Image result for wasteland

March 4th, 2018

He spent his first night in the wild in the open, trying to keep his eyes open as much as possible. It was entirely likely that he had a concussion, but it was also a very big possibility that there were predators out here that were just waiting for him to seem too weak to fight them off. Despite his beaten and battered state though he’d seen and heard nothing save for the wind as it had blown across the hardscrabble, chilling him to the bone as he’d shuddered uncontrollably, unable to find anything to warm himself with as he’d stuck his hands deep in his armpits, hoping to survive the night.

There was no fear within him at this point, especially since rage was driving him onward. It was a fire in his gut that almost eclipsed the pain he was in, though not by much. When the sun had crested the horizon behind him the coming warmth had been more welcome than anything he’d been grateful to receive in the past several years. It felt like the light touch of a lover, seeking to rouse him while at the same time congratulating him on staying alive. Were he the type to cry in joy at the prospect he might have done so, but all he could think of was sinking his thumbs into the eyes of the man that had ordered this fate to be foisted upon him.

He wasn’t a good man, that was certain. But he was still allowed to be vengeful when he’d been wronged, of that much he was certain. In his life he’d ruined many a person, taken lives when he’d been ordered, and brought people to those that been condemned to die or suffer for the rest of their natural born lives. But he’d done his job, and he’d done it well. The one job that had finally been his end, or so his former employer hoped, had been the one he’d wanted to do the least.

There was no room in bounty hunting for those with a big heart, no matter what the movies, books, or TV shows said. If you had a heart it made you careless, sloppy, and eventually it got you killed. There were simply too many greenhorns out there trying to make a name for themselves by taking on the tough jobs that no one wanted. They had no problem dusting an older, more experienced bastard like him just to get what they wanted. The only problem with that was the fact that some of the old dogs didn’t appreciate being stepped over, or anyone thinking that they could do so with impunity.

It had been one job that had screwed him, just one. But that was usually how it went in this business.

(to be continued)

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.