driven

The road stretched out endlessly in front of him, black and slick like a snake that twisted and turned where it pleased. For Rennie Cray, the road was his only place of solitude, especially in the dead of night. While most people were curled up in their warm safe beds, Rennie prowled the highways, searching.

But for what? Justice, revenge, peace?

Those three words had blurred together in the past five years, becoming a mixture of unidentifiable feelings.

Just what would he do if and when he finally found the crazed man named Fargo? The police didn’t suspect him at all of murder. And Rennie had already crippled the man. What more could he take from the killer who’d mercilessly run down his wife?

Rennie gripped the steering wheel harder and shifted to pick up speed. The road disappeared beneath his tires, until he felt as though he were flying. Warm night air hit his face through the open window, and he breathed it in.

Sometimes, he could still swear he smelled his wife’s perfume.

He shifted again. The car jerked and went even faster. The scent stayed with him along the quiet stretch of road, and he realized why he was out here in the first place.

So no one else would have to be.

~end