives; lost in the details, completely unaware how close they had come to tragedy.

I had resigned myself to the idea of being a statistic, just waiting for my time to be up.  I barely recognized the man seated next to me; whose foot pressed harder and harder on the gas pedal, hoping a cop would pull him over; longing for the standoff.

My life had been reduced to a series of events. The man who had once been my father dragging me out of school; gunshots being fired at a toll booth, children whimpering as their mother bravely stood in front of them, unknowingly blocking my father’s path; never dreaming a trip to the 7-11 would change their lives forever.  He returned to the car with whatever he felt like grabbing; a Twix bar and Cheetos were thrown in my direction.  Only another six pack for him.

That had been yesterday, the gradually lightening sky indicating that somehow I had survived to see another day.

THE KID part 3

THE KID, part 3

Thankfully no one was. Seth sauntered into the boy’s locker room, purposefully waiting until he knew that the coast would be clear.  He had come far too close that day; having his authority questioned.  If THE KID was in there he would be forced to retaliate for all of his statements.

Seth quickly changed by himself, so it wasn’t until he was in his street clothes and headed towards sixth period English that he walked past a mirror.

He stopped short as he instantly realized the reason for the awkward glances, the murmurs. THE KID'S words replayed through his mind: “Your such a phony, I wish people could see who you really are…”

There was no denying it; the person in the mirror was an exact representation of all that Seth had tried so hard to hide over the last two years.

Sweltering boils covered his face and most of his hairless head; unfelt until the moment he saw them, now pulsating in new levels of pain, growing larger with each passing second.  But that wasn’t the part that was engrained in Seth’s mind; it was the frozen sneer on his mouth, as if his nerves had been severed.  And the cold, vacant look in his eyes; his empty eyes.  Eyes that told nothing of the shriek of terror that was bubbling up inside of him

I wish people could see who you really are.