Justified

Brent was walking south, or what he hoped was more or less south, for several hours, heading a long narrow and unmarked road through the woods somewhere in, he imagined, southern Wisconsin. Several roaring jeeps came down the road towards him at one point, headlights were blinding, and he ducked and hid himself behind the trees until they had passed. The night mist hung at waist level. The cars were black.

Brent stopped and waved at every cab that were approaching, whether the light on top was off or on, every cab drove past him. One of them even purposely accelerated as it passed. One of the wheels dived into mud-filled pothole, spurting disturbing, freezing water over Brent’s pants and jacket. At one time, he thought about putting himself in front of one of the chasing cars and get himself killed; a short cut that could easily end up his misery life. However, he thought about his devoted wife who might still be wide-awake waiting for his arrival. He started to shiver as the cold crisp wind started to etch his vertebrae. He shook away all the thoughts of giving up. His hand withdrew a small metallic flask from his drench wet jacket. He took a sip of what appeared to be his last gulp of whiskey just to keep him warm for another one hour. It was bitter and somehow his head felt heavy.

An old battered cab finally drew up. Brent pulled himself together and stared blankly at the vehicle.

“Hey, big boy! Wanna have a ride? It’s freezing damn cold out there.”

Brent got in and the cab seemed to sink with the additional weight. The backseat was filthy and patched with grey duct tape. The Plexiglas divider was covered with grime and he can hardly see the face of the cab driver.

“Where do you wanna go, miboy?”

“Anywhere but here.”

The cab driver grunted and drove the cab silently across the night. Brent tried to force himself to sleep. He will pay the cab driver handsomely once they reach Illinois. He was frazzled. Despite the tiredness, his stomach grumbled and demand for food.

“Sorry. That’s coming from me.”

He could see the unshaven cab driver casting a light smile on his lips. Dark chestnut muffler draped around his neck. He was wearing thick sunglasses. One of the lenses was badly scratched. It was already three in the morning and the moon was nowhere to be seen. Brent wondered if the man had a problem with his eyes. Concentrated smell of musk choked him as the cab driver offered him a cold cheeseburger.

“Thanks but I can’t see any McDonald’s around.”

“That was for my dinner. It’s already freezing dead but it tastes great like any cheeseburger should be.”

Brent had to agree. Cheeseburger was his favourite ever since he was a boy. He thought about the last time he had his cheeseburger. He liked his cheeseburger to be stuffed with additional lettuce and onions. He remembered how the hot melting cheese dripped and sizzled, giving an extraordinary effect to the beef patty. He can feel himself drooling. That was years ago when he was a free man.

As the cab driver drove him out from Wisconsin, the cab suddenly slowed down and pulled over.

“Why are we stopping?”

Brent gave a knock on the Plexiglas divider but there was no response. Hesitantly, he reached the cab driver’s shoulder and touched him. The man’s head jerked up and he pressed on the gas paddle and the cab lurched forward. They were on the road again.

“You must be very tired.”

“I must be. I have been driving this junk for 28 hours without stopping. I only had a short nap this afternoon. 20 minutes.”

“I hope you’ve made a lot of money”

“I doubt it.”

The cab driver yawned; revealing glistening yellow light among his molars. He scratched his chin. Brent could feel that his eyes were trailing him. The cab driver made a turn. Brent wondered how he was able to drive between the mist and pitch-black night, and the thick sunglasses.

The cab driver swayed in his seat. His chin began to descend to his chest for some times. He started to snore. Brent was frustrated. He reached out once again and shook the man. As he shook the man, the sunglasses felt onto the man’s lap. The cab driver opened his eyes and reached out for his fallen sunglasses but it was too late. Brent had seen his eyes.

There was no eye. In fact it was hollow and Brent could see dark tunnel like a black hole that he once saw on the telly. He gasped and tried to scream.

“What are you? A potential killer? I should have realised that you were scheming something”

“Your worst nightmare, Brent Connor.”

Brent's face went pale. His nervousness drained his blood. He tried to escape from the vehicle but all the doors were locked. His lungs failed him as the vehicle seemed to shrink, making it completely impossible for him to escape. Brent tried to recall the voice. It was familiar. It was him! Sweat started to pour down.

“Help!!!!!”

He could feel his legs sinking into the metal scrap. The windows shattered into thousand pieces and pierced every part of Brent’s exposed body. He wailed and hoped for a miracle. He never believed in God but tonight he found himself crying and prayed for his life.

A heavy truck made a discordant blare of horns. Brent screamed as the truck collided with the already crumpling cab. The truck driver thought he had hit something big like a desert animal’s carcass. He studied his rear mirror and searched for anything unusual but there was nothing, only a piece of metallic object; possibly someone’s flask.

“You killed me ten years ago. You removed my eyes and threw my body into purgatory. I’ve been craving for your blood. It’s now paid...”

The night was silent again.

P/S: I still feel that I need to find my own identity because this one really sounds like one of Neil Gaiman's.