Destruction Road

Chapter 1

Destruction Road, A Novelette | © Dan Absalonson 2016

Will thought he had shot them all. Through his scope, he scanned a horizon of crumbled buildings. All seemed quiet. Then, from behind the remains of a house, he found another soldier wandering through the rubble. He steadied his aim, then fired.

"Yeah, headshot!" Will said through pursed lips, holding a cigarette which bobbed between them. It was always like this on the weekend. His dad used his paycheck to bring home a bunch of smokes, then he went to the bar until it closed; or he got kicked out. Will loved it when his dad was gone; it was the only time he stayed home anymore. After Mom died, Dad had started drinking a lot more. There were complications with the pregnancy, and neither baby nor mom made it. Will was supposed to have a little brother, but now all he had was a mean drunk of a dad. Will was getting pretty tired of wearing sleeves to hide the bruises. Over the winter it was no problem; but now summer was approaching. Something had to be done.

The sound of his dad's old Ford truck pulling into the driveway stole away Will's peace.

"What the? Dad should still be at the bar!" Will said.

He got up, put out his cigarette, and ran to his bedroom. He threw on an old pair of jeans and a paint shirt, his customary lawn mowing apparel, and ran to the back door. Before he could reach the doorknob, his dad came in through the front.

"Boy!"

"Oh, hey Dad. I was just about to go out back and start mowing the,"

"I come home, and what do I get? A walk through mangy grass! I gave you one thing to do today! What have you been doing all day, playing them video games?"

His dad took a few sniffs of the clouded air.

"And smokin' my cigarettes again! I think you need to learn a lesson boy!"

"No dad, I was just on my way out."

Will turned the door handle, but it wouldn't twist. Why was the back door always locked, and from the inside? His controlling father had the only key. No one could get in through the back either. The fence stood at eight feet over their dry yellowed lawn. It was built of solid wood; so there was no way to climb it like a chain link fence. The gate on the side of the house was padlocked. Will did have a key to that, but that wasn't going to help him now. He swore under his breath, knowing what was about to happen. How could his dad have gotten so drunk that he was kicked out of his regular bar before noon even hit? His dad closed the front door behind him, and stumbled into the living room.

"What's it gonna take for you to start listening?" he said.

This wasn't fair. His dad never came home before dark on a Saturday. He was going to mow the lawn, but why do it first thing in the morning when you knew your dad would be out till dark? If their living room wasn't so small, he might have been able to get around his dad. Will was sick of cowering and begging to be left alone, and he knew it didn't work, so he thought of something else. His dad had gone too far, invading Will's only time to himself at home. He was sick of finding another place to be during the week. He was sick of hiding the bruises. He was sick of explaining away the ones on his face. So before his dad could cross the room and get a hold of him, Will bent down and lifted the coffee table. Old magazines, crushed beer cans, and unwashed dishes crashed to the floor; followed by the huge overflowing ashtray. A gray cloud rose above the mess as the ashes spilled onto the stain speckled carpet.

"What are you doing boy? You must really want a lesson! You're too weak to take a swing at me with that thing, so what are you planning to do?"

Will didn't have plans to take a swing at his dad with the coffee table, and for now the amusement of it kept his dad at a safe distance. With shaking arms he raised it above his head, turned away from his father, and smashed it down onto the door knob. It broke off and hit the ground with a metallic bounce. Will kicked the door open, leaving the table in the doorway to slow his father. As he sprinted for the back fence his eyes found what would be his way of escape.

Will had screwed an old piece of wood onto the fence a few feet off the ground for an occasion just like this. He sprinted for it, hearing his dad fall over the coffee table behind him. As he came near he leapt up, planted his foot, and pushed off. He grabbed the top of the fence and pulled himself up as the momentum lifted him away from the ground. Even with the push, it took everything he had to get his waist up to the top. He swung one leg over, then the other, until he was hanging from the other side.

He dropped down and fell onto his back, knocking the wind out of him. Once he caught his breath he laughed at his father, kicking the fence and swearing on the other side. He laid there for a while, soaking up his victory. Then he got up, and sat with his back against the fence. As he panted he pulled a crumpled cigarette and a lighter from his pocket, then lit up. His dad started listing off what he would do to him to make him learn his place. The more Will heard, the stronger his resolve became that it was time.

He had been trying, really trying, to stick it out until he finished his senior year. He'd been told that a high school diploma was better than a G.E.D., but this was the last straw. He was going to get out of here, and soon. Not just move out, but skip town and never come back. He wanted to go somewhere where his dad could never find him. He got tired of listening to his old man, and his smoke was out, so he got up and started walking to the nearest gas station.

Will drank the last of his energy drink and put his ear against the front door of his dad's house. Hearing nothing he cracked the door. His dad was sprawled out on the couch, his buzz-saw snore assuring Will he had a little time. He went into his room and filled a couple duffel bags with clothes, cigarettes and shoes. The zipper snagged on the overstuffed worn out bag.

"Perfect."

Will looped his arm in the handles and snuck out the front door, his dad still snoring. He made it outside and threw the bag into the bed of the truck. As he reached for the driver's side door, he heard the creak of the front door. His old man stood slack jawed in the doorway. Will jumped inside and slammed the door; locking it with his left hand while his right turned the key. It turned over just as his father's fist slammed against the glass. He popped it in reverse, dragging his father's feet across the gravel before he let go. Then Will took off down the road.

Will was trying to be cool but he felt like he was going to cry, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. His father deserved no tears. At a stoplight he opened the glove box to see if his old man had anything to help take the edge off. A little liquid courage might do the trick. Sure enough there was a silver flask, lying right next to a handgun. He never knew his dad had a gun.

What would he need one for? Will thought.

He picked it up and checked to see if it was loaded. It was. He slid it back, grabbing the flask next to it and closing up the glove box. He drove for a while, and then turned off onto a small side road. He continued to drive until there were no buildings or cars in sight. Pulling over, he unscrewed the cap and took a whiff. A strong whiskey smell floated up into his nostrils. He took a quick sip and forced it down before his taste buds could revolt. He waited for his gut to calm down and then threw back a few more. It wasn't helping, but he didn't think his stomach could take another drop, so he screwed the cap back on and slid it next to the gun inside the glove box. He flipped a u-turn and got back onto the main road.

Just before he merged onto the freeway, a minivan cut him off and forcing him to slam on his brakes. She's flipping me off?

"That's it."

Without thinking, Will opened the glove box, grabbed the gun, and stepped on the gas. He rolled down the passenger side window and accelerated next to the minivan. Before he could even get a clear look at the driver, he unloaded the magazine through their window. The driver fell onto the steering wheel and the van took a sharp turn to the right. It slammed into the guardrail, sending the van into a spiral over and over again across the onramp. Will put it all in his rear view mirror and just kept driving.

It had taken everything inside of him to not retaliate back at his dad all these years. Now the act of leaving all that behind him released something in Will. Someone had to pay for the way his dad had treated him; for what his last few years had become. This person had cut him off, and then flipped him off several times.

"I've had enough of people treating me like garbage."