Driver 8

by G. Michael Hopf

  Kyle cocked his head and said, “That’s him. When did you see them?”

  “Came in a few days ago.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “Go? Honey, they’re still here,” she exclaimed pointing towards the green door.

  Kyle snapped his head around and looked. “They’re back there?”

  She rubbed his arm and said, “Sweetheart, they’ve been knee deep in pussy since they came. Especially the fat one.”

  Kyle shook his head in disgust.

  “Want me to take you back there?” she asked.

  Kyle thought but declined. The idea of seeing grown men with young girls made him nauseous.

  “Who are they? Important people I presume? Are they dangerous” she asked.

  Ignoring her question, he said, “Go get the tall one, tell him someone is here to see him.”

  “Will do,” she said and headed off, she stopped and turned. “If he asks, who do I say is here?”

  “Tell him, Driver Eight is here.”

  ***

  Kyle radioed The Collective to inform them he had found Number Two and Driver Ten safe and that there was something sensitive that needs to be addressed upon their return. The dispatch asked what it was but Kyle kept it to himself only informing the dispatch to tell Number One that his son was found.

  Back inside, Kyle waited for Number Two while he sat down to discuss the entire situation with

  Driver Ten. The sounds of the bar and the brothel reverberated through the thin walls adding a contextual layer that felt dirty. Kyle had much to say to Driver Ten but all he could do at first was shake his head at the abhorrent behavior of a Collective driver.

  The silence between the two was loud with Driver Ten unable to even look at Kyle, his head lowered in shame.

  “We have a code?” Kyle reminded him.

  Driver Ten lifted his head and locked his gaze with Kyle’s. “But in my defense, we’re not in The Collective, the code doesn’t count here.”

  “Just shut up,” Kyle snapped knowing Driver Ten was partaking in sexual acts with children as Candace came right out and said so. It required all of Kyle’s discipline to not shoot him right there

  In The Collective, child enslavement and prostitution was outlawed, even in the unincorporated areas around The Collective, The Number One frowned on it and had his drivers pass sentence whenever they encountered it.

  “Listen, it wasn’t my idea,” Ten pleaded.

  Kyle leaned on the table and said, “I can understand that Two ordered you to come here, but he didn’t make you do what you did once you got here. That’s on you.”

  “But it was only one,” Two said. His sad defense falling on deaf ears.

  “I’ll deal with you later. What I need from you now is to go get Two. Time to take him back home.”

  “Sure, but, um, I’m not sure if he’ll come,” Two said.

  Kyle looked at Candace who was standing across the room but in earshot.

  She returned the look and said, “You want me to go get him?”

  “Do you mind?” Kyle asked.

  Candace exited the room.

  “Please understand,” Ten pleaded.

  Kyle rose his hand gesturing for Ten to be quiet.

  “C’mon, what happens out of The Collective, stays out of the…”

  “Do you not understand the meaning of shut up?” Kyle barked.

  The door opened and in came Number Two, a shit eating grin stretched across his chubby face exposing his yellowish teeth. He had more wealth than ninety-nine percent and access to dental products but still his laziness showed through his lack of dental hygiene. He laughed like a giddy child as Candace lured him there saying there was a special treat inside for him. “You guys know how to treat your guests.” He looked around but only saw Kyle and Ten sitting at a small table in the far corner. “What’s this?” he asked Candace surprised.

  She didn’t reply, instead she stepped inside the room and closed the door.

  “I asked you, what’s this?” Number Two seethed at her.

  “Number Two, I’m Driver Eight, I was sent here to get you. Now go get your things, we leave in ten minutes,” Kyle ordered.

  “I know who you are but I don’t take orders from you, or anyone,” Two snarled.

  Kyle stood and walked over to Two, stopping inches from him.

  Even without touching him, Number Two could physically feel Kyle’s presence, but he wasn’t going to allow a driver to intimidate him. “Back off.”

  “Barry, listen, you don’t want to mess with Driver Eight,” Ten warned.

  “I don’t care who the fuck he is, I’m second in line to rule over The Collective,” Two said.

  “How many times do I have to ask?” Kyle asked.

  Two tried to stand tall, but his short five-foot five stature seemed small next to Kyle towering at six-foot three. He sucked in his belly, broadened his shoulders and snapped, “Back…the…fuck…off!”

  “Listen, Barry, I’m under orders from your father to come find you and bring you back. Now, he didn’t give me specifics so I suppose I could hog tie you, stuff you in the back of my truck and haul you back or you can go get your shit, and come with me. Your choice, one is hog tie, two…”

  “Go with two,” Ten shouted.

  Barry tried to hold his stare against Kyle but couldn’t, he looked away towards Ten and said, “Fuck this.” He turned around swiftly, his portly belly juggling and headed for the door.

  “Can I assume that means you’re going to get your shit?” Kyle asked. He normally would have treated someone like Barry with respect but couldn’t find the discipline to do so after knowing the kind of man he was. “I’m just trying to figure out how I’m going to explain all this to your father.”

  Barry turned back and barked, “I spoke to my father yesterday, he knows I’m here. So fuck off.” He threw open the door and marched off.

  Candace winked at Kyle. “I’ll go help him,” she said and sauntered off.

  Kyle turned around and said, “Go get your stuff. We leave in ten minutes.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ten said jumping to his feet.

  As Ten passed him, Kyle said, “I want you to know that when we get back. I’ll be holding you accountable for this behavior.”

  Ten nodded and rushed out.

  Kyle couldn’t be more disgusted than he was now. How long had Barry been doing this? Was this the reason he’d run off before? Did Number One know and was harboring a pedophile and grooming him to take over? So many questions but right now his first priority was getting Barry back home safely then find out the answers to these questions.

  COLLECTIVE PRIME

  Portia was amazed by the grandeur of the executive mansion. Its tall ceilings, coffered with crown molding were impressive and beautiful. The travertine flooring with lush thick rugs gave the place a feeling of elegance. This ‘home’ wasn’t like anything in The Collective but who could complain? This was the home of the Number One, the founder and leader.

  A guard escorted her up a long and gently winding staircase then down a long hallway to a double set of tall doors. The guard knocked.

  “Come in,” Number One called out.

  The guard turned the nob and pushed the thick alder door open. “Go ahead in.”

  Portia stepped into the massive room. The guard promptly closed the door leaving her standing there. She quickly looked around and discovered the room was a bedroom. A strong uneasy feeling came over her. Not wishing to put into an awkward position she spun around and grabbed the door knob.

  “No, please, don’t go,” Number One said walking into the room.

  Portia stopped trying to turn the knob and like a church mouse, slowly turned to face him.

  Number One was wearing the same green turtleneck sweater and blue jeans. “Please, come, sit down,” he said pointing to a large ever suede couch.

  “I, um, I don’t think this is appropriate,” she said standing her ground.

  “Why,
because you’re in the front room of my master suite. I’m only asking you to take a seat here, I didn’t say go lay on my bed in the other room.”

  “But still, this is highly unusual,” she said, her arms folded tightly in front of her.

  “My dear, Portia, do you mind if I call you that?”

  Unsure how to answer, she answered safely, “Call me Teacher Seven.”

  “Nonsense, your birth name is fine. There’s no law against it, we just prefer that people call themselves by their Collective occupation, but we understand people will want to use their birth names in private and around friends.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Just a chat, a private chat over lunch, so please come, sit down, let me pour you a drink. What do you like?”

  “I don’t need a drink. I’m sorry, but have I done something wrong?”

  “On the contrary, you’re an exceptional resident and member of The Collective. Hence, why I recognized you earlier. You know something, I remember when I first met you. Do you remember that day?” he asked walking towards her since she wasn’t going to come towards him.

  “Yes.”

  “You were an orphan, your parents had been traveling, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.”

  He closed in until he was just a few feet away. “And you came to the police station because your babysitter left you alone after she had heard about the initial attacks.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And I sat down next to you at the police station. I too lost someone that day, my wife, yes, I was married before my other wife you knew. She was in Denver giving a lecture. Oh, and get this, her lecture was on HOW THE DETERRENCE OF MUTUALLY ASSURED DESTRUCTION WAS AND STILL IS A SOUND FOREIGN POLICY . I’m not shitting you, can you believe it? Of all the lectures, she dies by a nuclear weapon. She’s literally giving a lecture on the benefits of mass proliferation and boom, gets nuked. Crazy. Like it was fate or something. Now here I am, alone. I’ve lost two wives and I have no one. Yes, I have my son and Bravo One, she’s nice but I don’t have anyone that I can have a real connection with. But you know, it’s okay, I have The Collective.”

  “Sir, why am I here?” Porta asked nervously.

  Ignoring her question he kept reliving that day. “I saw you sitting there and knew right then that I had to do something. There was so many helpless children like you were. What were you, twelve?” He asked still focused on the day they first met nineteen years before.

  She nodded.

  “I just knew my purpose was just beginning. And lo and behold, here we are, so many years later standing next to each other again. You married to the most notorious driver The Collective has had and me, a recent widower, but fulfilled with my life as the leader of this great society.”

  She had met him before but never under these circumstances. Even though she never spent much time close to him, something seemed off about his appearance and she couldn’t put a finger on. His skin was pale and dark circles traced the skin under his eyes. He didn’t look well, but maybe he was just an overweight and unexercised older man.

  “You are still happily married aren’t you?” he laughed.

  “Yes, very,” she answered thinking the question out of left field.

  “I can see you’re upset, so I’ll just get to the point of why I wanted to talk to you in private.”

  Thank God. Portia thought.

  “When was the last time you talked to your husband?”

  The question made her nervous for Kyle’s safety. “Three or so days ago. Why, is something wrong? Has something happened to him?”

  “Oh no, no. He’s fine. I was just curious if he talked to you recently,” Number One said.

  “No, like I said I spoke to him days ago. He relayed a radio transmission through the network like he normally does. All he told me was he going on a new mission which was going to extend his return by a week or so.”

  “Nothing about what or who this new mission was?” Number One pried.

  “No, nothing, exactly like I told you.”

  Number One stared hard at her. A long and very uncomfortable pause elapsed before he spoke. “Very well.” He turned away from her and headed towards his bedroom.

  “Is that it?” she asked.

  He stopped and turned. “Yes, that’s it. By the way, thank you for coming by and being so…honest.”

  “Of course.”

  “And tomorrow, make sure the children are ready for the testing. It’s imperative we get ahead of new virus. Nasty stuff. Goodbye, Portia,” he said before turning and disappearing into the bedroom.

  Portia exited the room as fast she could and rushed out of the house. When the front door closed behind her, she exhaled heavily and began to cry. She hated feeling such fear. She hated feeling so powerless. She hated him beyond words could describe.

  SALINA, UTAH, ROCKY MOUNTAIN REPUBLIC

  Kyle wasn’t going to leave the Nail without Barry by his side. So when Barry didn’t show up after ten minutes, Kyle marched down the hall of the brothel to the room Candace said he was in and without knocking, kicked the door in.

  Inside Barry was putting the last of his things into a back pack. “What the hell?”

  “You’re late. Hurry up.”

  “I don’t know who you think you are but this is bullshit.”

  “Like I said, your father sent me here. I was just doing my job scavenging in The Wastes when I got the call to come find you. I take my job as a driver serious and when Number One asks me to do something personal for him, I do it. Now, hurry up.”

  “Give me a few more minutes.”

  Kyle leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms.

  Barry glanced back and barked, “Don’t stand here and watch.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  “My father will punish you for your disrespect, you watch,” Barry threatened as he stuffed the bag with the last of his clothes.

  “I’m not worried, now put on your shirt and let’s go.”

  “Where’s Sal?” Barry asked referring to Driver Ten.

  “Ten is in the parking lot waiting on us. We’re all going back together.”

  Barry put on his shirt and smirked, “Sal is a freak, a straight up freak.”

  Knowing what that meant, Kyle became irritated. “Driver Ten will face consequences when he returns to The Collective, trust me and you, well, I’m not sure what your father will do.”

  Barry laughed and quipped, “You’re clueless, man.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Throwing his pack over his shoulder and without answering Kyle’s question, Barry laughed then walked out of the room.

  ***

  “What do you mean he’s gone?” Kyle barked.

  “He’s gone, simple. He got into his rig and tore out of here,” Conrad said.

  “What direction?”

  “North.”

  Kyle grunted and walked off towards his truck.

  Barry was at the truck laughing. “That motherfucker took off, classic.”

  “Driver Eight, Driver Eight!” Candace called out from across the parking lot.

  Kyle turned to find her running towards him.

  “Here, take this, please,” she said handing him a thick envelope.

  “What’s this?”

  “Some money I’ve had stashed.”

  “Why are you giving this to me?”

  “You’re a gun for hire, right?”

  “No, I’m a driver for The Collective.”

  “But I’ve heard you drivers are like vigilantes or mercenaries. I don’t know the correct word, sorry, no education.”

  He handed the envelope back and said, “I’m not sure who you think I am but I’m not a gun for hire.”

  “Please, take it. Just come back and free us, especially the kids. I could see it in your eyes. You’re a different kind of man. I saw the rage building in you, you know this is wrong and you want to stop it.”

>   He stepped back from her. “I’m not a gun for hire and this is none of my business.”

  “But your friend in there, the guy with the burned face. He came back, I talked to him, he said he knew you from before the war, he told me all about you. That you two were partners. He said you were some sort of hero cop. Please, come back and save us from this. We’re all slaves, there’s nothing we can do. The little kids, they’re brought in from…” Candace said before being interrupted.

  “My friend Tommy can help you, he’s Leviathan, this sort of stuff is what they do,” Kyle said.

  “He’s gone now, if I had known I would have given it to him,” she said, her voice stressed.

  “Candy! Get your ass in here now!” Frank hollered from the back door.

  “I have to go or he’ll take it out on my little boy. Please, come back for us. I know you know this is wrong. Save us,” she said walking away.

  Kids? He thought. Needing to know, he called out, “What did you say about the kids?”

  Frank marched over to her and grabbed her roughly by the arm and spun her around. “You shut you fat mouth, bitch!”

  “What about the kids?” Kyle hollered again.

  Candace gave him one last look before being dragged back inside the bar.

  Confused and conflicted, Kyle was tempted to go rescue her right then and there but his mission was leaning against his truck whistling. Knowing he was outgunned and outmanned, he went to his truck and said, “Get in.”

  “I think she likes you,” Barry joked.

  “Shut up,” Kyle said tossing his stuff in the back.

  CHAPTER 3

  COLLECTIVE PRIME

  Portia Grant loved her role in The Collective. She still remembered rejoicing the day she received the slot for teacher. It was a rewarding position but like others, it had its unique pitfalls and today was one of them.

  Unable to think clearly after the events yesterday, she had the kids recite the tenets of The Collective until the hour came for them to go get tested.