Soft Murmur
Bill, ever the observer, muttered softly to himself, his voice barely audible in the stillness. “Who’d have thought?” he said, as though surprised by the turn of events unfolding before us. His words seemed to reflect the realization that even the most seasoned among us hadn’t seen this coming. Rick, who had been standing off to the side, edged closer, sensing that something monumental was happening. His curiosity was palpable, and I could see the gears in his mind turning as he tried to process what we were witnessing.
It was clear that the legend of Mad Dog McClain was more than just a rumor, more than just a name—it was an identity that commanded respect, and the trucker had just brought it to life. The crowd, once uncertain, now seemed to hold their collective breath, waiting for the trucker’s next move. The anticipation was so thick it felt like it could be cut with a knife. Whatever came next would change the dynamic completely.
