The Angriest Man in the Wasteland

When the world ended it was not the sound of bombs or gunfire that people remembered. It was not the words of politicians or martyrs. The only thing people remembered was the screaming. Because after civilization ended and the ruin's of mankind's greatest feats were left to rot all anyone ever did was scream.

That night, as the cold wind laced through the rotten shack in which he lay, it carried with it a familiar sound. A shrill cry that chilled his bones more than the cold wind of Maine at night. It was a woman's cry. She screamed as loud as she could begging for help.

Samuel Clark lay wrapped in his blanket in the shack, listening to the woman scream. The unfortunate soul must have run into the pack of raiders he had spotted a few hours before sunset. That meant there were at least six of them, well armed but desperate none the less. Everyone was desperate now.

She continued to scream, her piercing cry wrenching his heart. It was almost possible to tell the course of events just from her voice. Were they attacking her just to take what she had, to collar her and sell her as a slave or were they succumbing to lust and raping the woman. From the repeated screams of "stop" Samuel could only imagine it being the latter. Besides enslavement the only way her tragedy was ending was if someone helped her or the raiders bashed her skull open.

Anger rose in him. Samuel slipped a hand out from under his blanket and pulled close his backpack, on it's side hung a revolver, his only gun. Spilling open the side pocket three bullets fell out, the last of what he had for his journey South. Plus the six in his revolver meant he only had nine bullets plus a rusty long knife to fight six individuals.

The odds were against him. Outgunned and outnumbered left his decision to act wavering. Even if he got the drop on them, even if every bullet hit, every hit a kill who is to say with all the raiders weaponry they even have bullets. What if he went through all that effort and find between all of them none of them had a bullet, it's happened before. That would leave Samuel desperately lacking on his important journey South.

What if things went down horribly, even if he killed them all what if they had bullets? What if he was wounded? Wounds take time to heal, if they don't he'll die. Medicine was a valuable commodity and the skill to use it more so. There was no one like that around, not in two days time. These were risks he could not take. His own journey was too important. The woman had to fend for her own.

Samuel pushed away his backpack making sure to keep the revolver side to him, always have a weapon in arms reach and if it's a gun, always keep it loaded. He wrapped himself back up in his blanket and turned so that he stared through the gaps in the wood planks towards the sound.

She continued to scream through the night and Samuel didn't sleep until a single gunshot cut her crying voice short. When the world was finally silent that's when he heard them, far afield, their laughter was weak but sent shivers down his spine. They were laughing. The sick men who raped and tortured her were laughing as they did it. Samuel closed his eyes feeling them wet with tears, face red and hot with anger. Eventually sleep took him and his dreams lead him away from reality.

The next morning fog had rolled across the area, the sun barely awake as it peaked over the horizon Samuel was quick wake up. It had only been a few hours of rest but it would make all the difference come noon. He was desperate to get there but not inexperienced enough to arrive tired as a dog barely able to stand straight.

He woke early for one other reason. He walked through the burnt out forest, a small underbrush of new saplings finally striving for life slapping his thighs, Samuel fell upon the scene he could only imagine.

Two corpses lay in the dirt. A man and a woman. The man couldn't have been older than twenty five, born just before the world ended, old enough to remember the world before but not to enjoy it's comforts. His skull had been bashed in spilling his brain across a flat stone. What unsettled him most of all was that he was faced towards the woman, as if he was made to watch. Samuel wondered why he hadn't heard the man the night before. Sweeping his index and middle finger blindly in the man's mouth he pulled out a rag.

'They gagged you...' Samuel glanced towards the woman. 'They made you watch as they raped her.'

Samuel approached the woman sweeping away her blonde hair to reveal startling blue eyes that would make any man fall over in love. Were it not for the pool of blood underneath her head she would have almost appeared to be resting. But then there was the back of her skull, missing, blown away by the bullet that ended her life. What a terrible end. She appeared no younger than twenty-two

Her clothes were ripped to shreds. Deep bruise lines lined her body were they had been violently torn away. Whatever dress she had been wearing was already in tatters before the violence.

'You were very beautiful.' Samuel commented sweeping the hair further back away from her neck to reveal thick scar tissue wrapped around it. 'You were a slave.'

Curiosity grew and he worked his way down to her feet inspecting them closely. Deep and fresh lacerations cut into the soles of her feet. It wasn't uncommon for people to be barefoot, that just meant you had to be extra careful where you stepped.

'You didn't have the luxury. Did you?' He looked up at her then at the man. He hadn't noticed it before but the man was dressed in thick leathers a common form of protection if not impractical to a bullet. Then he understood the signs almost as well as if he'd spoken to them.

'Thick leather. The way they made him watch.' He looked at the woman. 'You were running away together. A raider and a slaver girl in love.'

Samuel approached the young woman and closed her eyes doing the same to the man.

'You took your chances. And your luck ran out. I'm sorry.' Samuel sighed straightening his shirt readjusting his backpack questioning his decision to not act. But what's done is done.

Samuel scratched his graying beard. 'There was a time where I would bury the two of you, but that time is long gone. I have somewhere to be now. I didn't know either of you but you tried to return some innocence to this fucked world so I'll give you some parting words. Rest well, the both of you. Love each other wherever you are. Your struggle is over now.'

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The noon sun clung to the gray sky, hanging there drunk above the ruins of what was once a proud town. At one point in time it had a name, a populace, but all that's left of that were three random letters on a rotting wood sign and a thousand shallow graves.

The revolver bucked in his hand, it's hot gas escaping, piercing barking ring dancing down the halls of whatever building they had occupied. The raider in his hand, gripped at the neck, convulsed and slumped to the ground, his skull blown wide open, staining the blackened walls red.

A collective cry of alarm rose in the building as his friends came to investigate the sound. None of them knew Samuel was there, perhaps in their arrogance they never once considered that someone would dare attack them. They never met someone like Samuel Clark.

One of the first to take the corner stood in disbelief at the sight of his friend, laying slump against a counter, eyes glossed over, what's left of his scrambled brain leaking out of his skull. That same raider's eyes grew wide in terror when he noticed Samuel level his revolver at him, then again it bucked. A white hot glow extended from the barrel ejecting a solid slug of lead that bored through the bridge of the man's nose and exited out the back spraying the room in fragments of skull and spurts of blood.

Then they all knew. They were under attack.

Samuel didn't hear him come down the stairs but a misplaced shotgun blast was all he needed for warning. Buckshot peppered the wall, tearing away wood and paint it left holes as big as his fist in the framework. Had the raider only taken an extra second to insure the target was in his sight Samuel would have been blown clean open. But now he knew where the raider was.

The fool advanced on him attempting to take swift vengeance for his fallen friends. What he didn't know was that Samuel had snuck around the opposite corner, pulled back the hammer and given an open shot took out the raider's ankle sending him flailing to the ground in pain. He was quick to capitalize rushing the man before he could recover his wits. Samuel drew his knife and drove it through the man's left eye killing him instantly.

Gunfire filled the room as bullets zipped overhead. The remaining raiders had arrived downstairs armed with automatic rifles that tore the room to shreds. Only by chance did Samuel not get hit but it was a chance he wasn't going to waste. Grabbing the dead raider's shotgun he slipped behind a shredded couch peeked over the edge on the advancing raiders and without regard of the risk unloaded his revolver into two of them. Though one crumpled, dead, the other suffered a minor flesh wound that only enhanced his motivation to end Samuel's life.

The remaining two turned and pulled the trigger until neither had any ammunition left in their magazines. Thankfully for Samuel he was much better at keeping track of his resources. Emptying his revolver and loading his final three bullets he prepared for what could be his last battle. To his joy he was happy to see two shells remained in the shotgun.

With one deep breath as he heard their magazine's hit the floor Samuel turned away from the couch, revolver in his holster, shotgun nestled up against his shoulder and cheek. He found the first raider in his sight and pulled the trigger. Buckshot spread across the man's chest killing him instantly.

The final raider, the one Samuel had wounded was quick to respond. Rather than try to reload he dropped his gun and pulled a pistol he had tucked behind his belt. In Samuel's haste he pulled the trigger too early destroying a cabinet behind the man but it was enough to throw off his aim letting the bullets flying harmlessly to his right. Just as the raider, Samuel dropped his gun, drew his revolver and fired two rounds at the reeling man. He dropped.

The world grew silent again until a familiar scream ruined the silence. Samuel rounded the shredded furniture spotting a trail of blood extending down the hall. Carefully he followed, his last bullet ready and willing to fire. Into the darkness of the house he went following the trail until he spotted it's end.

The raider had crawled away in pain, his screams now a pained whimper as he turned the handle of the basement door. It opened revealing an infinite black but before the wounded man could disappear into it's depths Samuel drove his boot into the small of the man's back pinning him just so that his arms and head dangled over the first step. In one swift motion he bent down, put the barrel against the back of his head and fired.

The raider's head jerked as the bullet flew through his spine and out his mouth. Shattered teeth clattered to the wooden step, a trail of blood pooling down at each step, cascading over to the next until it found the basement's cement floor.

Another moment of silence took the house. Behind the thin veil of quiet he heard a small, pitiful voice crying. Samuel's heart dropped for it was the voice of a child somewhere in the darkness of the basement. Swallowing hard he disappeared into it's depths.

When next he emerged, the child in his arms he made his way for the exit as quickly as he could.

'It's alright, Daddy's got you. Daddy's here.' He spoke to the child, his heart filled with fear, terror, excitement, joy, more emotions than he knew to handle.

But when the light of the noon sun poking through the back door finally swept over them he saw in his arms he held a little girl. His run slowed to a walk. He left the building feeling the hot sun creep across his skin matching the fury and disappoint boiling in his heart.

Though he held so many questions as he stared at the frail young girl in his arms none of them came out. Her eyes remained closed, the rise and fall of her tiny chest barely noticeable, it was as if she didn't even notice she'd been freed from the monsters that chained her.

He stood in the sun, putting his mouth to her ear asking if she can hear him.

Meekly she nodded, eyes opening up just enough to take him in.

'Papa?' She said weakly, her soft voice tearing his heart to pieces.

She was not his child. She wasn't supposed to be there. Countless dead at his hands, how long he'd been searching all for this one moment, to find someone that wasn't his son. He should have felt angry at that but he couldn't. Staring down at her he smiled.

'I'm here. I'm here, baby.' He pet her matted dirty hair noticing the specks of dried blood.

'You came for me, Papa.'

'Shh-shh.' He pulled out his canteen giving her some water but the girl's arms had thinned so much she could barely move them so he fed her like he had his own son when he was a baby. 'Rest, baby. Rest. Papa's here. I'm here. Just save your strength. Everything's going to be okay.'

'Everything's okay when Papa's here.' The girl pressed her head against his chest, blue eyes staring at the sky. 'It's so beautiful.'

Samuel felt his heart in his knees. Tears began to crawl down his dirty cheeks. He sat down with the girl in his arms, rocking her back and forth as she stared at the sky. Humming her a nursery tune that he couldn't remember the words to but would never forget the song he peacefully stroked her hair.

'Papa's here, Baby. Papa's here.'

She buried her head even more into his chest, 'I love you, Papa.'

Samuel's heart skipped a beat and he did all he could to stop himself from breaking out into tears.

'I love you too, Baby.' He said to her as she died in his arms, her frail body simply unable to continue.

Samuel Clark sat for a moment remembering the pain of his own loss and how miserable he felt that he was unable to save the little girl. He asked himself how things might have turned out had he been faster. But the answer was always the same. She was better off wherever she was now.

When finally he had finished her grave and the little girl was at rest his pain and empathy disappeared and anger took over. Staring out at the ruined world his jaw clenched in fury, clenched fists shaking he swore someone would pay for all the wrong in this world. Someone took his family from him and they would pay for it even if it meant burning the world down to do it.

But first; someone had some explaining to do.