Truck (part 3)
In case you missed part 1, start here: Truck (part 1)
10PM
“You know this is bullshit, none of the other departments have to stay this late,” Barb spit as she hoisted another heavy metal bowel of the produce rack and started spraying slimy green entrails off the fans encased below. “I’ve been reading about the history of unions in this book and I…”
“You can’t even say that word here, this is Florida. Don’t let Jud hear you.” Chance hissed.
“Jud my ass. Weird, smooth skinned pervert. He always stumbles when he tries to talk to me, old enough to be my dad. Fucking gross.”
“Shhhhhhhh!”
“Oh, fuck you too. Isn’t he supposed to be down here helping us?”
Jud heard it all from the front-end manager’s crow’s nest, a weirdly raised room where the cashiers counted their tils with eyes and ears on the whole store. He muttered to himself, “Goddamn socialist kids. Pervy my ass, lucky to get attention…” Secret surveillance ran constant scans and only assistant managers and up could access the streams and stored data. Jud clenched his fists, took a deep breath and felt a new sense of powerlessness wash over him. Seething, exhausted, the stench of puke lingering up his nostrils, he mustered all of his effort and stood up. The room swam.
Later
“Oh shit, he’s waking up?”
“Hey Jud, are you there? We just found you passed out on the floor. I’m dialing 911 right now.”
The room slowly came into focus and he bleated weakly, “No, no I’m fine. Just minished dinner.”
“Minished?”
“Missed,” he wiped his mouth and saw Chance up close and Barb a little behind him. Both of their expressions showed a mix of horror and disgust. “Are you done with the clean?”
“Yes,” they both replied.
“Alright, let’s get out of here.”
Chance hesitated, “Do you need help getting to your truck?”
Barb took Chance by the arm, lowered her voice and hissed, “What are you doing, he should not be driving!”
“No, thanks for waking me up, but don’t touch me. I’m fine.”
Ignition 2
Back in the cab of his truck, his clothes felt like a tightening noose around his whole body. He ripped them off as fast as possible and started the ignition sequence. The chair chunked into place and he slumped into it, completely exhausted. As the connections began, the pain pressed every memory of the day’s failings together one by one into a lump floating around the left side of his head. Jud felt the sting of getting pushed around, emasculated and failure to retort or stand up for himself amassing into a growing pit of rage deep inside of him. As the orgasmic crescendo of jacking into the truck’s systems exploded across all his senses, he felt strong and powerful again at last.
An entire day of diminishing life force wiped away in an instant of exploding horsepower and a mixture of psychic and carnal bliss. Even the putrid odor cocktail of bile, rotisserie chicken vapors and produce slime that clung to his body whisked away as he became one with the truck once again. Jud’s headache dissipated, his sweat evaporated, and his alertness renewed, but his rage remained.
Highway 2
Jud whipped out onto the highway and merged as quickly as possible, nearly creaming the speeding car he saw in the next lane but ignored to try to teach them a lesson. The car swerved into the next lane and almost crashed into another car, beeping and swerving, swerving and beeping. The power of control poured over him like a healing salve as he pushed the truck’s speed higher and higher with his thoughts. He rode right up to the next truck in front of him as close as he possibly could. He could feel the panic of his adversary and drew from their weakness. His body was humming with glee, power and connectedness with his truck. He saw a weak little flash of the brakes in the truck in front of him and felt all the rage of the day flow through his body. His truck sped up and tapped the back bumper of the truck in front of him, ever so gently, which caused it to swerve and skid off the road. Even as he sped away, Jud heard the car smash into the barricade.
Terror flooded Jud’s entire body as he yelled, “Hey, what the hell? That wasn’t what I wanted?” He hadn’t willed that last speed up that sent that car off the road. He couldn’t have. He wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. He felt his terror and shock subside as conflicting thoughts flooded his consciousness. Thrill, anger, confusion, helplessness, power, control, guilt, shame, righteousness and indignation blasted through his head all at once. Simultaneously, every connection tingled and washed a warm blanket of dulling pleasure across his body. A calm, controlled demeanor washed across his face as his eyes sparkled triumphantly. “This is my road. All roads are my road. The world is roads. Every vehicle is an obstacle and every challenger will be put down.”
A manifesto professed. A purpose. Pushing midnight and still on the road. In his truck. The only place he felt whole. A lifetime of loneliness and feeling out of step, realized. His thoughts spilled out with growing clarity as he sped around cars, ensuring every maneuver as close to them as possible. Feeling the power of taking charge of his life, he kept driving and swerving. He thought of his suburban 3 bedroom 2 bathroom home he rented for $4,000 dollars a month. How much were they spending on the truck? He couldn’t remember. Credit cards going up, no time but work, sleep, work, sleep, work, sleep. Lost in thought, still aggressively pushing through the traffic, he suddenly realized the exit he passed was the last one before the bridge. 12 miles before he could make another move. “I’m not going home, am I?”
...to be concluded in Truck (part 4).
