He could hear them coming up the street, and this time he was determined not to miss it. The profane word that was shouted grated on his ears. Someone must have been walking on the next block down. It wasn't the profanity that bothered Jeremy, but the abrasive desire to disturb the peace. The dark gray extended cab pickup rumbled closer. Somewhere down his street, an confused neighbor was doubtless having an experience that Jeremy was familiar with. He hadn't really been picked on as a child, not like some of his friends had been. Those unfortunate enough to look or act different than the rest were ostracized severely sometimes, but Jeremy had long perfected the art of ignorance, or rather, ignoring. He had been very short until the last year of high school, being the youngest in his class year after year had been a source of pride for him, but also a way of being different than the rest. This was not always a good thing. Anytime someone had to sought to single him out, he just continued not making eye contact and made like he hadn't heard anything but background noise, no more offensive than the bark of a dog or the braying of a jackass. His method had proven most successful, and he had remained unnoticed and unmolested among his peers, preferring the fringes of high school society to find his friends. Here there were no pressures to conform, or not be weird. He had to be allowed to be weird, after all, he was an artist. Still, there was the occasional braying and barking to be ignored. Now, the meek had inherited the confidence of those ill-informed social police. He was not a boy, but a man who had a rucksack full of experience strapped to his tall, broad shoulders. The years had been good, and he had been called to pay forward his debts to the universe for his fortune on more than one occasion. No one ever picked on him now except in friendly fun, and he was the sort to not tolerate cruelty towards others around him.
He calmly walked towards his own blue pickup, parked out front as usual. He made certain his phone was held close enough to illuminate him in the post twilight. Right on cue, the culprit rolled past. 'Last chance to not be an asshole...' Jeremy thought.
"FUCKER!", came to reply to his unspoken sentiment.
He kept walking past the tailgate into the street and snapped a photo of the license plate. He'd been caught off guard the first time it happened, and he remembered feeling that old reflex kick in, never looking up or acknowledging the attempted offense. Then it happened again a week later, and some other time after that. What followed was a sinking feeling about people in generals do loathing of the specific individual. Though the eternal optimist, he had to admit that there were some folks in the world who were just plain mean and wrong. The devils advocate on his shoulder told him that it probably wasn't the young man's fault, just inattentive parenting or a rough childhood. Still a thorn must sometimes be removed, though it grew as nature determined it should.
As Jeremy checked the phone, something unexpected happened. The trucks tail lights blazed, washing the tended lawns in the red light of a slasher film. The flash. They saw the camera flash. The tires protested as the driver slammed on the brakes. Before he could think to move, the reverse lights kicked on and leapt toward him. He winced back into the yard, though the truck pulled straight back the way it had come. The tires chirped this time as the truck rocked to another abrupt halt. The bed of his own pickup stood directly between Jeremy and the sneering man with the shaven head. Jeremy turned away quickly, then walked as casually as he could manage across the yard. He found himself listening for the metallic click of a pistol cocking, like he was an good cop in a bad situation, waiting until absolutely necessary to dodge to the side and draw his own piece. He pretended he was just walking back from running out to the truck to fetch something. The thunk and creak of a car door opening sent a chill down his spine as his illusion was shattered. He stalled as his foot hit the bottom step, and he could feel his muscles clenching and vibrating. He realized that he was biting his tongue, and tried to stop. He turned, and the smug, satisfied look of a bully who knows his prey is scared flipped a switch inside Jeremy. He knew what was behind that look. He'd seen enough children, women, and men teased and tormented to know that for every sadistic prick that ever had a power complex, there were dozens of innocent victims who had suffered at their hands or words. He threw his phone down in the grass where it wasn't likely to be trampled and stepped aggressively forward. The stranger was taken aback for just a moment, but the sneer never left his face. This guy was probably 22, and wore the telltale whites of a man who paints walls for a living. The stubble on his face was in the ugliest part of beard growth. There were thin patches that hadn't caught up with the rest that gave his face an unwashed look. To regain his control, the man smiled. The teeth that remained in his mouth were yellow and black, clearly on the way out as well. That was disturbing.
"Hey!", Jeremy shouted. Not his best work. He tried again.
"Get the fuck off my lawn, you hillbilly asshole."
"Nah." He shook his head slightly and squinted his eyes. "I'm gonna kick your ass first"
"Seriously? I've got you by a hundred pou-"
An iron pipe gleamed in an arc that carried lightning into his skull. There were bright white lights and he couldn't see. He felt flesh tear from his knee as he fell on the concrete walkway and into a world of pain. He'd had an exposed nerve in one of his molars a few years prior during the Fourth of July weekend and he'd been unable to see a dentist for two days. The pain had been excruciating and at one point he had crawled on his hands and knees to the tiled kitchen to bang his head repeatedly against the floor. That pain was less acute than this one. He felt that deep electric pain in his left eye and jaw, and his teeth felt loose. His face lay in the grass that he should have mowed this morning and he sensed more than saw a boot step close to his nose.
"C'mon then, you fucker."
He felt himself being dragged, clearly his assailant didn't mind leaving signs of a struggle. This was a disturbing train of thought and he tried to snap back to reality. The pain was too great and he only barely recognized being hauled up the side and inito the bed of the truck. The gleam of the streetlight shone off the white dome of the mans head as he hauled the pipe down on Jeremy's face one more time. Blackness followed.
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