Truculence

Aggressiveness; ferocity (n.)

Bernard knew nothing about the man in the back of his limo. The passenger had demanded anonymity before they left, and refused to say anything or answer any questions about himself or their destination. The man said to drive to the end of Interstate 81 and wake him when they got to the junction with 83. Bernard had come to a kind of peace with this assignment until he reached a long, empty stretch of highway between Harrisburg and Wilkes-Barre and four unmarked tractor-trailers surrounded him. It was around 2am. They kept a tight formation around the limo, only leaving a few feet between themselves and Bernard. Then the trucks slowed down gradually, the brake lights on the back of the 18-wheeler in front remaining lit until the caravan came to a full stop.
Bernard watched the anonymous passenger wake up from a nap and peer out the window.
"Why the hell are we stopping?" he asked.
"I don't know sir, I..."said Bernard.
"What the hell are all these trucks?"
"Sir, I really don't know, they just..."
The man, who seemed quick to anger, got out of the car and walked forward to the truck in front. Bernard's highbeams were still on and they flooded the little cavity in front of the limo with white light. He watched as four large men emerged from the spaces between the huge vehicles. It was like the trucks produced them from steel and rubber and gasoline and sent them into the light. They all looked alike, except the one that came from the front truck wore a baseball cap backwards on his head. The three other truckers were broad-shouldered and ferocious-looking men with huge foreheads. Bernard's passenger walked to meet the man with the backwards hat face to face. The three other drivers surrounded him like they had surrounded Bernard with their trucks. The anonymous passenger began yelling and pointing at the man with the hat, lunging toward him, and continued doing so until the man with the backwards hat pulled out what looked like a .45 calibur handgun and shot a round through the passenger's head. The body fell into the waiting arms of one of the other drivers, who immediately dragged it back to his truck. Bernard could hear the scrape of the passenger's business shoes against the pavement. Then the other truck drivers walked back into the canals between their rigs and they drove off into the night leaving Bernard frightened, confused, and alone in the middle of an empty highway.