Mile Marker 327

The day is too hot, and the road is too boring. It’s sucking Foster’s soul dry, but that would mean he had a soul. But he doesn’t, since he threw it in God’s face so many years ago on a day he doesn’t want to remember.

So he stays on a road that depletes whatever zombie shell that’s left over from his long ago grand holy gesture. The road may lead to certain death at day’s end, or worse. But he doesn’t care. He tells himself this all the time, every day knowing that death or worse awaits him, that he might kill or be killed on this path he’s chosen.

But he never leaves the road. He would rather be dead than remember. He’s dead, anyway. Because would God ever want him back, when Foster threw his soul in the Almighty’s face all those years ago?

So starts the premise of Mile Marker 327, on another day that alternates between complete tedium coupled with the undercurrent of violence awaiting the man who calls himself Foster. It’s another day that’s too hot for the calendar to agree, and another violent client awaits Foster at the end of the highway he travels. God forgot about him long ago. He knows that, because there’s nowhere for him to go without the soul he discarded, and isn’t sure if he wants back.

Without his soul, this is the path Foster’s condemned to, with no end in sight except for perhaps the mercy of a bullet or some other tragedy.

Or is it?