Yes I'm back. I've been crazy busy. One exciting thing I've been doing is writing articles for a mountain newspaper called The Flume. It's been pretty time consuming. Basically I have to drive 45 minutes (fortunately the drive is in the Rocky Mountains and it's dazzling) to a county commissioner's meeting, sit through a two hour meeting, drive 45 minutes back, write the article, and submit it to my editor. At least I get to use my imagination to turn a boring meeting into an interesting article! But the best part: seeing my name in print!
With no further ado, here's the latest installment of The Truck in Front.
The Truck in Front, part 4
Niyah backed off from the blue truck, trying not to look like she was following it. They went north, blindly driving through what was probably beautiful country, though she couldn’t tell in the dark night. Maybe she would get to see it on the way home.
Around ten o’clock they passed through the town of Moab. Mexican restaurants and steak joints were just flicking off their “OPEN” signs. Patrons heading to their cars or hotels peeked in the dark windows of gift shops and mountain bike-rental places. An entourage of lifted Jeeps, decked out with bright lights, winches and big tires, cruised slowly in the right lane. When the only stoplight in town turned yellow up ahead, the Jeeps went even slower.
The blue flatbed got in the left lane. Niyah, trying to appear innocuous, stayed behind the Jeeps and planned to change lanes and pass when the light turned green.
But then the light turned red and the flatbed went right through the intersection! Several nearby vehicles honked angrily; Niyah panicked. She swerved into the left lane but came to a stop at the solid red.
She impatiently slapped the steering wheel with her palm. She looked left and right, wondering if she should run it. Just as she was about to do it, the light turned green. She gunned her tiny engine and passed the leisurely train of 4x4’s. But the flatbed was out of sight.
She sped up the highway for a few minutes, peering about for any sign of it. Up ahead on the right, a high ridge glowed amber beneath the moonlight. She could faintly see a ribbon of road winding up its side but no headlights ascending. Then she saw it…a pair of taillights!
The taillights were near where the ribbon of road intersected the highway, amidst a cluster of buildings. A sign indicated that this was the main entrance to…Arches National Park! There was a visitor center, a maintenance building, and a guard house all dark. And the entrance gates were up. This must be it!
But the blue truck passed the road. It didn’t even slow down!
Niyah’s heart fell. Her confidence was gone. This was Arches! Why hadn’t the truck turned in? Should she keep following it or should she abandon it and turn into the park? Hadn’t Ollie said the National Park was the key?
All these thoughts flashed through her head in a matter of seconds. At the last instant, she decided to keep following the flatbed. She seemed strangely drawn to it. And besides, she could always turn around and come back to the National Park. So, with the wheel gripped firmly beneath her knuckles, she continued following and wondered if she had made the right decision.
Fifteen minutes later, her gamble proved right. The high ridge quickly became flatlands and into them a dirt road veered off to the right. Beside it, an old sign read, “National Forest Access—Klondike Bluffs. National Parks Pass Required For Entry. High clearance 4x4 vehicles only.”
And the blue truck turned onto it.
Niyah knew she couldn’t be obvious so she drove past it without reducing speed, went over the next hill, and stopped in a gravel pullout. She turned her headlights off and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. When she could make out the center yellow line, she checked for traffic, flipped a u-turn, and slowly drove back to the dirt road.
The blue truck was already a half-mile away. She could see its headlights jouncing and flicking this way and that as it navigated the rough terrain.
She drove twenty yards onto the road, pulled to the side, and turned off her engine. Then she smiled.
This was all meant to be. Sure, her car was too low to drive on the rough road. But her bike wasn’t. And miraculously, her mountain bike just happened to be strapped to the trunk. Quickly she changed from her sandals into tennis shoes. Then she unstrapped the bike and hopped on.
As she pedaled, she guessed she could go nearly as fast as the truck on this narrow, rocky road. The night air was cool and energizing. She pedaled hard and tried not to think about what she would do when she discovered where that flatbed was headed.
Suddenly a spine-tingling sound rent the night. Worse than fingernails on a chalkboard, she heard metal grating against rock. An engine roared and then abruptly stopped. Then silence but for the crunch of her tires on gravel.
Up ahead the road took a sharp left turn then disappeared into a narrow ravine. She could tell that the road went upwards, so she down shifted her bike in preparation to climb. But as she approached the turn, a most out of place odor hit her nose.
Rain.
It smelled like rain.
Then a flash of light briefly illuminated the landscape and the silence was cracked by the sound of thunder. She looked at the starry sky in shock and confirmed there wasn’t a single cloud! What was going on?
She put her fingers on the brake but didn’t squeeze, in order to carry as much speed up the hill as possible. She leaned into the turn, came around, and looked up the hill.
The blue truck had rolled over!
She squeezed the brakes and skidded to a stop. Just ahead, the trail ascended steeply over a garden of pumpkin-sized boulders with a deep rut eroded into the shoulder of the trail. It looked like the heavy truck had slipped off the boulders into the rut, and had rolled on its roof.
The cab was crushed! One of the tires still turned slowly. White steam rose from the chassis.
Niyah jumped off her bike and ran up to the cab. The only occupant was the driver, a rough looking sort with stubbly jaw and sunken eyes. His neck was pinned between the roof and the steering wheel, literally crushed. Dead.
She turned away, and vomited into a thicket of junipers. She stayed doubled over while putrescence drizzled out of the corner of her mouth.
Finally, she spit. Then she spit again. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, stood up, and held her head in her hands. She had to focus. The driver wasn’t important. She was here to find Jeremiah. So…where was that crate?
She saw it, behind her, down the hill a little ways. In her hurry to get to the truck, she had run right past it. It had rolled across a patch of cacti and come to a stop in a stand of barren scrub oak. As she scrambled down to it the scent of rain returned, growing ever stronger. On reflex, she took a deep breath and savored the smell. Exciting. Invigorating. Dangerous.
Yes, dangerous. For now, at the crate, she glanced about nervously. One side of the wood was broken and the inside gaped open. Empty. Whatever had been inside was now out.
And whatever had been inside was alive, evident by the scrape-marks leading away from it.
“Jeremiah?” she called out shakily.
Thunder rolled again. Another flash of light brightened the ravine for a half second. In the spark, she saw something move along the wall of the ravine!
“Jeremiah?” she called again. “It’s Miss Niyah! Honey, if you can hear me, yell or something! So I can find you!”
More thunder and another flash, but no movement.
Niyah looked down at the broken crate again and realized it wasn’t completely empty. Inside was a pile of something soft and downy. What was that?
Kneeling down, she reached a shaky hand into the crate and pulled out a handful of feathers. Feathers? There were several large grayish-brown feathers and one huge auburn wing feather, as broad as her hand! She ran her fingers along its soft spines and contemplated.
OK, it probably hadn’t been Jeremiah inside that crate. Rather, it appeared to have been some kind of bird in there. A big one. She wished she’d paid more attention in her ornithology classes.
Anyway, it wasn’t Jeremiah. But did this bird have something to do with him? With his disappearance? There was only one way to find out. She knew she needed to follow that bird. No matter how scared she was, finding Jeremiah was more important.
Niyah dropped the feathers and looked toward where she’d seen movement along the ravine wall. It looked quite rough. Great sandstone slabs were jumbled all over and in between them the scrub oak and cacti were thick and twisted together. That would be a chore in the dark. Perhaps there was a flashlight in that truck. And some water.
She climbed back up to the truck and went to the passenger side. The door was popped open and she was able to pull it back to crawl inside. Soda bottles, cigarette cartons, and papers were strewn about the ceiling. The ceiling that was now the floor. She shuffled through the trash for a moment looking for a flashlight or a water bottle, careful not to brush against the dead body. She found none of what she was searching for, but something clutched in the driver’s hand caught her eye. Almost dreading to look, she brushed a sheet of paper away and gasped.
It was a golden tube about the size of a straw. It was old and mostly dull, but a few spots had been rubbed clean and glittered brightly in the moonlight. The driver’s fingers were wrapped tightly around it and his arm was fully extended, as though he were saving a puppy from a raging flood.
Timorously she pinched the end of the tube between her thumb and forefinger and slid it from the driver’s grasp. She crawled backwards out of the cab and backpedaled a few steps.
Before she could inspect it further, however, she heard the thunder again. Only this time, it sounded further away. Flashlight or no, she had to go, before the bird or whatever it was got too far away! She shoved the tube into her pocket and ran.
The scramble through the brush turned out to be easier than she expected and she soon found herself cresting the rim of the ravine. As she came out on top of the plateau the smell of rain became overpowering. The thunder cracked louder than ever. The light flashed brighter. Just as she blinked she thought she saw a massive black cloud rise up into the sky. When her eyes re-opened nothing was there. She looked up and for a split second she thought she saw a few stars disappear into a void. But she blinked again and the stars returned.
The smell of rain quickly faded.
A voice boomed through the night.
“Don’t move!”
Around ten o’clock they passed through the town of Moab. Mexican restaurants and steak joints were just flicking off their “OPEN” signs. Patrons heading to their cars or hotels peeked in the dark windows of gift shops and mountain bike-rental places. An entourage of lifted Jeeps, decked out with bright lights, winches and big tires, cruised slowly in the right lane. When the only stoplight in town turned yellow up ahead, the Jeeps went even slower.
The blue flatbed got in the left lane. Niyah, trying to appear innocuous, stayed behind the Jeeps and planned to change lanes and pass when the light turned green.
But then the light turned red and the flatbed went right through the intersection! Several nearby vehicles honked angrily; Niyah panicked. She swerved into the left lane but came to a stop at the solid red.
She impatiently slapped the steering wheel with her palm. She looked left and right, wondering if she should run it. Just as she was about to do it, the light turned green. She gunned her tiny engine and passed the leisurely train of 4x4’s. But the flatbed was out of sight.
She sped up the highway for a few minutes, peering about for any sign of it. Up ahead on the right, a high ridge glowed amber beneath the moonlight. She could faintly see a ribbon of road winding up its side but no headlights ascending. Then she saw it…a pair of taillights!
The taillights were near where the ribbon of road intersected the highway, amidst a cluster of buildings. A sign indicated that this was the main entrance to…Arches National Park! There was a visitor center, a maintenance building, and a guard house all dark. And the entrance gates were up. This must be it!
But the blue truck passed the road. It didn’t even slow down!
Niyah’s heart fell. Her confidence was gone. This was Arches! Why hadn’t the truck turned in? Should she keep following it or should she abandon it and turn into the park? Hadn’t Ollie said the National Park was the key?
All these thoughts flashed through her head in a matter of seconds. At the last instant, she decided to keep following the flatbed. She seemed strangely drawn to it. And besides, she could always turn around and come back to the National Park. So, with the wheel gripped firmly beneath her knuckles, she continued following and wondered if she had made the right decision.
Fifteen minutes later, her gamble proved right. The high ridge quickly became flatlands and into them a dirt road veered off to the right. Beside it, an old sign read, “National Forest Access—Klondike Bluffs. National Parks Pass Required For Entry. High clearance 4x4 vehicles only.”
And the blue truck turned onto it.
Niyah knew she couldn’t be obvious so she drove past it without reducing speed, went over the next hill, and stopped in a gravel pullout. She turned her headlights off and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. When she could make out the center yellow line, she checked for traffic, flipped a u-turn, and slowly drove back to the dirt road.
The blue truck was already a half-mile away. She could see its headlights jouncing and flicking this way and that as it navigated the rough terrain.
She drove twenty yards onto the road, pulled to the side, and turned off her engine. Then she smiled.
This was all meant to be. Sure, her car was too low to drive on the rough road. But her bike wasn’t. And miraculously, her mountain bike just happened to be strapped to the trunk. Quickly she changed from her sandals into tennis shoes. Then she unstrapped the bike and hopped on.
As she pedaled, she guessed she could go nearly as fast as the truck on this narrow, rocky road. The night air was cool and energizing. She pedaled hard and tried not to think about what she would do when she discovered where that flatbed was headed.
Suddenly a spine-tingling sound rent the night. Worse than fingernails on a chalkboard, she heard metal grating against rock. An engine roared and then abruptly stopped. Then silence but for the crunch of her tires on gravel.
Up ahead the road took a sharp left turn then disappeared into a narrow ravine. She could tell that the road went upwards, so she down shifted her bike in preparation to climb. But as she approached the turn, a most out of place odor hit her nose.
Rain.
It smelled like rain.
Then a flash of light briefly illuminated the landscape and the silence was cracked by the sound of thunder. She looked at the starry sky in shock and confirmed there wasn’t a single cloud! What was going on?
She put her fingers on the brake but didn’t squeeze, in order to carry as much speed up the hill as possible. She leaned into the turn, came around, and looked up the hill.
The blue truck had rolled over!
She squeezed the brakes and skidded to a stop. Just ahead, the trail ascended steeply over a garden of pumpkin-sized boulders with a deep rut eroded into the shoulder of the trail. It looked like the heavy truck had slipped off the boulders into the rut, and had rolled on its roof.
The cab was crushed! One of the tires still turned slowly. White steam rose from the chassis.
Niyah jumped off her bike and ran up to the cab. The only occupant was the driver, a rough looking sort with stubbly jaw and sunken eyes. His neck was pinned between the roof and the steering wheel, literally crushed. Dead.
She turned away, and vomited into a thicket of junipers. She stayed doubled over while putrescence drizzled out of the corner of her mouth.
Finally, she spit. Then she spit again. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, stood up, and held her head in her hands. She had to focus. The driver wasn’t important. She was here to find Jeremiah. So…where was that crate?
She saw it, behind her, down the hill a little ways. In her hurry to get to the truck, she had run right past it. It had rolled across a patch of cacti and come to a stop in a stand of barren scrub oak. As she scrambled down to it the scent of rain returned, growing ever stronger. On reflex, she took a deep breath and savored the smell. Exciting. Invigorating. Dangerous.
Yes, dangerous. For now, at the crate, she glanced about nervously. One side of the wood was broken and the inside gaped open. Empty. Whatever had been inside was now out.
And whatever had been inside was alive, evident by the scrape-marks leading away from it.
“Jeremiah?” she called out shakily.
Thunder rolled again. Another flash of light brightened the ravine for a half second. In the spark, she saw something move along the wall of the ravine!
“Jeremiah?” she called again. “It’s Miss Niyah! Honey, if you can hear me, yell or something! So I can find you!”
More thunder and another flash, but no movement.
Niyah looked down at the broken crate again and realized it wasn’t completely empty. Inside was a pile of something soft and downy. What was that?
Kneeling down, she reached a shaky hand into the crate and pulled out a handful of feathers. Feathers? There were several large grayish-brown feathers and one huge auburn wing feather, as broad as her hand! She ran her fingers along its soft spines and contemplated.
OK, it probably hadn’t been Jeremiah inside that crate. Rather, it appeared to have been some kind of bird in there. A big one. She wished she’d paid more attention in her ornithology classes.
Anyway, it wasn’t Jeremiah. But did this bird have something to do with him? With his disappearance? There was only one way to find out. She knew she needed to follow that bird. No matter how scared she was, finding Jeremiah was more important.
Niyah dropped the feathers and looked toward where she’d seen movement along the ravine wall. It looked quite rough. Great sandstone slabs were jumbled all over and in between them the scrub oak and cacti were thick and twisted together. That would be a chore in the dark. Perhaps there was a flashlight in that truck. And some water.
She climbed back up to the truck and went to the passenger side. The door was popped open and she was able to pull it back to crawl inside. Soda bottles, cigarette cartons, and papers were strewn about the ceiling. The ceiling that was now the floor. She shuffled through the trash for a moment looking for a flashlight or a water bottle, careful not to brush against the dead body. She found none of what she was searching for, but something clutched in the driver’s hand caught her eye. Almost dreading to look, she brushed a sheet of paper away and gasped.
It was a golden tube about the size of a straw. It was old and mostly dull, but a few spots had been rubbed clean and glittered brightly in the moonlight. The driver’s fingers were wrapped tightly around it and his arm was fully extended, as though he were saving a puppy from a raging flood.
Timorously she pinched the end of the tube between her thumb and forefinger and slid it from the driver’s grasp. She crawled backwards out of the cab and backpedaled a few steps.
Before she could inspect it further, however, she heard the thunder again. Only this time, it sounded further away. Flashlight or no, she had to go, before the bird or whatever it was got too far away! She shoved the tube into her pocket and ran.
The scramble through the brush turned out to be easier than she expected and she soon found herself cresting the rim of the ravine. As she came out on top of the plateau the smell of rain became overpowering. The thunder cracked louder than ever. The light flashed brighter. Just as she blinked she thought she saw a massive black cloud rise up into the sky. When her eyes re-opened nothing was there. She looked up and for a split second she thought she saw a few stars disappear into a void. But she blinked again and the stars returned.
The smell of rain quickly faded.
A voice boomed through the night.
“Don’t move!”
Congratulations on the news gig!
ReplyDeleteI like the single train of thought in part 4 vs. the jumping we've had in the other portions. I also liked the change of scenery in going from the road/car to the "cliffs of insanity" - a Josh special. Keep the bird. It adds a lunacy to the story and deepens the intrigue. I also like the nonchalant attitude toward the dead driver; yes she pukes, but she doesn't freak out or call the cops.
The pacing seems forced...like you're trying too hard to surprise the reader. Maybe focus more on Niyah's motivations and less on the red light/gold tube/"Don't move!" suspense moments. A good reference would be Stephen King's short story "Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption." King does a fantastic job of building energy through motivations - it is better than the movie and the movie was pretty good.
Yes, congrats on the news gig! That's super cool. I was totally in suspense reading this part and I need more. Now. Thanks. ;-)
ReplyDeleteJosh...this is wonderful! You are gloriously gripping! I will enjoy reading your work! Thanks for stopping by and following...your wife wouldn't be named Emily, would she? You've got a new fan!
ReplyDelete