Faster Than Insanity

The driver’s destination was almost within sight.  At any moment, when the dust clouds parted enough to see the horizon, he was sure that it would be there.  Elation nestled just below the surface awaiting the first sight of the city that would signify the end of all of his struggles.  But just as he thought he saw a distant metallic shine, a loud bang followed by a thud right behind his head rang out and the pickup abruptly halted its forward momentum, roughly slamming him into his harness.

After regaining his composure, the driver turned to find that the pickup truck had been caught like a fish on the end of a line.  A massive anchor and chain pinned down into the bed of the truck.  Within the swirling dust clouds, it was impossible to see from what or where exactly his pickup was now tethered and no matter how heavy his foot slammed the gas, the pickup failed to gain any ground forward; the tires screeched as they spun, unable to grip the dirt road with any sort of meaningfulness.  With each rotation more and more smoke billowed out and poured inside of the cabin.  He continued this futile struggle until he was gasping for air as the sounds of engines began to grow ever closer.

The driver eventually relented and  lowered his head, focusing on his breathing within the rapidly devolving chaos that surrounded the pickup.  His mind sidelined the sounds of the circling vultures and focused on what could be done.  Within this oddly quiet and placid moment, an idea clicked into place, like a perfectly placed puzzle piece that leads to another and another.  A phrase uttered to him days before bounced around within his skull.

Only someone clinically insane would take this job.

Perhaps, that's exactly what he’s been doing wrong.  To fight the crazies, maybe it takes someone willing to embrace the insanity.  With his mind made up, the driver threw it in reverse and spun the wheel, throwing all caution to the wind as the pickup sharply swung into the dense clouds of the unknown.