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Last of His Kind: A Story of Rage, Part Two
By Dom Devore
The wastelands had chosen to friendly today, despite their
obvious attempt to keep Rage down the last few days. Rage had been lucky enough
to find a small water hole at the bottom of a cliff, along with some mutated
fruit he had found hanging from a rotten tree along the base of a hill. The new
found nutrients gave life to Rage, even if it was not much for one of his
advanced metabolism.
Rage had been in the wastes for what he thought was four days, but he had no way
to tell, it was often said that the wastes did odd things to a person's mind, as
far as to distort their concept of reality. But he would not be broken.
About twelve miles east of the fruit that he had found, he spotted a small caravan traveling along a near non existing road carved into the dirt floor of the canyon that he was standing on top of.
Rage could smell every aspect of the caravan party, all were human, and all were in need of a bath. Especially the one sitting on the drivers seat of the wagon.
But their was something that grabbed Rage's attention even more than the foul stench of the Caravan master. he could hear what appeared to be the crying of a small female coming from inside of the hooded wagon. Rage decided to investigate.
Rage took off into a run to a lower section of the cliff
that surrounded the canyon, and began to climb down. It took some effort, but he
managed to get down safely, and without grabbing the caravan's attention. Rage
noticed a deep shadow covering a ground inbetween two large boulders against the
cliff face and ran to hunch down inbetween them.
It took some time, but the Caravan finally made it's way past Rage along the
road, without noticing him. There were six guards, four apparently armed with
rifles and the other two with sledgehammers.
The cry of the young female hit Rage, it was an obvious cry for help. But this
time, he heard something else to go along with the girls cry, a man's heavy
breathing.
Rage roared and lept out from the rocks, striking two men down before they even
knew what was happening. The others turned around to the site of a blood soaked
robed figure, two more were down before they could call out an alarm. The
remaining figures raised their weapons and shot, the man with a rifle missed,
the man with the pistol didn't. The bullet hit Rage in the side, ripping apart
the skin on his side. But the pain would not faze him, not when the life of
another was at stake.
Leaping forward at the two men, Rage snapped the neck of the one with the rifle
and quickly snapped the head off of the other, only to hear the click of the
hammer on a firearm.
Rage leapt back from the spot where two twelve guage shells hit the ground.
Looking up, he saw the face of the caravan master, who was now trying to reload
his weapon as quickly as possible. But he never did get a chance, his head was
ripped off of his neck before he got 1 shell in place.
Rage jumped to rthe door to the back of the wagon and toar it off the hinges to
open it, he stepped inside.
A fat grey haired man without any pants was laying face down on the floor. Below
him, Rage could hear the whimpers of the girl he had heard before.
At the sound of the door being savagely torn off of it's hinges, the man jumped
up and turned to see what the noise was. The noise, was death in blood soaked
robes.
"What.... what the hell are you?" he screamed.
Rage did not pay attention to the man, his gaze was fixed upon the young naked
girl that was laying on the floor of the wagon, bruised and bloody.
"And you humans call us animals? You are dead, there is nothing more to be
said." With that, Rage threw his robes off, and into a corner. "I am
what your kind created animal, I am the superior, I am what you will see last as
you die!"
The old man gasped as his last sight was that of an inhuman creature standing
before him, half beast, half man. But the visage did not last long, the creature
ripped out his stomach with one stroke with one of it's claws, the pain did not
last long as the darkness of the end enveloped him.