5 Minute Freewrite: Monday - Prompt:Texas

It didn’t have to end badly. The youngster said. All Nikolai had to do, was step out of the truck, and walk back to his Goddamned Texas.

“It’s not safe,” he tried to reason, “I have been lucky to make it this far.”

But the red head wouldn’t have any of it. “And this is safe?” he asked Nikolai, sarcastically pointing the riffle at him,
“You decide, Niggar! Texas or the bullet.”

Sweat gleamed on Nikolai’s brow. What was he to do? The boy, no older than his own son, was obviously inexperienced. That doubled the risk of the rifle going off accidentally.

But returning to Texas was out of the questions. He had barely escaped the rebels. Granted, the emancipation was declared. The president had made sure of that.

Millions of his kind held in rebellious areas, were now free, the emancipation decreed. But it had only made matters worse. It had refueled the civil war.

He had escaped with his master’s truck, and had on his laps a ready loaded rifle, already pointed to the door side where the oblivious youngster stood. He only needed to pull the trigger.

He weighed his options, peeping through the rear mirror to see how many of them there were. He was able to count five. The rest were younger. This one was obviously their leader.

“What is your name? “He finally asked.

“What for?” the youngster asked, “Just step out and walk away. Nobody gets hurt”.

“I have a son,” he said, starting to free his seat belt to show he was setting to step out as ordered, “just like you.”

“I am white, Niggar,” the boy retorted, “And your son is black, and a beast, just like you!” he said, wiping his own brow. The youngster was obviously uncomfortable. Nikolai could tell he had touched a nerve.

There was something about the youngster that didn’t look right. He now noticed the scar lines on his neck side that the youngster had made attempt to conceal with the bandana.

“They whipped you too,” he now said. The youngster’s surprise was obvious; Nikola thought he saw his eyes mist.

“Just get off the track, please,” the youngster now said, almost pleadingly, throwing a glance sideways, “Please!”

Nikolai glanced at his side mirror.

“C’mon in son,” he now said, lowing his voce, and glancing to the sdie the boy kept peepin at, to show he had noticed his fear, “They don’t have to hurt you again. Come with me. I am white at heart, and they are black at heart!” He said.

Just then a rough looking man, clad in an over-sized jacket and hat, stepped forward, wielding an AK-47.

Nikolai raised his riffle.