Rudy Can't Fail

         Rudy tensed, watching the distant lights grow steadily larger. Despite his determination, despite the rage which fuelled him, he swallowed nervously whenever he thought of the task before him. Bowing his head, he prayed rapidly for resolve -- for the courage not to bolt, as so many did in the same situation. He didn't understand why these attacks kept working -- surely the enemy should have noticed the pattern by now -- but when the courage of the attacker did not fail, neither did the attack.

         The roar of the metal beast grew even more menacing; the vibrations of its approach rippled across his skin. What he would do this night was more than right -- it was holy work. The greatest of their theo-mathematicians had calculated the relative worth of each strike made in retribution -- Rudy couldn't follow the complexities of the math himself, but he knew in his gut that they were correct. A just creator couldn't expect people to ignore attacks, assaults, and insults forever.

         Rudy had been told, and believed, that even if he were to die in tonight's attempt, any degree of victory over the oppressive beasts would guarantee him a place in Heaven's fields. But better, by far, to live! To live in the joyful knowledge that he had struck back against those who slew his family, against those who pillaged his land -- this is what he prayed for daily. Lord, he repeated silently, spare me that I may strike again. Let my target pull aside and be wrecked in the ditch, not against my body. Spare me for another attack -- or if it be not Thy will, then let me die in the knowledge that I have succeeded. Let me destroy at least one of these beasts, Lord, let me see my enemy burn in the wreckage of his mechanical monster! Then I can die content.

         The lights were much closer now, the roar almost overwhelming. Rudy's muscles were quivering with readiness; it took discipline to stand there, still, acting as if he hadn't noticed his approach. An irreverent part of his mind wondered how anyone could believe he was unaware -- the metal beast was certainly loud enough to hear for leagues. He kept his eyes down to keep them from catching the light; no need to warn the driver before it was time to strike.

         Just behind him, there was a deep ditch. It would be easy to jump the ditch and run through the fields, to run until he was nowhere near his death -- but to do so would be to mark himself a coward, one unwilling to fight for his people, and Rudy would not let himself fail this night. On the other side of the road loomed a high wall -- no escape there.

         As the roar of the approaching beast took his breath away, Rudy stepped into the centre of the road and stood still, raising his head to stare down his death. Lord, he prayed, bless me and the work I do for you--

         He never finished his prayer. The logging truck was moving at full speed at impact; as the metal plowed into his sturdy body and the grill bent around his form, Rudy's scream was lost in the sound of grinding metal. The truck spun out of control when it hit him and crashed into the wall on the far side of the road; its load spilled out, landing atop Rudy's broken body and smearing his leaking blood still further.

         The driver of the destroyed truck pulled himself out of the wreckage, relatively unhurt, and walked a good distance away before calling for help. Rudy's body was already cooling, the light was fleeing from his eyes, and the flies were already gathering on his triumphant corpse. "Boss? It's Mike. I've got some bad news -- my truck's totaled; I'm going to need some help out there. Don't talk like that, Boss. It's not my fault. It was one of those goddamn deer...."