Ten wheels of thunder rolled into the sleepy town on the coast. At the wheel of this jet black forty-ton juggernaut was a slim man with white ghost like hair, he wore all black right down to Black gothic boots, which were smattered with metal apparel. The trucker had been traveling the whole day and had finally made it in time for sundown.
No one saw him arrive, that was the way he liked it. No names, no witnesses no hassle, just do the job and out again onto the next destination, where that was he had no idea. The trucker sat in the cab and looked out to the sea, watching the orange and crimson sun setting on the horizon. before long it was completely dark.
The trucker made his way to the centre of the town. it was very quiet in the town, it usually was on a weeknight. All the shops had long since closed and the only sign of life was a few pub dwellers and a gang of ten young men hanging around on the corner of the street, they were just the people he was there to see.
There had been a large disturbance in the town earlier that week in which a person had been brutally beaten and then hacked with a large cleaver and later died of their injuries. The gang were known for using knives guns and baseball bats and had been causing mayhem in the town for a year now and weren’t planning on stopping any time soon. The trucker was sent by his master to rid the streets of scum like this.
The truck rolled up at the side of the group, the trucker hauled his thin frame out of the cab. In his hand, he held a large axe with a long wooden handle. The gang froze at his presence, they stared at his lean imposing shape their eyes turning to the axe in his hand. Then thud, as the trucker struck the first blow of the axe hitting the largest of the gang on his shoulder, snapping the bones and ligaments as it carved its way deep into the upper torso, then out as quick as it had gone in.
One by one the gang fell about the pavement, crimson flowing in rivers down the drain. After the last gang member had fallen the trucker opened the rear doors of the lorry and slung the bodies into the dark space in the trailer. Something was lurking in the shadow at the back of the trailer. the trucker shut the rear doors of the trailer so the screams could not be heard.
As they were dismembered by the being in the back of the truck, body parts, blood and angry souls intermingled in the dark putrid trailer. The trucker returned to the cab, placing the axe under the seat. He radioed his master. Back through the microphone crackle came an eerie voice telling him his next destination. Satan’s vigilante started the engine on the truck, a small puff of smoke emerged from the exhaust and the juggernaut was gone into the night.
He followed the invisible highways to his next destination. to claim the souls for Satan. Ridding towns of scum that blights them day and night.
©All Rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017
Rhythm of the Ink 