G Hopf - Driver 8 - A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

Barry walked into the room, an LED lantern in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. Holding up the whiskey, he said proudly, “Look what I found.”

“See I knew you were good for something,” Kyle joked. “Best we check to see if it’s hot.”

“I did already,” Barry said.

“Really. I’m not so sure I can trust you considering how well you did putting up the sheeting.”

Barry sat down and crossed his legs.

Outside the winds whipped and howled.

“That’s some storm. We don’t get ones like this back in Prime,” Barry said removing the cap off the bottle.

“Can I ask how you tested the whiskey?” Kyle asked.

“The bottle wasn’t open, but figured it would be safe. However, to be careful, I cleaned a large mixing bowl, pours the whiskey in, ran the Geiger over and it didn’t register. I found a funnel, cleaned it then poured the whiskey back into the bottle.”

“Thorough, I’m impressed,” Kyle said. “And to answer your thought about storms, Prime is shielded from big storms because of all the tall mountains around it.”

Barry filled two small glasses with whiskey and handed one to Kyle.

Kyle looked at it and said, “I can assume the glass is clean?”

Barry returned his question with a look that said, yes. He put the glass to his lips and sipped, “Not bad.”

Kyle followed but took a larger gulp, “Yeah, not bad at all.”

“Where do you think Ten went?” Barry asked.

Further into the Republic I suspect. Hell, I don’t know. What I do know is you’ll never see him again,” Kyle answered.

“Too bad, he was a good guy, a trusted driver.”

“A shit bag.”

Barry took a long drink and said, “You really don’t know shit do you?”

“I know enough and I know a shit bag when I see one,” Kyle said swishing the whiskey in his glass.

After taking another swig, Barry laughed, “When we get back, what are you going to tell my father?”

“I’ve known your father for a long time as you know, I owe him my life. I’ve never lied to him and I don’t plan on doing it in this instance.”

“Then you’re going to tell him everything?”

“As I saw, yes.”

“And what if he does nothing?” Barry asked.

“I’ll politely remind him of the laws, the laws he created,” Kyle answered.

“Wow, you really are a self-righteous guy. You think you know everything because you’ve driven a truck.”

“I don’t claim to know everything, but I know right and wrong.”

Barry leaned back, glass in his hand and a big smile on his face. “What is right and wrong? Are you using standards from before The Reboot? That’s a different world. Was it so bad for people say a thousand years ago to marry a twelve-year-old? No, because that’s the way things were then. Was it wrong for people to sell slaves back then too? Again, the answer is no, that’s just the ways things were. Your problem Driver Eight, is you’re putting the morals of a dead time onto the present. You haven’t evolved or progressed. This is a new world now with new rules. You either adapt or die.”

“I don’t care if it was today or ten thousand years ago. Children are children and going around having sex with them is against the laws of nature, period.”

“The laws of nature? Please don’t bore me with your antiquated political beliefs and talk about laws of nature, natural rights, blah, blah, blah” Barry mocked.

“What do you know about natural rights?” Kyle asked.

“Do you think I got taught the same dribble as everyone else? My father let me have access to a vast library. I’ve read every book on governmental systems and political theory. He wanted me to know what we were fighting against. He has been preparing me to rule in his stead as soon as he thinks I’m ready.”

Kyle took a long drink. He could feel the liquor hitting him.

“Your other problem Driver Eight, is you’re an idealist. I’ve heard about this code you created for the drivers years ago. My father went along with it only because he likes you. For some reason he’s come to believe you’re a team player, but I see through you. You’re not. You exude individualism. It’s seeps out your pours. You’ve been on the road too long. You somehow have lost sight but let me remind you. You’re not a person, you’re a tool and when you’ve driven your last mile, we’ll find another tool to replace you. You’re nothing. So, go ahead, talk high and mighty but know that I’ll be pissing on your grave and fucking your wife after you die.”

“What did you say?” Kyle barked.

Feeling cocky, Barry leaned closer to Kyle and said, “I’ll be fucking your wife.”

Kyle dropped his glass, and snatched Barry by the throat. He squeezed hard, pulled him close and said, “Say it again.”

Barry choked and clawed at Kyle’s clenched hand.

Not done threatening him, Kyle removed his Hoback knife and placed it on Barry’s tender cheek. “I should filet you open. Cut you like the fucking pig you are and tell your father the Generates got you. It would be so easy and know what, he’d believe me because he trusts me.”

Barry’s face turned bright red and he tried to utter a word but couldn’t.

Frustrated, Kyle pushed him away.

Choking and coughing, Barry curled up on the floor. “I fucking hate you.”

Kyle stood, picking up the bottle on his way up and took a long drink. “You’re nothing but a soft fat and lazy slug. You might have read every book ever written but you’ll never be a decent human being.” Kyle tipped the bottle upside down and poured the contents on Barry. When the bottle was empty, he smashed it against the wall and said, “If you ever say anything about my wife again, I will kill you.”

Portia came to the executive mansion but this time she was led to a small parlor downstairs and told to wait. She sat pensively looking around at all the items hanging on the walls or sitting on the tables and shelves. The room was more a museum than a parlor. Everywhere she looked she saw what must have been priceless works of art and memorabilia from before The Reboot. Kyle wasn’t one to bring items like this back, but he told her some drivers did. Clearly, they all found a home here. In an adjacent room she could hear Number One talking.

“Add an additional team to guard the wind and solar farms to the north and east and make sure they have roving patrols along the conduit. I don’t care where you have to pull them from, just do it. We can’t have anyone sabotaging our power generation. Before I let you go is it true our crop yield this harvest will be thirty-three percent higher? Glad to hear, that will make for a joyous harvest festival and get back to me on how the construction of the second brewery is going as well as the hop harvest. Thank you, bye.”

She sat up and clasped her hands on her lap awaiting his entrance.

“Portia, Portia, Portia,” Number One said walking into the room.

She snapped her head to see him and Bravo One walking in. She jumped to her feet and said, “Number One, sir, if you let me explain.”

He turned to Bravo One and said, “Could you give us some privacy?”

Bravo One nodded and left but not before giving Portia a sour look.

Portia noticed right away that Number One looked worse than he did yesterday. His skin seemed almost translucent and a light film of sweat clung to it. Again, he was wearing a turtleneck sweater. “If you’ll permit me to explain.”

He walked and took a seat opposite her in a winged back chair. “Please, sit.”

She did as he said.

“I’m sure you’ve guessed that you’re here instead of jail because of me,” he said lightly patting his crossed leg.