They found Ryan’s head on the side of the road, with his black Ford Dully’s door wide open like a gaping scream, its lights and blinkers still flashing. His large, muscular body was found nearby. They said he was a hit-and-run victim.
The night shift at the United States Post Office in the 1970s drew misfits, the dysfunctional, and just plain weirdos. Ryan had a muscular build, jet-black hair, crazy eyes, and a square jaw, with only three fingers on each hand from a war injury. He had been kicked out of the police force for excessive violence and suffered from PTSD. Almost every week, there were incidents or stories of someone snapping and “going postal,” either at work or at home. Heavy alcohol and drug use, and even sex scandals, were common. The health room had to be permanently closed because it was being used for extramarital affairs. Even with Big Brother watching from above, incidents still occurred.
Ryan managed to pick a fight with David, also ex-military, with wild, disheveled hair and a long, straggly beard, who was not wound too tightly. They took it to the backroom, and work screeched to a halt as the crowd gathered around them. The Postal Inspectors intervened and escorted them both off the workroom floor. Everyone returned to work like the automatons they were, as if nothing had happened.
They found Ryan’s head on the side of the road and said he was a hit-and-run victim.
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