Page 2 of Truck

“If you would take a look at the paperwork in the office with me, it would be a great help. I am trying to formulate a list of who to contact for filling the gas tanks, and where to purchase what the convenience store will need,” I mumble to myself which Mr. Tillman hears. “Maybe what I need to purchase equipment-wise for the damn store, too.”

“Come on, Truck. Let’s look, shall we?”

I follow Mr. Tillman inside, and as he stops, I nearly walk into the back of him. I watch as his eyes scan the place, right before he shakes his head in disgust.

After we take in the convenience store area, we head to the office, where again Mr. Tillman shakes his head in disgust. “The asshole literally closed the door and walked away. He’s left all this shit for someone else to clear out. That is typical of him, but you know we just need to get a burner going and burn all this paperwork. We’ll find suppliers and make our own contacts. Now, come on, Truck, let's get moving because, as the cowboys say, we are burning daylight. Now, grab hold of that box, Truck, and let’s throw all this into it. Then we’ll find a place to burn it all without blowing ourselves up.”

We worked for a good hour, taking boxes of paperwork out to the back of the property. I found an old trash can, nice, deep, and metal. With some holes made in the sides, it will be a great incinerator for all this paperwork.

“What can I call you? Because saying Mr. Tillman all the time is, yeah, respectful, but a bit of a mouthful,” I ask with all respect in my tone.

“Hm, my name is Bertrum, but my wife and friends used to call me Rum, or Rummy, so I would answer to either of those.”

“Okay, Rum, let’s set this on fire and discuss your salary,” I say firmly, which tells him I’m not messing around.

Rum gives me a serious look and must see I’m not going to back down. “Okay, Truck. Let’s get this done.”

Time is getting on now and we’ve emptied all the paperwork from the office. We burned it all, so no issue can come from it. We even found quite a bit more under the counter in the store area. Which, of course, we discarded too.

“I’ve had enough, Rum. How about you?” I ask.

Rum grins. “Yeah, okay. I’ll stop in at the bar and have a beer before I go home. It’s a frozen meal tonight.”

“Why the fuck are you eating that crap?” I ask astonished.

Rum looks at me with a serious face. “When you are on your own, you don’t always want to cook. It just seems pointless. I cook twice a week, but the rest of the time I have a frozen meal.”

“Come on. You come with me. You can get your vehicle tomorrow. I’ll pick you up in the morning. Now, we are going to the diner to eat actual food,” I state it again as fact and not as a question.

That is how I end up at the diner with Rum, eating chicken pot pie, smashed potatoes and roasted vegetables. Talking about life in general until Cilla and Finger, who are carrying Ayla, walk into the diner. Making a beeline for my table, I look at Rum, who is smiling at Ayla. Ayla is nine months old already and she is the prettiest little girl I’ve ever seen. She is always smiling, even when nobody is in the room. We have proof of that on Keys' system. Tracker thinks it is her ghostly godfathers playing with her.

“Hi, Truck,” Cilla greets as she takes a seat. Finger is smirking at the fact that Cilla has planted herself at my table without asking if that is okay. “Hi, Rummykins.” Cilla looks right at Mr. Tillman as she says it, and he stops with his fork halfway to his mouth before lowering it and looking at her with shock written all over his face.

“What did you say?” Rum asks, and I look from Cilla to Rum and back again. Finger chuckles and walks away with Ayla to order their meal.

Cilla looks fully at Rum now and gives him a warm smile. “Your wife said to call you Rummykins, then you’d know I wasn’t telling you lies. She’s standing beside you, and I will tell you this, she is smiling at you with a look full of love.”

I quickly intervene. “Cilla sees the dead. Don’t mind her. She is harmless, but she is telling you the truth. She really sees them and talks to them.”

Rum looks at me again, then Cilla. “Is she okay?” Rum asks with worry in his voice.

Cilla gives him a bright smile. “Oh, yes, she is fine. She said she’ll not see you for a long time as it’s not your turn yet. But she said you must eat better and stop with those frozen meals. Help Truck and get back to work, stop sitting around waiting.”

Rum’s eyes water, and he rubs his sternum. I can hardly imagine what he is feeling. To know your wife, who you love deeply, is watching over you, and still ordering you around has to be mind-bending shit.

Finger returns, and Ayla is waving her arms around and giggling at something. Cilla smiles before taking her from Finger. “Ayla is smiling at your wife. Oh, your son is with her, and he said hello. He’s all healed now, and when it’s his time, he’ll come back again to have another life.”

Ayla is jumping up and down while Cilla hangs onto her. She’s laughing and spluttering something, but she’s not spoken yet although Cilla and Finger have had a competition going whether she’ll say Momma or Popa first. What none of us expected was this moment. Ayla throws her arms in the air as though she wants someone to pick her up, and splutters clear as can be, “Bobo…”

Finger turns his head to look at Ayla in slow motion, as does Cilla. I cover my mouth with a hand to stop the laugh that is ready to burst forth. Rum is still in shock that his wife and son are here so is missing what is going on.

“Bobo? Fuckin’ Bobo? You wait you total fucking asshole until I’m dead. I’m going to rip your dick off and shove it up your ass,” Finger snarls.

Now, I don’t think anyone has noticed, but Tracker and Cap have walked into the diner. Hearing the commotion, Tracker walks up, takes Ayla from Cilla and walks out of the diner with her.

Everyone in the diner at this point is sitting, watching our table and probably waiting for what is going to happen next.

Chapter 2