T/W: Strong violence, blood.

****

Rafferty Greer hated his life. As he loaded the last of the provisions into his old, crappy delivery truck, he realized  why. Actually there were several reasons why. The first reason was because of this horrible, frigid weather. Rafferty despised the cold weather. If there was anything worse than cold weather, he couldn’t think what it was. The second reason he hated his life was because he’d been blackmailed by the local militia to do their dirty work. And while he admitted it; he’d done some terrible things in his life.

But he’d done what he had to survive. What anyone would have done to survive. Rafferty hefted the last box into his truck, reaching for the sliding door, slamming it down with a resounding thud and locking it. He rubbed his cold, red chapped hands together, blowing his hot breath on them in a feeble attempt to get the blood circulating. He dug the truck keys out of his jeans pocket, yanked the driver’s side door open, climbed in, started up the truck and headed for the capital.

***
Rafferty drove for two hours straight before finally deciding to take a pit stop. He pulled into a truck stop, parking as close to the exit as he could. He exited the warm truck and out into the bitter cold, the wind bitibg at hus exposed skin. He yanked his cap down lower on his head, hoping that would help some.

He kept his gaze focused on the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. It wasn't safe. Rafferty had learned that the hard way. As he made his way into the gross men’s restroom, trying to only breathe through his mouth. It would have been more sanitary to pee outside than inside this crap hole. Rafferty hurried as quickly as he could. He didn’t bother to wash his hands in the restroom, but instead pulled out a small bottle of hand sanitizer from his coat pocket, applying a generous amount to his hands before returning the bottle to his coat pocket.

He stopped in front of the vending machines, trying to decide if he really  wanted anything to eat or drink. He finally decided on diet coke and a couple of Snicker’s bars. As he headed back to the truck, he continued to contemplate all the reasons of why he hated his life. It wasn’t just the cold weather or the fact that he’d been forced to work for the enemy. It was everything.

He had no real home of his own, no real job, no-family. Or anyone who really gave a shit about..him. Rafferty climbed inside the truck, angrily slamming the door shut. He tossed the candy bars down into the passengers seat and went to pop the tab of the diet coke. The second he did, pop fizzed up out of the can, spilling over into Rafferty’s lap. He swore and moved to snatch up an old, greasy rag lying on the truck’s floor. Rafferty mopped up the sticky liquid the best he could. He then downed a large gulp, hoping the caffeine might improve his mood.

Who am I kidding? Rafferty thought to himself. I need some friggin' whiskey.

He angrily slammed the pop can down into the drink holder, causing more of the sticky, dark liquid to slosh over. Rafferty cursed louder, striking the window next to him. Pain surged through his hand, causing his eyes to smart with tears. He roared the curse word louder, but it didn’t do a bit of good. Rafferty hunched over the steering wheel, all sorts of awful thoughts running through his mind. Rafferty finally just sighed loudly, started up the truck and headed out of the truck stop.

***

Darkness had fallen. Rafferty still had a good five hours to go to before he reached the capital. He decided he may as well pull over in a parking lot somewhere. He desperately needed some rest. That stupid pop hadn’t done jack crap for him. Rafferty spotted a large parking lot for a warehouse. He drove in, parked off to the side and cut the engine and just sat there for a few minutes. Luckily it wasn’t as cold here as it had been where he’d just come from. It was warm enough in the truck for now.

Rafferty moved and pulled a thick, wool blanket out from under the passengers seat, unfolding it and draped it over himself. He decided that perhaps he’d best take a leak before he got too comfortable. He hadn’t relieved himself since he’d stopped at the rest stop, and that had been a while ago. Rafferty climbed out of the truck, walking aways away from the truck, unbuttoned his jeans and took a long piss.

Yanking his jeans back up,  he gazed up at the night sky. There wasn’t another soul in sight. It made Rafferty feel terribly-lonely. He wasn’t sure why. He preferred solitude. He didn’t enjoy the feeling of being penned in anywhere. He despised large, crowded areas. He couldn’t breathe around too many people. He sighed softly, running a hand over his weathered face. He wondered if he’d ever find a place to call home. Or if he’d be forever roaming, destined to be alone until he died. Rafferty just sighed again, heading for his truck to try and get some rest.

***
Dawn was just breaking as Rafferty awoke. He yawned, stretched and tossed the blanket aside. He needed to relieve himself again. It was freezing outside so Rafferty didn’t tarry. He got back into the truck, starting it up, blasting the heat, trying to warm up. Once it was to his liking,  Rafferty headed out, already wishing his task was completed.
 
***
A few more hours had passed and Rafferty was so consumed by his thoughts he didn’t notice the black truck following so closely behind him. The truck’s horn blast brought him back to reality. He glanced in the delivery truck’s side view mirror, scowling.

"Impatient, huh?” he muttered under his breath. He hoped whoever it was would eventually pass. They didn’t. Rafferty was picking up serious red flags from this person. He tried to keep his head. Losing it would not be in his best interest.

Suddenly the black truck surged ahead, driving alongside Rafferty. He flipped the man behind the wheel, the finger, scowling. The driver, a big, beefy balding man, just grinned at Rafferty, revealing many missing teeth. The way he grinned at him, it made Rafferty’s skin crawl. The driver gunned the truck’s engine, pulling ahead of Rafferty. The driver abruptly slammed on the brakes, causing  Rafferty to stomp on his brakes.

Rafferty swore. What was going on here? He was getting some seriously bad vibes from this whole thing. Rafferty blasted his horn, but the black truck didn’t budge. Rafferty, muttering curses under his breath, begin backing up. Bam! He had rammed straight into another vehicle. Rafferty threw his truck into park, flung open the door and climbed out.

"What the hell is the hold up?” he shouted, marching straight over to the black truck. The big, beefy man slowly opened his door, holding a-gun. Right at-Rafferty.

"We’ll be relieving you of your shipment, friend,” he growled. Rafferty held his hands up, slowly backing away, fear prickling his gut.

"I’m under strict orders to deliver these provisions to the capital,” Rafferty snapped.

"Is that so?” The big man growled, grinning wickedly.  "Whose orders, pretty boy?”

"The papers are in my truck,” Rafferty replied evenly.

"That doesn’t tell me anything!” The beefy man growled. Rafferty sighed wearily.

"Let me get the papers. I’ll show you I’m telling you the truth.” The beefy man pointed the gun straight at Rafferty’s...head. Strangely, his earlier fear was dissolving. He thought there must be something wrong with him to not feel fear.

"I don’t care if you are telling me the truth, pretty boy! We’ll be taking over this shipment.” The beefy man was insistent.

Rafferty scowled. "You’re making a serious mistake, mister!”

"Oh, yeah? And what are you gonna do to  stop me?” The beefy man taunted.

"I don’t suppose there is much I can do about it,” Rafferty replied. “But if this particular shipment doesn’t reach the capital, the local militia of Cannan will end tracking you down.” The beefy man roared with laughter.

"You think I’m worried about the law, pretty boy?” He pointed the barrel of the gun right into Rafferty’s chest, a finger on the trigger, itching to pull it.

"Go ahead, beef brain,” Rafferty heard himself saying. The beefy man just laughed again.

"I don’t need to kill you to get what I want from YOU. Boys!” Rafferty was immediately seized by two other big brutes. He struggled mightily against them, but it didn’t help.

"This shipment is considered confiscated by the local militia of Eden!” The beef man growled.

"No!” Rafferty shouted, still struggling against the men who held him. “You’re making a serious mistake!”

"The only mistake I made was keeping you conscious longer than I should have.” The men pulled Rafferty over to the side of the road and proceeded to beat him. He curled into a ball, trying to prevent them from damaging too many internal organs. They punched him in the gut, the face and kicked him in the back. They continued on until their leader told them to stop. By now, Rafferty was bleeding from his nose, mouth, the top of his head and his ears. His back, legs and arms all throbbed with unseen bruises that would form later on. Rafferty groaned loudly, struggling to roll over onto his back. The beef man shouted something to him, but Rafferty couldn’t tell WHAT. He felt the darkness slipping over as he slowly fell into a deep unconsciousness.