Driver 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

by G. Michael Hopf

  Hissing and jeers sound from the crowd.

  “I have banished her, she will never be seen again and as for him. The punishment will be the Tree of Justice!”

  The residents rose and cheered. “Kill him, kill him, kill him,” the crowd chanted.

  Kyle leered at the residents he once calls friends and neighbors. How quickly they turned on him. They were nothing more than thoughtless and mindless walking bags of skin who would turn in their own mother if they felt it would benefit themselves and their beloved collective. He was disgusted.

  “Guards take him away,” Barry ordered.

  The guards surrounded Kyle. He thought about resisting but questioned the rationale as he wouldn’t escape. It appeared his destiny had been chosen. They picked him up and dragged him away.

  Barry watched until Kyle disappeared behind the curtain then put his attention back on the crowd. “In two days’ time we shall hold a memorial service for our father then we will commence a procession to his burial spot. I have called for a day of rest across The Collective so that you all may come and pay your respects. With that said, thank you and as my father would say, THE ONE FOR THE MANY…!

  The crowd shouted, “THE MANY FOR THE ONE!”

  Barry waved and exited the stage.

  Cisco greeted him on the side of the stage, “You were amazing and you didn’t use your prepared speech, you’re a natural at this.”

  Full of pride, Barry said, “It was good, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s go celebrate, I wish to go to the Lair. Have my father’s suite prepared.”

  “Very well, but don’t you mean your suite?”

  Barry winked at Cisco and said, “Yes, my suite.”

  The two headed for the exit. An idea came to Barry, “Hold that thought, I want to see Driver Eight put on that tree, take me there,” Barry said.

  ***

  Each time Kyle was loaded and unloaded, he received more beatings. By the time he was dragged from the van and placed in front of the tree of justice, he was bleeding from his mouth, nose and ears and he was so weak he could barely sit up.

  Barry got out of his vehicle and walked over to the barely conscious Kyle. “You look like shit, not so tough now, huh?”

  “Fuck you,” Kyle managed to mutter.

  Barry shook his head while a guard punished Kyle with a kick to the head. “You don’t learn do you?” Barry asked walking past Kyle to the tree, one side of the large oak was void of bark and stained dark with the blood of the many residents who found their punishment there. Large chains hung down from two large branches above and a chain wrapped around the trunk near the base had two iron clamps that went around the victim’s ankles. Barry admired it, “This is truly barbaric but it represents the times we live in. I really have to thank my father’s ingenuity for this.”

  The Tree of Justice stood just outside the main gates along the Eagle River. It served two purposes, one as an instrument to punish and two, as a warning to residents and any passersby, to obey the laws.

  “I guess we should string him up, is that the correct term?” Barry laughed.

  The guards dragged Kyle to the base, a guard each, held up his arms as another lowered the chains from above. When his wrists were secure in the clamps, they pulled him to his feet.

  Kyle groaned with each pull.

  The stopped when his feet were dangling five feet from the ground.

  The guards put on the ankle clamps and just to add to his misery, they attached a thirty pound weight to each ankle chain to stretch Kyle’s body out further.

  Barry walked up and nodded his approval. “Good job. Cisco, add an additional liquor ration for each one of these fine men.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Driver Eight, I hope in these last days you’ll come to see that I was the better man. I had been the one who evolved, you didn’t. I told you numerous times and I’ll say it again, you’re a stupid man. Had you not treated me so poorly who knows, maybe we could have become allies.”

  Kyle looked down and mustered two words, “Fuck you.”

  “There’s nothing more to say. I beat you. You’ll die and your wife will become someone’s whore. Goodbye Driver Eight.” He signaled a guard. “Don’t remove his body. I want him to rot, make him food for the vultures and post a guard, I don’t want someone to take him down.”

  Kyle didn’t have the strength to reply or look up to watch them leave. His thoughts raced to where Portia was and how, like Tiffany, he had let her down. Once more he had failed the woman he loved. No amount of bravado or positive talk was going to get him off this tree, he was a dead man, plain and simple.

  CHAPTER 6

  COLLECTIVE PRIME

  FOUR DAYS LATER

  “Psst, psst!” a voice sounded from behind a grove of shrubs.

  Kyle’s eyes openly slightly. It was nighttime and the only light around came from the gates of Prime several hundred yards away. For all intents and purposes, he was immersed in the black of night. He looked into the blackness that surrounded him and saw nothing. Am I hallucinating? He thought.

  “Psst, Kyle!” the voice boomed.

  Hearing his name, Kyle lifted his head and tried to widen his eyes to get a better look, still he saw no one. This is it? I’m hearing things. My time is almost up. He said to himself.

  “Kyle, are you alive?” the voice said now coming from behind the tree.

  Mustering the energy, Kyle replied, “Are you an angel or the devil?”

  “Both,” the man replied.

  Weakened but now hopeful that someone might free him, Kyle found the strength to again reply, “Who are you?”

  “It’s Tommy.”

  “No, there’s a guard.”

  “I took care of him already. That was easy, lazy bastard was sleeping. Picking these locks, that’s the tough part.”

  “Hurry, get me down.”

  “I am,” Tommy said working on the locks.

  An audible click sounded.

  “Got them, now I’m going to lower you down slowly,” Tommy said.

  Kyle didn’t reply.

  Cautiously, Tommy brought Kyle down to the ground. All that needed to be done was remove the lower ankle clamps.

  The hard ground felt good. Kyle let his body relax.

  “All done,” Tommy said referring to the removal of the ankle clamps. He scooted to Kyle’s side, lifted his head and put a bottle of water to his cracked lips. “Drink slowly.”

  The fresh cool water soothed his parched throat.

  “Bro, I thought you were supposed to be king fish here, good thing I didn’t show up a few days before or I’d be on another tree with ya’.”

  “Portia, they took Portia,” Kyle muttered.

  “Who’s that? Is that your wife?”

  Kyle nodded.

  “Where did they take her?”

  “Slave,” Kyle answered.

  “Fuck me, that could be in any direction. If I knew who their main trading partner was, then we could have an idea exactly where she’s gone too,” Tommy said. He was familiar with the slave trade being a bounty hunter. “Do you know who they trade with?”

  “Republic I think,” Kyle replied solely on the hunch based upon where he found Barry.

  “Hmm, there’s several main players over there, but if you don’t know for sure it could be a wild goose chase. We need to find out exactly who they deal with in each area.”

  “I know who knows,” Kyle grunted.

  “If he’s inside those gates, we’ll need to get you healthy first. Can you stand?”

  “I’ll try,” Kyle said.

  Tommy threw Kyle’s arm over his shoulder and pressed him up.

  On his feet, Kyle tried to stand but his legs were weak and wobbly. “I feel like shit.”

  “Bro, you look like shit and your face is a fucking mess, almost as bad as mine,” Tommy joked and began to head towards his truck parked a mile away off the main highway.

  “Thank
you. You’re a true friend,” Kyle groaned.

  “It’s what friends do,” Tommy said.

  SALINA, UTAH, ROCKY MOUNTAIN REPUBLIC

  The trailer stank of feces, urine, sweat and rotting flesh. It took everything Portia had to not vomit at any moment. The few times they stopped she’d push her way past the other women and leap from the back to get away from it, only to be forced back on when they had to go. Her companions in the trailer were unfamiliar to her but all former residents of The Collective, who had failed health tests. At their first stop days before she counted seventeen women, now there were only sixteen, sometime during the night one of the women had killed herself. Someone she managed to find a piece of glass and instead of using it as a weapon to attack her captures, used it to lay open her wrists. The others cried out that she had died but the truck had a schedule to keep and they didn’t stop but once a day.

  Portia overheard the drivers discussing the trip during the pit stop. It appeared the first destination would be the next stop and so forth.

  The brakes on the trailer engaged and the truck began to slow.

  Portia woke. She sat up and looked around but it was almost impossible to see around the dimly lit trailer. “Are we stopping?”

  “That or we’re slowly to make a turn,” a woman replied.

  “I’m scared,” another woman said.

  “If we fought back, we could overwhelm them,” Portia suggested. This wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned it but no one seemed interested. It’s as if life in The Collective had made them rule following lemmings.

  “Not again. I’m not risking my life,” a woman said from the front.

  “I agree with Nancy, it’s a bad idea,” someone added.

  “Bad idea? Being sold into slavery isn’t worse?” Portia sniped.

  “At least I’ll be alive,” Nancy answered.

  “Is anyone with me? I heard this next stop is where it all begins,” Portia said.

  “What begins?” someone asked.

  “Being sold off begins,” Portia shot back frustrated.

  The brakes kicked on again and the truck shuddered.

  “We’re stopping, this is it,” Portia said looking around. “Is anyone with me?”

  No one spoke up.

  She thought she could fight now or wait for a more opportune time. Not having the support of any of the others, she’d be outmanned and most likely not escape.

  The truck came to a full stop. Seconds later the doors opened allowing the light of day and the fresh air in. Like all the other times, Portia was the first person to jump from the back. She looked around and saw a landscape foreign to her. To her right, a building with the name, THE RUSTY NAIL, sat, its weathered appearance looked like nothing inside the walls of Prime. Ahead of her the road curved to the right and disappeared behind a hill, and to her left was another road and a long field beyond.

  The two drivers milled around helping the women get off the truck.

  She noticed they weren’t looking. Should I run? She thought. This could be her chance to try to get away, but where should she go and more importantly, where was she? She didn’t recognize anything but it’s not like she would anyway. The long field to her left seemed most promising, she took a few steps that way to get a better look. It would be a huge risk to make a run and the chances she’d get far at all were slim.

  “Hey you,” one of the men said.

  Her head snapped back to see the man who went by Earl looking at her. “Yeah,” she replied.

  “Get over here and throw this on,” Earl said tossing a dress at her.

  She looked at the fresh linen dress. The soft cotton and fragrant smell told her it came from someone’s closet but who’s?

  “You don’t fondle it, you wear it,” Earl laughed.

  She looked over her shoulder. The field seemed longer and farther than it had just a minute ago. When she faced back, Nancy was inches from her with a hairbrush.

  “Get that on and hurry up so I can brush you hair,” Nancy said.

  Without being afforded any privacy to change, Portia did a small trick she learned when she was young. She put the dress over her other clothes and once on, slipped out of her other clothes underneath. What she didn’t realize was in her desire to be modest, her locket had snagged on her old clothes and fallen off.

  Nancy noticed it and without uttering a word, quickly bent down, picked it up and slipped into a pocket of the dress she was wearing.

  Portia felt she had won a small victory by not openly undressing. Disgusted by her old clothes she tossed them onto the ground.

  Nancy spun her around and began to run the brush through her hair showing no concern for how hard she was brushing.

  “Ouch!” Portia exclaimed as she pulled away. “You’re pulling my hair out!”

  “Your hair is a rat’s nest. Turn back around so I can finish,” Nancy scolded.

  “No,” Portia said snatching the brush from Nancy. “I’m more than capable of brushing my own hair.”

  ***

  With the woman dressed and looking as best they could considering their situation they were led to the back door in single file line making Portia feel like one of her students headed to the infirmary. All will go in, less will come out.

  “Yummy,” Conrad the lot guard hollered.

  “Ladies come with me,” Candace said waving for them to follow her. She led them inside but instead of going left into the bar area, they took a right and went down a short hallway. A single door sat at the end with the sign, PRIVATE, written on it. “Line up here. I’ll call you in one at a time.”

  The women did as they were told. Portia didn’t want to be the first this time so found a spot near the back.

  One by one the women entered and came out only to get back in line. Some were crying, while others had terrified looks on their faces.

  Portia finally reached the front of the line. Her heart was racing. She didn’t know what lay on the other side of that door but she knew it wasn’t good. When she was nervous she’d fidget and twirl her locket. She reached but the locket wasn’t there. Her heart sank. She looked on the floor and turned around to see if it had fallen off while she was in line.

  “Face forward,” Earl barked.

  “But I lost my…” Portia complained her eyes scanning the dirty wood floor for the chain and locket.

  “I don’t give a shit, face forward,” Earl ordered as he took a few steps towards her.

  Seeing him come, Portia did as he said and faced back towards the door. How could I have lost it? She thought. Her mind began to walk through where she’d been since she last touched it, coming to the conclusion it was either on the truck or in the parking lot.

  The door opened, Candace stuck her head out, “Next.”

  Portia didn’t move.

  “C’mon sweet cheeks, best to get it over with, trust me I’ve been in your spot before,” Candace said sweetly.

  Portia slipped into the room. It was small and smelled stale. In the middle of the room a large wooden desk sat and behind it a large man.

  Candace placed Portia directly in front of the desk and just before letting go, gave her shoulders a slight and encouraging squeeze.

  “Take your dress off,” Frank ordered before taking a bite of a sandwich.

  Portia began to tremble.

  “Do I look like I have all the time in the world? Take off your fucking dress. I won’t buy unless I can see the goods,” Frank barked.

  Candace came up behind Portia and placed her hand gently on her hips, “Let me help you sweetie.” She pulled the dress up and off. Underneath, Portia was only wearing panties.

  Portia used her arms to cover her breasts.

  “Is she fucking serious?” Franks asked Candace.

  “She’s nervous,” Candace snapped back.

  “For Christ’s sake do I have to do everything myself?” Frank got up, came from behind the desk put her arms down by her side and yanked down her panties.

 
; Portia began to shake uncontrollably and tears welled in her eyes.

  Frank took a few steps back and examined her. “Hmm, boobs are bit a saggy and let me see,” he said walking around her until he ended back in front. “How old are you?”

  “I’m, ah, I’m…”

  “Speak up!” Frank yelled.

  “Give the girl a break would you?” Candace said, her tone showing her annoyance with Frank.

  “You just shut it,” Frank snapped at Candace. He put his focus back on Portia and said, “Well.”

  “I’m thirty-one.”

  “You look older. How many men you been with?” Frank asked.

  Portia looked to Candace for support but she wasn’t going to get any.

  “Go ahead, sweetheart, I told ya’ the faster you do this, the faster you’re outta here,” Candace said.

  “One,” Portia answered.

  “No shit!” Frank blurted out.

  “Yes,” Portia said raising her arms and covering her breasts again.

  “Okay, I’ve seen enough, bring in the next,” Frank said walking back around to his chair.

  “Here sweetie,” Candace said helping Portia put her dress back on. Dressed, Candace walked her out and whispered to her, “Believe me, you’re the lucky one. He didn’t sample you.”

  Portia almost threw up upon hearing that.

  “Next!” Candace hollered.

  FOUR MILES NORTH OF COLLECTIVE PRIME

  “The job changed, that’s all you need to know. But can you do me a favor?” Tommy said into his phone.

  “And the food shipment? You know we need that or the Sinoloa’s are going to be pissed,” Jacob, a Leviathan team leader, said.

  “That’s why I’m here, but there’s another reason for my call,” Tommy said.

  “Go ahead,” Jacob said.

  “This isn’t much to ask for from you, but a slave shipment out of The Collective left a few days ago. I need you to track that down.”

  “Can I kill the slavers once I run into them?” Jacob asked.