G Hopf - Driver 8 - A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

Portia approached him and asked, “Can I borrow that phone?”

“Yeah, but let me make a call first,” Jacob said putting down the packs in the front room and removing the phone from his jacket pocket. He powered it on and waited patiently for a message notification to pop up, but nothing. He hit the green call button and waited. The phone rang and rang then disconnected. “Shit,” he said hitting the green button again, this time it didn’t connect. The phone beeped several times signaling he didn’t have any service. “Nothing, no service. We’re out of range of any sats.”

“Can I try?” Portia asked.

“Sure but don’t try too much, I don’t want to run down my battery,” Jacob said offering her the phone.

She took it and then realized she didn’t know her direct line, in fact, she didn’t know anyone’s direct line at The Collective. The phone service there relied on old phone lines. There were several lines at dispatch that allowed outside calls to come in but she didn’t know those numbers. “Jacob.”

“Yeah,” he replied, his attention on unpacking.

“Stupid question, but do you know the direct number for The Collective?”

He laughed. “Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t have them on speed dial.”

How stupid are you? She thought. I have a phone and I can’t make a call because I don’t know the number.

Jacob could see she was upset, he walked over and took the phone. “We’ll figure something out.”

“I need to know if my husband is alive,” she said somberly.

He lowered his head and said, “You said your husband was Driver Eight.”

“Yeah.”

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What?”

“It might be best if you sat down,” he said pointing to a dining room table in the next room.

Leigh was walking in and overheard his last comment. She scrunched her face and walked past, she was curious about what was happening.

“I don’t need to sit, if you’re going to tell me my husband is dead, it wouldn’t be the first time,” Portia replied standing tall.

Leigh placed a box in the far room and slowly opened the lid and pretended she was sorting through it, her ear locked on their conversation.

“Days ago I had contact with Tommy O’Leary, he’s one of ours if I didn’t mention it before. Anyway, he was heading to The Collective for a job when he’d received word that an old friend of his, a driver, was killed. I don’t know how but he told me his name was Driver Eight.”

“He didn’t mention anything about how?” Portia asked.

“Like I said, he didn’t say how, just that he was dead.”

Portia went to the dining table and sat down. She put her head in her hands and began to weep. She had been told of Kyle’s death before and it turned out to be a lie but this time it did make sense. All she had to do was look at her situation. Here she was hundreds of miles away from the one place she could call home. She had been almost sold into slavery and was witness to a Generate blood ceremony. It was conceivable Kyle was dead, a victim of Barry’s.

Leigh’s hard edge melted away. She walked over and knelt next to Portia. “I heard, I’m sorry.”

“I’m alone,” Portia whimpered.

Jacob came up and said, “You’re not. You’re with us now.”

“He’s right, you’re with us,” Leigh said softly rubbing Portia’s back.

It wasn’t often that Jacob witnessed Leigh’s softer side and he liked it. “I’m going to let you all talk, time to get the rest of the gear and secure the vehicles.”

“I want to go with you,” Portia blurted out to Jacob as he walked away.

He stopped and turned around, “To Paradise?”

“Yes, I want to go with you. I don’t know if it’s real but this place doesn’t offer me anything anymore. Whatever I can do, ask of me. I know I’m not Leviathan, but I’ll carry my weight.”

Jacob glanced at Leigh who returned it with a smile. “Deal, welcome to the team.”

Kyle pulled his truck over and fueled up. From his vantage point he had a good view of the city below. He had made the decision right from the start that he was going directly through Grand Junction, regardless of The Generate activity. Anything else would take him another half day or more, something he couldn’t do.

Driving through Grand Junction was already dangerous but doing so at night made it even more precarious because when the sun set, the Generates came out.

The glow of numerous fires below told him the city was truly occupied by the heathens. His one saving grace could be if they were preoccupied feasting or performing any number of their known ceremonies. For a group of humans that had devolved to their current state, they very much clung to things uniquely human, such as organized rituals and ceremonies.

Taking the main road through Grand Junction wasn’t going to work so he planned on driving back roads and side streets. The Generates were many but even with their numbers, they couldn’t man every road.

Armed with a street map of downtown, he plotted several routes and put them to memory. Part of his plan was to make the drive using only his night vision, he had hoped to have moon glow but his timing was off. He attached the night vision to his helmet, prepared every weapon he had and loaded every magazine. He was ready to go but needed to do one more thing. He took the phone and called the number. All he got was a steady ring. He began to grow concerned that something had happened to this Jacob character. Frustrated, he tossed the phone onto the seat, got behind the wheel, and headed towards the first turn off just a mile ahead.

Gunny walked in through the front door and headed towards the others who were grouped together around the dining table. The only light Jacob wanted on was a small battery powered lantern.

“What’s for dinner?” Gunny asked looking around at the long faces.

“Don’t know, Chef said it would be up but that was a good thirty minutes ago,” Leigh complained, she was cleaning her side arm, a Glock 17.

“Why does everyone look like their pet cat was just killed?” Gunny joked, taking off his tactical vest and hanging it from the seat back.

“Hungry,” Leigh answered.

Jacob was busy looking over a map while Portia just sat, lost in her own thoughts.

“Well, I’m going to go check on Chef, I promised Crusher I’d bring him some chow,” Gunny said and headed towards the kitchen. The hall was dark and from the absence of light coming from the kitchen, Chef wasn’t there. “Hey, Chef you there?” Gunny asked walking into the pitch black room. He removed a flashlight and turned it on. From the looks of it, Chef hadn’t been doing anything back here. He quickly exited and went back to the group. “Hey guys, Chef isn’t back there. And he’s not cooking shit.”

“Maybe he’s jerking off somewhere,” Leigh joked.

“No, I’m serious, he’s gone, somethings not right,” Gunny stressed.

Leigh jumped up, quickly put the pistol back together, inserted a full magazine and racked the slide. “Let’s go look for Chef.”

Jacob turned to Portia who stood looking lost. He pulled out an old Smith and Wesson revolver and handed it to her. “Here, you’ll need something to protect you just in case.” Portia took the gun and held it in her open hand unsure of how to use it. “It’s simple, point, and pull the trigger. You have six rounds in there,” Jacob said and headed out with Leigh and Gunny.

“Should I come too?” she asked.

Jacob hollered out, “No, stay put.”