G Hopf - Driver 8 - A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

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.

“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.

“Brother, you’re weapons free with them. I’m just trying to track that shipment down.”

“Is this a new job?” Jacob asked.

“Yeah, it’s a job, a quick one,” Tommy answered remaining coy as to who or why he was asking for the favor.

“You’re right, it is an easy ask, but you need to stop fucking around and get that truck and head south.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“I forgot to ask, but your friend, that driver, did you reach him in time?” Jacob asked privy to the

information of Kyle.

Tommy went to reply but paused to think. Did he want the word out that Kyle was alive or did he

want the world to think he was dead, at least for now? He trusted Jacob, but still, why offer it up. As he always did, he preferred to keep things mostly vague even with other Leviathan teams. “He’s dead, Driver Eight is dead.”