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3
P.T.
Truck stop waitresses don’t need to come with a warning. It’s like the rule about not stopping on a run for the razor wire worms I work for.
You can look but you can’t touch…
Don’t stop. Not for anything…
No matter how many hours you’ve been stuck in a rig. No matter how many days in a row you’ve had the not-so-gentle vibrations through the seat making your mind and dick wanna go places it probably shouldn’t.
Younevertouch a waitress.
Those two shadowy men turn out to besuits. The rarely spoken term people in my business use in low voices for the kind of men doing work even we won’t touch. Not for any amount.
I’d sooner blow my brains out than become one of them. They used to be an urban myth for regular truckers as well as those in my line of work, but dammit if there doesn’t seem to be more and more of them, even in plain sight these days.
Girls getting taken. That’s something I and every trucker know all about. But not in the way they do it.
Snatching little girls for money, working for the kind of filth that sells them on for even more…That’sthe kind of so-called ‘men’ we’ll wipe out for free.
Call it…Community service. Making up for all the other bad things we do by setting at least one thing right.
But in my urgency to get her out of harm’s way, to get moving again, I miss my chance to administer justice personally.
Once the lights pop, I’m inside in five sprinted steps. They’ve got a hold of her and I can hear her struggling. See the shadow of her shape in the struggle. It’s a shape I’d like to see wriggling for a different reason and in a different place. Preferably just her and me.
I see the dull sheen of gun barrels too and squat down instantly.
The faces of the two men contorting in the shared flash as they expertly aim into the dark and shoot each other in the face, leaving me free to claim what I came for.
Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it boys?
But I’ve got fate on my side tonight and the sweetest damned girl I’ve never even seen properly yet is in my hands.
Reaching for her in the dark, it all feels so right. The softness of her skin. The sounds she makes. The heat of her breath in the black space between us.
I scoop her up over my shoulder and turn on my heel before she has a second to even comprehend what’s just happened. Kicking and hammering her tiny balled fists against my leathers lasts until we reach my rig.
And I feel it in my chest as well as my gut. What I’m risking more than my life for now if I don’t take her from this place. And I’d be a bigger fool not to tip my hat to fate once I’ve got her warm curves pressing hard into my neck.
Tossing her up into the cab before climbing in myself, she crab crawls backward across the bench seat. Her blue eyes are wide and her face ashen now she knows it’s pointless to struggle.
Her mouth stuck open like she’s been bobbing for apples in a frozen lake.
Shock.
But this isn’t the time and place for explaining or even group counseling. And an eighteen-wheeler doesn’t just spring to life and peel off down the highway. Not like the idle SUV I spot behind some bushes when I shift the gears up and feel the shudder of movement underneath me.
The thought flashes in my mind though.Take the SUV. Forget the rig, forget the last run… it could be just the two of us…
I wince with bitterness at the idea. I wish it could be that simple. Like some kind of trucker’s wet dream fantasy come true.
Prince charming I’m not. And even if she did get wet over an aging trucker, it would be a short-lived life for both of us. Always looking over my shoulder, waiting for the hammer blow of revenge from my employer. So aside from an obvious age gap and in the process of snatching her myself. I’m forgetting the rule again.
I’ve stopped, but now I have to get moving again. And fast.
I can drop princess glad to be alive here at the next town and she can live out her pretty little life. My good deed for the day done. Two less suits in the world too. And one girl who might never know just how lucky she is to have escaped them.
