by David Rogers
Gut check at the Choke-and-Puke
by David Rogers
Gut check at the Choke-and-Puke
Copyright© 2014 by David Rogers
[email protected]
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This is a work of original fiction set in Georgia. Some real locations and businesses have been used to set scenes, but all such trademarks are the respective property of their owners. All depicted characters are fictional and not intended to represent specific living persons.
Cover map data Copyright©2013 Google
Table of Contents
Foreword
Chapter One – Interfering with Shutter Trouble
Chapter Two – Hot Load
Chapter Three – Close the Back Door
Foreword
Zombies
Chapter One – Interfering with Shutter Trouble
Lauren stirred as the voices on the radio penetrated the fog of sleep that had been wrapped around her. She started to frown, then woke up enough to catch herself and turn it instead into a small half smile. Opening her eyes, she paused just as she started the practiced just-waking-up stretch when she realized she had the bunk to herself.
That was odd. Todd was a nice guy, but he was a guy. He was definitely not above waking her up for a early morning quickie. Or, considering the circumstances, a not-so-quickie. In fact, it was all but expected. She knew the score, and had ridden with Todd many times before in the last year. When you hitched from one truck stop to another, the ‘standard’ rate the driver paid her got him more than just the one roll in the sack.
Normally she gave them one when she was picked up, and another at the end. When the trip included letting her sleep – usually with her tucked in next to the driver – that was at least one more spread. Sometimes two, depending on how randy the driver was, how long the trip had been, and how long he was promising to let her sleep. Most of the trucks’ sleeper cabs were considerably more comfortable than some of her other options for some shut eye; at least, those that didn’t involve her shelling out for a hotel room.
But here she was, waking up alone in his truck, with Todd nowhere to be seen. Curiouser and curiouser. She glanced around the cozy sleeper compartment of the truck. Nothing seemed particularly out-of-order, and her clothes and bag were still tucked up against the passenger side where she’d put them before climbing into the bunk with the driver last night. Her phone was also untouched, resting on the little shelf where it was safe against being accidentally crushed while it charged.
Not really expecting a problem – but unable to keep herself from checking – she looked in her purse. Everything was still in there; makeup and condoms filling most of the space, her wallet still containing the forty dollars or so in mixed bills she generally kept there . . . and the secret pocket in the purse’s side was untouched. She opened two of the seam’s concealed buttons deftly and verified the stack of bills visually before sealing it back up quickly.
That was her current haul. Nearly six thousand dollars she was headed down to Macon with to add to her safe deposit box. The proceeds from weeks of opening her body up to truckers up and down I-75. Normally she didn’t like to let quite so much build up before she got it secured in the box, but it had been a very good couple of weeks, and she’d found herself taking several trips up north of Atlanta with drivers who were interested in paying her to ride along.
Satisfied Todd hadn’t robbed her, Lauren threw back the sheet and struggled into her clothes in the limited space available. She was just slight enough to be able to stand – stooped over – between bunk and front wall of the sleeper, but it was more comfortable to just lay on the bunk and slide into her clothes horizontally. It wasn’t like she was unused to dressing and undressing in that position.
When everything was back in place, she looped the purse across her body from left to right, put her phone and charger inside, then pulled out her bare essentials. Brush to tame ‘morning hair’, compact so she could use its mirror to see what she was doing, and enough makeup to ensure her face was properly presentable. It wasn’t like guys didn’t know she wore makeup, but they paid her for the illusion. Part of her success was making sure she kept that illusion intact whenever she could.
She was well practiced at doing herself up in dim lighting, and one handed at that. It took her less than a minute to apply the minimal amount that transformed her from cute to sexy. One was attractive; the other was worth paying for. Her livelihood depended on knowing the difference. She finished by spritzing some breath freshener into her mouth.
Properly turned out, she tucked everything back into the purse and slid open the sleeper’s door. Stark truck stop lighting washed in from the cab’s windows on three sides, with a touch of red and orange neon from the stop’s signage offering the only relief from the unflattering artificial illumination.
Todd was sitting in the driver’s seat, CB microphone in his hand as he listened to the radio. He glanced back as she appeared, but other than that quick look, kept his full attention on the speakers. Lauren hid a frown as she slipped past him to drop into the passenger seat. The front of the truck was as neat as the back – Todd was a meticulous driver who paid attention to detail. She liked to hitch her long-haul hops with him whenever possible for that reason; he was focused on business, same as her. Plus, she could count on the truck not being a crumb filled grime-fest that would require her to conceal her revulsion.
“Morning baby.” she offered after a moment, when the voice on the radio trailed off. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to without getting off.”
“Shhhh.” he said, reaching for the CB’s volume knob and turning it up.
That was definitely not the usual response from a driver. “What’s going on?” she asked, though in a lower voice.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Slightly annoyed, but curious, Lauren stopped ignoring the radio and started listening.
“–lling y’all, this is legit. They’re pulling out all the stops to get these places filled up with supplies. Ain’t gonna be no bullshit about negotiations or costs either.” a man was saying.
“Red, there ain’t never a lack of bullshit over price.”
“Call the Feds then, or check their website. They need the shit hauled, and they don’t care about anything else. They signing anything you slap down in front of them that’s not completely ridiculous.”
“Which site?” Todd asked quickly, pushing the button on his microphone to jump in before someone else could.
“The FEMA site.” Red answered. “But the same info is on the Georgia site too.”
“Which Georgia site?” someone asked.
“The State of Georgia.”
Todd racked the CB’s microphone on its metal hook and reached up to the overhead with a small ring of keys he took from his shirt pocket. Deftly, he unlocked a storage compartment there and pulled out a laptop computer. He slid out a collapsible ledge from the top edge of the dashboard and unfolded the computer onto it.
“Todd–” Lauren began.
“Here.” he said as the laptop started powering up. He lowered the volume on the CB to almost nothing, then brought up the normal radio’s sound. “Listen.”
Lauren was close to violating her rule about not frowning. She didn’t like to frown, and the guys didn’t like it either. They liked their girls sweet and happ
y, not serious and upset. She forgot about that as the deejay’s voice filled the cab. He wasn’t introducing a song or giving some cheerful piece of trivia about a band, and his tone was both serious and upset.
“–orities are offering little new information at this time. What we’re getting seems to indicate downtown has gone from bad to worse. Nearly all the roads and interstates out of Atlanta are blocked; either by wrecked and abandoned vehicles, or by crowds of those who’ve been affected by this terrible disease. I continue to urge anyone who hasn’t already evacuated to do so immediately, and if you can’t evacuate then secure yourself in a building and keep out of sight.”
Lauren blinked at the urgent notes in the deejay’s voice. She looked at Todd, but he was busy typing on the laptop. She craned her head and saw a web page loading up that was covered with official looking graphics and lettering. She saw ‘Federal Emergency Management Agency’ labeled prominently across the top, just before Todd found whatever he was looking for and clicked on it. The screen changed to one that was conspicuous in its lack of formatting – literally just paragraphs and lines of text – but Todd was reading intently.
“Area hospitals are completely swamped with victims and injuries, and some are turning into new outbreak points as well.” the deejay continued as she watched Todd reading. “Everyone we’ve talked to is recommending citizens should avoid going to hospitals and clinics unless your injury is immediately life-threatening. Anyone who presents themselves with a non-urgent condition will likely be sent home, and it’ll take you hours to even get that much attention. We recommend consulting the internet for basic first aid instructions. Listeners can check the WSB site for some good links if you can’t find the information you need on your own.”
“What’s he talking about?”
Todd didn’t look away from the laptop’s screen. “There’s some sort of outbreak in Atlanta.” He manipulated the laptop’s touchpad for a moment and clicked on something.
“What kind of outbreak?” Lauren asked slowly.
“Medical. I don’t know.” Todd shrugged. “But whatever it is, the city’s in full lockdown. At least, the cops and Feds are trying to lock it down. I don’t think they’re having a lot of success.”
“Is it just Atlanta, or . . .” she glanced involuntarily out the windows. The truck stop looked calm enough – with maybe a quarter of the available parking slots occupied, though she knew that was actually a sign in itself. Lots of professional truckers tended to park up for Friday and Saturday night, to avoid the problems that came with ‘civilians’ drinking and partying and driving around, and the extra police presence that appeared to deal with that. A normal Friday night should have seen the stop much busier than it seemed to be.
“It’s not just Atlanta.” Todd answered. “But so far the problem spots seem to be centered around downtown and some hospitals.”
“What are you doing?”
He shrugged. “FEMA is apparently in high gear crisis mode. They’ve put out a blanket call for supply runs to refugee camps they’re setting up outside the metro area; on a crash priority basis. There are thousands of refugees fleeing the metro area, and it looks like there’s nowhere for most of them to go except into the arms of the Feds. Guess they’re not interested in waiting to see how bad things could get before they start helping out.”
Lauren considered. She had . . . rival business acquaintances . . . who’d been working in or around New Orleans back in ’05. Their stories, filling in around the already lavish and lurid details the media had delighted in covering, told a tale of how quickly things could go to shit. Especially in a major city. When things were normal, people went about their lives and did whatever they usually did. Even those of them that were prone to . . . disruptive activities . . . did them in ways and manners that tended to not grossly upset the status quo.
Even though she was too young to have witnessed the chaos of Katrina first hand, she was smart enough to have paid attention to all the coverage it had received since. And her activities had made her a student of human nature. Indeed, her safety and livelihood had given her a keen appreciation for evaluating how people acted and reacted.
If whatever was happening in Atlanta had shut the city down . . .
“When are you leaving?”
Todd finally looked up from the laptop. “What?”
“I guess you’re not headed down to Macon anymore, right?”
“No, not unless I can’t get in on the FEMA haulage.”
Lauren smiled in a practiced manner. “I need to use the little girl’s room, and I’m going to see what I can pick up from anyone who’s inside about what’s going on. If I go do all that and come back before you’re ready to leave, can I still ride along with you?” She made sure to lean forward in just the right way, pushing her breasts out so they were on display in the thin, low neckline halter she was wearing.
Todd stared at her – or at least her breasts – for a moment, then seemed to mentally shake himself. “I’ve got to make a call to their hotline and log my details with some computer system they’ve set up, then get gassed.”
She knew the fueling alone would take at least ten minutes. Another thought occurred to her. “What about your load?”
He shrugged and reached into his pocket. “There’s a chance they’ll buy it outright, either because they can use it or just to free the trailer up. If not, there’s mention of warehouse space where they’ll unload and secure it so I can fit in their haul.”
“Okay, sounds like I’ve got time to go inside. I’ll check back in with you before you roll out.” Lauren said smoothly.
“Here.” Todd said. He’d dug his cellphone out of his pocket, and now produced his wallet as well. He unfolded it and extracted a twenty and a ten he handed to her. “Buy a sack of burgers with this for me would you? Lots of burgers. And a six pack of Cokes. Bottles.”
“Sure thing baby.” Lauren nodded, accepting the money and tucking it into her bra specifically so he could watch her do it. “I’ll be back.”
He gave her a distracted smile, but his attention had switched from the money to her breasts to the phone, which he was now dialing. Lauren shrugged mentally and opened the passenger door. It took practice to climb down from a tractor cab in high heels and a short skirt, but it was a skill she’d mastered. She paused momentarily to straighten her skirt, then headed for the building.
It was lit up like was normal for night time operations, but even before she neared it she could tell things were not normal. Most truck stops divided themselves into a store side and a restaurant side – usually a fast food place that subleased the space from whoever owned the store side. Even at night, the store side typically had five or six employees on hand to man registers, maintain stock levels, and handle any problems that might come up with the fuel pumps or whatever. The restaurant usually added at least another three employees to run its kitchen and registers through the dark hours.
Now though, Lauren saw only two people manning registers in the store, and a single person at the counter of the Burger King. Very curious. She angled for the door that opened directly into the restaurant, already doing math in her head. Todd liked thick double burgers, she remembered, but he also seemed preoccupied with other matters. Eying the menu to refresh herself of the options, she decided to get one ‘good’ burger and fill the rest of the sack from the value menu.
“You serving or . . . ?” Lauren asked as she approached the counter. She didn’t see anyone else around, which was why she asked. Usually it took a couple of people to run a burger place.
“What can I get for you?” the guy at the register replied with a – almost – suppressed sigh.
“One Whopper and ten double cheeseburgers.” she answered. “Just the burgers, no meals.”
The guy sighed again, this time not even bothering to try and hide it. He poked at buttons on the register, glanced at the display, then looked up at her. “Nineteen forty-nine.”
Lauren slipped the bills
Todd had given her out of her bra and handed the register guy the twenty. He didn’t seem all that interested in where her hand had gone to retrieve the money – which most men usually were. He just held it up briefly to the light to check for the security strip, then typed on the register. “Gonna take a few minutes to get them up.” he said as the register’s cash drawer opened and he tucked the bill away.”
“That’s fine.” she assured him. “I need to grab some things from next door while I wait though.”
“No problem.”
The register emitted a clunk, then a metallic jingle as the fifty-one cents she was owed back slid out of the change dispenser on the side facing her. Lauren scooped the coins out and dropped them into her purse without looking, then accepted the receipt he offered her. He turned away and went behind the warming counter. Lauren lingered long enough to see him pulling on a pair of plastic gloves, then headed for the interior dividing door between store and restaurant.
On the other side, she heard the same deejay’s voice sounding from the store’s overhead speakers. Whatever was happening must be big if the usual truck stop background of tunes had been interrupted.
“-nd they’re just shocking. Estimates range from a low in the ten thousands all the way up into six figures – that’s over a hundred thousand – people inside the Perimeter have been affected. Teams of National Guardsmen have been converging on downtown for over two hours, but the chaos continues unabated. Our traffic reporter has been circling downtown for hours, feeding us valuable updates and observations as to what’s happening there, and so far he’s reporting that even the soldiers seem to be making little – if any – headway in clamping down on the situation.”
Lauren opened one of the multitude of coolers and took out a six pack of twenty ounce Coca-Colas. Another cooler yielded a bottle of iced coffee, though iced was more of a name than an actual description. She also grabbed a liter of mineral water, then headed up to the counter.