Appearance: 
  
 
Page:   
 Share It:
https://fiction.homepageofthedead.com/forum.pl?readfiction=1047H

The Highwayman
(© George D. LaCroix )

Page 1

Milo had the whole highway to himself tonight.

Which was fine with Milo; to him, it was his trinket, all that beautiful but lonely paint and asphalt, rolling out before him like a red carpet to freedom.

Milo had always had a motto he lived by; You merely decide it's yours, and it IS.  Another one he lived by was; What you see, is what you GET.

He never deviated from these beliefs, either.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins like runaway hell's fire, he leaned on the accelerator. The landscape sped past like a blur. He looked up at the moon, thinking about a time long ago.............

He swerved over into the wrong lane and picked up speed: 50...60....70....80.

I'm my own man, he thought, as the remains of a derelict world sped past his windows. I can drive on the wrong side of the highway if I damn well please.

It's MY highway.

He teased the speed up again, until the ancient Chevy Nova wobbled on it's shocks. The signs, nothing but green and white blurs, were facing the wrong way, but he knew where he was going. Nobody, he thought, I mean NOBODY, knows the wasteland like I do. Besides; I'M the MESSENGER.

You never kill the messenger. Maybe chop off a finger or a toe if he brings bad news, yes, but never, ever, kill the messenger.

He drove on toward Purgatory.

The small town of Purgatory, Texas, used to be a thriving town, until the bomb dropped back in 2013. Now it was a human cesspool of fallout fever induced mutants, and sexual deviants, the latter prone to daily and nightly  sessions of necrophiliac sex with the freshest corpses they could find.

Death was a way of life, meat was abundant and cheap, and the world kept turning.  Besides, folks out here had to make a buck, didn't they?

And so it goes.

He pulled into Purgatory around midnight, the dim lights of the dead town barely flickering as he pulled into the parking lot of the city hall.

The new 10 o'clock curfew, which was strictly enforced by Sheriff Marshal Wilson, and ex-marine drill instructor, had so far been relatively successful, except for the ocassional drunken deviant who'd lost track of time while pounding away at the newest victim of the fever.

Prostitution was only legal with the dead, and only if they weren't more than twelve hours dead. After that, rigor would start to set in, and Wilson considered it rude to be pounding away at someone who was as stiff as a dimestore mannequin. Even the dead had rights, he thought, under those circumstances.

As Milo shut off the engine, Wilson came strolling out of the front door, carrying a bottle of bootleg hooch and two glasses. He and Milo always had a drink or two when Milo came to town. Small town courtesy between two businessmen.

And so it goes.

''Milo, old buddy!'' Wilson said, plopping his big ass down on the steps. ''How's it hangin'?''

Milo cracked a dry grin. ''Same old, same old,'' he said, twirling a finger in the air. ''Just different day.''

''I hear you,'' Wilson agreed, pouring them both a generous shot of Red Rocket bourbon. ''It's been....dead, around here lately. Get it?''

Yeah, I got it, Milo thought, disgustingly. Very funny, Marshal. Ha-ha-ha. You're a regular barrel of laughs, you sick puke fuck of a redneck shitkicker. You're a real riot. I've seen train wrecks funnier than you.

Wilson had always fancied himself a comedian, so Milo just went along with it out of common respect. An asshole, Wilson was, but, he had managed to hold the town together through it all. ''Yeah, I get it,'' Milo said, cracking a crocodile smile. ''That's a good one.''

''Thought you'd like it,'' Wilson said. ''Now, how's business?''

''Kinda slow,'' Milo said, shaking his head, as Wilson handed him his glass. ''It's the heat.'' He sipped his drink, grimaced. Red Rocket was bottom of the barrel booze, but it was free. You didn't turn free drinks or eats down in the wasteland. It was taboo. ''When it's a hundred and twenty in the shade, even the freshest meat starts going bad fast. Those ancient refridgeration trucks they haul them in...they're just too damned old to do the job anymore. That's why I don't make long hauls now.''

[ Continue to page 2 ]

Donate
Help keep this site online by donating and helping to cover its costs.

Information
Genre:Science Fiction
Type:Medium length story
Rating:6.04 / 10
Rated By:30 users
Comments: 3 users
Total Hits:6654

Follow Us
 Join us on Facebook to be notified of updates
 Follow us on Twitter to be notified of updates

Forum Discussion
 The First Omen (film) »
 Deadpool & Wolverine (film) - Deadpool 3 »
 Fallout (Amazon Prime series) - Based ... »
 If/when HPotD finally croaks... »
 The Expendables 4 (film) »
 SRS Cinema (Merged Threads) »
 Shogun (TV series) »
 Boy Kills World (film) trailer... »
 Joker 2: Folie a Deux (trailer)... »
 Maxxxine (trailer)... »
 TWD: "The Ones Who Live" (Rick/Michonn... »
 Parasyte: The Grey (Netflix series) »
 Romero Dead Trilogy and your kids' opi... »
 Spaceman (Netflix film) - Adam Sandler »
 Movie video clip for song »
 Had Rhodes and the boys been inside th... »
 Silo (TV series) »
 "In A Violent Nature" - trailer... »
 the Walking Dead Empires. PC/MAC MMO S... »
 Helldivers 2 (video game) »