G Hopf - Driver 8 - A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

Barry immediately sat up again, his body tense and alert. “Maybe we, you know, maybe we should turn around and go back to the route we just past. What do you say?” Barry said.

The radio came to life. “Driver Eight, come in over.”

Kyle picked up the hand microphone and replied, “Go for Driver Eight.”

“What’s your location, over?”

“Six miles northwest of Grand Junction. Be advised we’re staying on seventy all the way through,” Kyle replied.

“Seventy? Be advised, Driver Three reported heavy Generate activity there two days ago,” the dispatch said.

“During what hours, over?” Kyle asked.

Barry sat on the edge of his seat, listening to the conversation intently. Praying the dispatch would say something that would convince Driver Eight to turn around.

“Three reported the activity was at twelve hundred hours, over.”

“Copy that. Tell Three thanks for intel,” Kyle said.

“I’d tell him if I could reach him. We lost contact with him just after he reported the activity, over.”

“Fuck, no, turn around,” Barry barked.

“I’ve been telling your dad for a year now we need to go down and clean those savages out of there. They breed like rabbits and spread like a disease. But he said Junction wasn’t worth losing lives over.”

“It’s not.”

“Tell that to the folks who lived there before.”

“They deserved it, we always had problems with them when they were under our protection,” Barry said referring to an arrangement the city state of Grand Junction had made with The Collective.

“I’ll remind you we had a deal with them and we didn’t come to their aid when they needed it,” Kyle said.

“Who cares?”

Kyle leaned over the steering wheel and let his foot off the accelerator. He grabbed the radio and keyed it, “Dispatch, did Three say anything about roadblocks on the seventy?”

Barry whipped his head and looked out. A half mile ahead the highway was completely blocked with debris and abandoned vehicles. “Turn the fuck around!”

“Negative, Eight,” dispatch answered.

“Turn the fuck around!” Barry repeated, his hands white knuckling the dash.

Kyle put the hand mic down and said, “You know something, Barry, I think I’m going to turn around.” He saw an opening in the median ahead and went for it. He turned the wheel hard to the left causing the truck to lurch that way.

Just as he made the turn several loud cracks came from outside.

“What was that?” Barry asked his head swiveling around in all directions.

“That was gunshots,” Kyle said. “Now hold on.” The truck hit the median and bounced hard. Kyle turned the wheel hard again to the left and put his foot fully on the accelerator.

What sounded like dull thuds hitting the truck became more pronounced.

“Drive faster!” Barry screamed.

When the truck hit the west bound lanes, Kyle kept the pressure on the accelerator.

Seemingly out of nowhere came a burning car across their path.

“Watch out!” Barry yelled.

Kyle weaved around it and jokingly said, “Looks like they’re hungry.”

Appearing from behind a guard rail, four Generates came out onto the highway and laid down a long board with nails sticking up.

“Hold on!” Kyle said swerving the truck to the left and back onto the median. He handed Barry an AR platform rifle and said, “Open the gun port and shoot those fuckers!” Kyle’s truck didn’t have side windows, the cab to include the side windows was encased in an inch thick exterior metal shell with small slits for gun ports.

“Huh?” Barry asked, his face not hiding the terror he was experiencing.

Kyle caught sight of a Generate with a rifle pointed at them. “Get ahold of something, we’re going to go airborne soon.”

“No.”

Kyle jerked the wheel hard again to the left just at the time the Generate fired. His last second move prevented the shot from hitting. The truck flew out of the median onto the east bound lanes. “How we looking?”

Barry craned his head back and saw the four Generates jumping up and down, no doubt angry they had missed their target. “We’re looking good, I think.”

“Next time I say something, do it?” Kyle snapped.

“But…”

“There’s no buts, maybe asses like yourself, but no buts. I’m the master of these roads and you do what I say,” Kyle roared.

“If you’re such a master, why did you almost get us killed?” Barry snarled.

“Typically, Generates don’t come out during the day. It was an educated risk and well, it didn’t work, but we’re not dead so stop bitching.”

The tire pressure light came on with a ding.

Kyle looked at it and said, “Shit.”

“What now?”

“One of the tires, it’s losing pressure,” Kyle answered.

“It’s not safe to pull over now,” Barry said.

“We won’t have too right now, the truck has run flats but we’ll have to reduce our speed. We’ll find a secure place off a beaten path to hunker down for the night. I can fix it then.”

Barry began to laugh loudly.

“Something funny?” Kyle asked.

“I think I shit my pants.”

“Lucky for you, we’re showering tonight.”

“I’m joking,” Barry clarified.

“I’m not.”

“What do you mean by showering?”

“Unless I’m running drives in full decon gear, I try to shower every night. It’s a practice I got into from the start and I don’t see any reason to stop now.”

Not finding a reason to bicker, Barry went along, “Okay.” Suddenly curious about Kyle’s history, Barry asked the one question he’d heard the most. “Are all the stories true?”

“About me?”

“Yeah, are they true or have you bullshitted your way to glory and fame?”

“Now if I had bullshitted why would I tell you?”

“Did you really singlehandedly kill a dozen Generates with a hand-held shovel?”

Kyle looked at Barry and replied, “I’m not sure what you were taught, but I was told to never give up. I was out of ammo, I had one knife buried in the skull of one and a damn stick in the neck of another. I had nowhere to go so I tactically fell back to my rig.”

“You retreated?”

“No, I didn’t retreat and words are important. I tactically fell back, meaning I knew where the shovel was as I had been digging with it when I was attacked. I made my way back to it, and used it.”

“So, it’s true?”

“It’s true and the shovel in question is the very one attached to my pack in the back seat.”

Barry looked behind him and saw the pack sitting there with the shovel folded and clipped to the side in a holder. “Can I touch it?”

Kyle gave Barry an odd look and replied, “No, I don’t want you fiddlefucking my gear.”

“I wasn’t going to fiddlefuck anything,” Barry fumed and pouted. “Is it true, you’re always an asshole?”

Kyle laughed and answered with a question. “Do people think I’m an asshole?”

“I do.”

“Then the answer is yes.”

Portia paced the sidewalk in front of the infirmary, looking at her watch frequently. Each time the door opened she looked up with anticipation of seeing her students but each time it was someone else. Her mind spun with the different scenarios, some had Melissa coming out and others didn’t. What am I prepared to do? She asked herself. Lost in her internal turmoil she didn’t hear the door open.

“The children are done,” the nurse said.

Portia kept pacing oblivious, her back to the nurse.

“Excuse me, Teacher Seven. The students are finished!”

Portia jumped, “Oh, good, good.” Clenching her hands into fists, she approached the door.