by Frank Redman
A huge lighted sign out by the highway stated TRUCK CITY.
I’ve driven by here a few times, but never stopped. Computer geeks and truck drivers typically don’t mingle. Truck City is about twenty miles outside of town, and no doubt named by a student from the same creative writing class as the ones who named Fort City and Buy City.
I made sure I wasn’t going to be road kill, then crossed the lanes to the truck stop store / diner / gift shop / game arcade / motel / auto parts store / transvestite hangout.
That last bit I told myself hoping not to stick out too much.
A robust gentleman wearing a Harley Davidson leather jacket—I didn’t know they made big rigs—opened the door just as I approached and held it open for me.
I let out a high pitched “Thanks” keeping my head down and looked for the men’s, I mean women’s bathroom. I also looked for bad guys. Not seeing bad guys or bathrooms, I walked the perimeter of the huge market-like interior of the superstructure.
I spotted Hostess apple pies and salivated. A rude voice in my head said “Don’t buy anything.”
Sacrifices.
I located the bathroom sign some five hundred yards away, well, maybe one hundred and fifty, and covered my face with the paper towel as I got near and entered.
There were several stalls, a few showers—thankfully unoccupied—and a row of sinks below mirrors. Disposable napkin dispensers adorned the walls. I couldn’t help it, I bought one.
The bathroom was clean with baby blue slate tiles on the walls and floor, nickel fixtures, and most importantly, not crowded. There were a few cautious glances from other customers, surely wondering why I held a paper towel to my face, but no one said anything. I selected a stall, did my thing sitting down, and left. No drama.
I took a different route to the truck, ducked under a trailer, and knocked once on the passenger door.
The door opened and I clambered in, fake boobs and all.
Charles said, “Any problems?”
“None.”
“Anyone pay any attention to you?”
“Not that I noticed.”
“Good. Jenny, your turn.”
Jenny left.
I washed my hands using the small sink in the sleeper cab.
A few minutes later, Jenny returned. She was faster than me.
She said, “Beat you.”
“Didn’t know it was a race.”
She gave me a perceptive smile.
Charles stood and clapped his hands once. “All righty, time for me to skedaddle.”
I said, “You’re leaving?” I really didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing, but the scale tipped toward bad.
“I know my actions have messed with your brains. I’m sorry. Ray will explain everything. The enemy will be wondering why their men haven’t checked in. I was supposed to be handing y’all over.”
I said, “How did—”
He put up a hand to stop me. “No time, Ray will tell you. Y’all have to get out of here. So do I.” He stood, nodded at me, looked at Jenny, “Ma’am,” and stooped to pat Tyler. “Thanks, Tyler. I’m gonna get me a dog. Take care of them, boy.”
Before anyone could say anything else, he was gone.
Ray pressed a button to clear the windows, put the idling rig in gear, and moved out of the parking space to hit the road.
We were pulling a trailer, so I said, “Are we hauling anything?”
“No, we’re deadhead right now so we can make good time. I’ll catch a load on the way back.”
“Deadhead?”
“Means the trailer is empty. You two get comfortable. My place is yours. If you’re hungry, there’s some canned food in the pantry, and more food in the fridge. You see the microwave.”
Now that we were on the highway, I had a mad urge to strip. Jenny helped me take off the bra.
Ray’s truck was fascinating. The dark blue curtain partitioning the main space from the front end of the cab was held open by a blue felt rope, like you see in old time movie theaters, only not red. Incandescent xenon lights circled the living quarters of the cab. The place was pristine. The sink was on the other side of the curtain behind the passenger seat, with a mirror above the sink and a microwave above that.
Everything was in blues and greys. Cabinets below the sink, above the microwave and elsewhere were covered in a padded grey leather and blue trim. A pantry and a large pullout fridge drawer were stationed behind the driver’s seat. There were two beds along the back wall, similar to bunk beds, with the upper bed folding into the wall when not in use.
Circular windows, or more like portholes, were at the end of each bed. An LED HD flat panel TV covered part of one wall. The opposite wall had more cabinets and drawers for storage. The cab was modern with no wasted space, yet did not feel cramped.
A table rose hydraulically from a cutout in the floor behind the passenger’s seat. That chair could be turned 180° to face the table and someone sitting opposite on the bed.
I really liked this truck.
I looked at Jenny who was also taking everything in. “What do you think?”
She said, “It’s nice. I’m surprised. Efficient use of space.”
I’m not sure why it mattered, but I was pleased she liked it. I wasn’t hungry, but I looked at the food options in the pantry. “Hostess apple pies!”
Ray said, “Help yourself! In fact, help me with one too.”
I got a couple of crackers for Tyler, who lazed at the foot of the lower bed, grabbed a pie for Ray and myself and climbed into the passenger’s seat.
Jenny stretched out on the lower bed, but I’m sure she could hear us talking.
I said to Ray, “Okay, please tell me what’s going on.”
He chuckled. “No problem, brother. Now, you’re going to get mad, but hear me out, all right?”
“Yes.”
“You two were sedated for two days.”
“Two days!”
Jenny repeated, no longer lying down, “Two days!”
“Well, two and a half days, really.”
I threw my arms up. “Why would he do that?”
“That’s what I’m trying to get to if you’ll let me.” He chuckled. “I told you you were going to get mad.”
Obviously Ray had a way that just put people at ease.
But I tried to remain angry. “Go on.”
“When Charles found you, he didn’t know you from Adam. But after hearing your story, he took you in. He said none of his internal alarms alerted him. But he’s one paranoid cat, so he sedated you two anyway. That gave him enough time to go through the car and your stuff. He may not look like much, but I’ve never known anyone smarter than C-Man. Brilliant investigator, strategist.”
Ray paused to let that sink in, then continued. “What he found jived with what you told him, so then he sedated you longer with shots.”
Now that Ray mentioned that, I noticed my right arm by the shoulder had been itching. I turned to see Jenny; she was looking at her arms trying to find a mark.
Jenny said, “He gave us shots to knock us out? For real?”
I just shook my head. I didn’t know what to say any more. This was all just too weird.
Ray said, “Yes, for real.”
Ray drove in silence for a while. I assumed to let us get over our anger.
The rain had stopped. Trees whipped by as we motored down the highway. I expected the interior of an eighteen-wheeler to be a lot louder, but realized we didn’t have to raise our voices to be heard.
Ray continued, “While you were out the next day, C-Man found two bad guys looking at your car in the woods. Actually, his security system alerted him of a perimeter breach.”
“Perimeter way out there?”
“Way out there.”
“I thought I was paranoid.”
Ray chuckled. “Well the enemy asked him if he knew who was in the car and where they went. C-Man said he could tell they were desperate, could see it in their eyes and mannerism
s, not just their words. He told them he could find you two, that you tore up his woods and he’d be happy to deliver you, but that he didn’t have any wheels. That was true too, his truck’s in the shop.” He said to Jenny, “You sure you don’t want anything to eat? There’s plenty to drink too.”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
I looked at Tyler; he napped on the bed. Evidently the story didn’t captivate him.
Ray said, “The bad guys tried to get C-Man to just take them to you two. But he refused, saying he didn’t want his property messed up any more than it already was. He’d deliver you the next day. All they had to do was leave a vehicle. He said they balked at first, but C-Man can be pretty persuasive.
“He knew there’d be a GPS transponder planted on the truck, so they didn’t have to worry about anything happening to it. He also knew the truck would be set up for audio and video as well. He told me that’s why he tried to keep y’all from talking.”
Jenny said, “That’s also why he fired the gun.”
I looked at her and nodded.
I said, “We thought he’d gone nuts. Even Tyler wanted to tear into him.”
Ray chuckled. “He had to make you think that. Otherwise the enemy would know it was a ruse. They knew where you were. They found you. When they realized you had slipped away, they circled back. It’s not hard to find a car-sized hole through the brush in daylight when you’re looking for it. C-Man knew he could not get you guys out of there safely. So he hoped if he sold you out, he’d have a way to get you away from the house and make them lose you again. That’s real easy to do at a place like Truck City. They’ll know that we left from there, but as I’m sure you noticed, there were a lot of potential trucks to get into, and all going to different places. That’s where yours truly comes in. Your guardian angel.” His smile lit up the cab.
Jenny said, “So Charles killed the two bad guys who came to pick us up?” It was more of a statement than a question.
I said, “He used a silencer, that’s why we didn’t hear any gunshots over the outside noise.”
Ray said, “You got it. Two down. But there will be more. And now they will be mad.”
Chapter Seventeen
1:00 AM. I knew I wouldn’t be able to go to sleep after being out for two days, but I needed to try and get back to a normal schedule. We paused at a rest stop so all of us could go to the bathroom, including Tyler. Then got back on the road.
I didn’t know where we were going. I didn’t ask. That’s crazy, I know. But I just didn’t want to know yet. It would only make it that much harder to sleep, thinking about new cities, new places.
I climbed into the top bed.
Jenny curled into the lower.
Tyler rested at Jenny’s feet.
Ray had some Johnny Coltrane going, his head bobbing to the music and swaying to the road, simultaneously.
By my bed, small desk fan hung upside down from the ceiling in a corner. Greatness. But I didn’t turn it on yet.
I peered down from the top bunk and said to Jenny, “How are you doing?”
“Tired.”
I waited to see if she would elaborate or increase the word output on another subject.
Nope.
I wanted to say something like, “It’ll be all right,” or, “Keep your chin up” or, something. Instead I said, “Goodnight.”
She turned over.
I turned on the fan, rolled onto my back and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
Despite my brother and sister dying, I couldn’t imagine what Jenny was going through, having just lost her dad. I loved my siblings beyond belief; they were everything to me. But I didn’t depend on them. They were not the soul of my support network, as Jenny’s dad, and her mom I’m sure, were for her.
Her sense of loss centered on losing her last close relative, a parent: the individual in most people’s lives who is the ultimate protector.
When my sister and brother were killed, I lost my last close relatives, and the ones I was supposed to protect.
A different feeling. But, I guess the end game is a loss is a loss.
I stared at the ceiling of the cab, which was only about three feet above me. The monotone whir of the fan could not overcome the monotone drone of wheels on pavement. The interior lights cast a soft blue tint over objects, the walls, the ceiling.
Blue is my favorite color. But on that night, the color only increased my melancholy mood.
If I turned my head, I could see the humongous truck GPS on the dash next to Ray, fifteen feet or so away.
I get lost running on an oval track. I needed to get one of those for the Beast.
I missed the Beast.
No, I missed my sister.
I missed my brother.
I looked back to the ceiling, searching for answers I’d never find to questions that should never have had to be asked. It was definitely going to be a sleepless night.
Since their deaths, I have fought hard during each remembrance of them to not think of those last images, that last scene of their lives. I push back the mental pictures, the screaming… the fear.
I have had a lot of time to practice the discipline. But I’ve also learned to recognize when I wouldn’t be able to capture the thoughts in my rogue brain when it demanded on tormenting me. Sleep abandons me, my mind haunted, until I relive those memories, watching them play in the Movie Theater of my mind.
I have pleaded with God, begged-cried out-screamed for Him to take those memories from me.
He has not.
I suffer.
And it kills me every time I remember.
My sister, Chloe, was seven. She had long curly blonde hair, sometimes a little matted because our mom wasn’t too concerned about hygiene or how we looked when she was stoned. Chloe had light blue eyes, blue that looked like the sky on a sunny day. It didn’t make a difference how dirty we were, her eyes were always that beautiful sky blue.
I think that’s why blue is my favorite color. The first time I recognized the striking blue of Chloe’s eyes, I can remember thinking they were an amazing color, a color too beautiful for just anyone to have. A color reserved only for that rare, extraordinary person.
A color made for Chloe. And I longed for my eyes to be that same blue, but I wasn’t good enough.
Ben, my brother, was nine. He had brown eyes, brown hair, and was darker than Chloe and I. He was a little small for his age. But oh so smart. And wise beyond his years. He was usually the one who came up with the games we played.
We all had deep tans—yes, even me—because we were always outside. We lived on the outskirts of town where suburban morphed into full-on rural. This was great for our imaginations as we had a virtually unlimited playground. There were a few neighbors, but they kept to themselves, leaving those Raven kids alone.
School was a different story. Surrounded by houses with fences around their yards, fences that had to be hastily climbed or get beat up.
The house was a wood clapboard four bedroom, two-story, mustard in color. It needed a lot of work which never happened. Though there were various tools, hammers, saws, wooden pencils lying around the house as if in a state of constant readiness, implying the repairs were imminent. Instead the items became permanent decorations.
All of the bedrooms were upstairs. We were never allowed in Allister’s room.
The only decorating was baseball. Allister loved the game. In fact, more than anything except drugs. There were baseball pictures, posters, gloves, bats…
Almost every room had a baseball bat. This served a dual purpose: to promote the motif, and be a constant reminder of what he would do to us—or, more effectively—what he would do to a brother or sister if we ever did something he did not like. For example, tell on him.
Where we lived there were lots of trees, dirt, and dead grass. We played cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, pirates searching for buried treasure, and more exotic settings like a zombie apocalypse on Mars.
That last s
cenario was fueled by an abandoned cemetery on a hill not too far from the house. Cemeteries for kids are like steroids for the imagination.
We took soap-less baths in a stock pond on a neighbor’s property. I would always climb a nearby tree and look for snakes.
Water moccasins love Texas waters. Some people call them cottonmouths. If you’re ever unfortunate to see one open its mouth while looking at you, you’ll see a bright white, cotton-like mouth. The cottonmouth name I understand. I don’t get the moccasin name. They look nothing like shoes.
If the coast was clear, I’d grab my walking stick and wade into the water, slapping it around me on the water’s surface to scare off any unseen snakes. Then Chloe and Ben would join me.
Just once did a snake ever sneak up on us. Thankfully, we weren’t on his diet plan for the day.
We also played dolls and dress up for Chloe. We didn’t mind. She played pirates with us and made a pretty good zombie. It was the least we could do.
We did everything together. We were abused and neglected kids, with the secret knowledge that each day had the potential to bring great physical and emotional pain. And fear.
To quote the philosopher Jon Bon Jovi, “We had each other, and that’s a lot for us.”
Well, I guess that’s not really fair to Mom. At some fathoms-deep level, I think she may have loved us. Maybe just an instinctual feeling, but there just the same. At times she even cared for us.
We did have one neighborhood friend who frequently played with us, Billy.
Billy was a little different, but we didn’t care. He was still cool and a lot of fun. He had white hair with black spots, four legs and barked. He liked to wear bandanas and little makeshift cowboy hats. No matter how hard you tried or how fast you ran, you could never get away from ol’ Sheriff Billy.
He’d chase us down until we fell, heightened gentleness with Chloe, and then stand on our chests with his forelegs, licking our faces with a perpetual grin.
I imagined he was thinking Gotcha gotcha gotcha with each rapid-fire lick. We’d laugh, or giggle in Chloe’s case, until we couldn’t take it anymore.
He helped save us from losing our sanity, from falling into a hopeless and immutable despair.
