The tires of Char’s rig were loud as they crunched over the gravel of the warehouse lot. The truck rolled to an easy stop, and she let out a groan as she read the large sign on the wall beside the door marked “Receiving.”
“Of course they’re closed on weekends.” With the ease of long habit, she pulled out the yellow air brake knob to set the brakes with a pop and hiss of air, then slapped the shifter to make sure the big truck was in neutral. The lot was large and mostly empty. There was one other eighteen-wheeler backed in at one corner of the lot, a red long-nosed Peterbilt with a chrome bumper. Its driver was walking his dog on the grass strip between the gravel and the rusty chain-link fence. The paved employee lot near the glass office door was empty, and the lights were off.
The warehouse was an old one, half brick, and half steel beams and metal siding. The loading area was an open-air dock, essentially a concrete ledge along the side of the building raised high enough for trucks to back against for loading and unloading. A concrete pad sloped slightly down from the gravel lot to the base of the dock. Aside from a couple of stacks of pallets, the dock was empty, and the big rolling doors that led into the building were shut.
Char shut off the engine and got out, easily scrambling down the steps despite her short stature. Being only five-foot-two made some aspects of the job difficult, but she’d been driving long enough that she’d adapted or found workarounds for most of them. The wind whipped dust from the gravel lot into her face and pushed her brown hair into her eyes, so she bundled it up as she walked and fished a hair tie from her pocket. She made a quick ponytail as she stepped up closer to the sign by the door and double-checked the hours posted there. She’d been given a Sunday delivery appointment, which wasn’t odd. Lots of warehouses were seven-day-a-week affairs. Being closed on the weekend was the exception rather than the rule, but she’d read it right. They wouldn’t be open to receive her load until Monday at 7 am, according to the sign. She glanced around the lot as she considered her options.
The guy walking the dog looked friendly enough. A woman driving alone had to be careful about these sorts of things, but she needed more information, and he looked to be the only source at hand. The dog seemed to be well cared for and happy; its tail was wagging so hard that its whole rear end moved with it. If he’s good to his dog, then he can’t be that bad, she thought. She started heading that way.
When she was closer, she waved a hand in greeting, then motioned to the dog. It was tiger-striped, an orange and brown brindled pit bull with a huge doggy grin. The breed had a bad reputation, but Char had been around dogs enough in her life to know that not all animals fit their stereotype, much like people. It was always better to ask, though. “Hi. Is she friendly?”
“Lulu? Yeah, worst damage you’ll get from her is drool spots and bruised shins.” The dog’s owner grinned and pointed to Lulu’s tail, which was thwapping against his leg. The man was older, maybe in his mid-50s to early 60s. He had a thick gray beard and friendly eyes. “Name’s Steve, and this here dangerous beastie is Lucifer. Lulu for short.” He motioned towards the warehouse, “Guess you haven’t delivered here before?”
Char shook her head. “Nope, dispatch had me delivering today. They didn’t do their homework. I’m Charlotte, Char for short.” She took a few steps closer and crouched down a bit to let Lulu sniff her hand before petting her. “Are they OK about overnight parking?”
“Yeah, just back in here next to me. There’s a Porta-John around the corner of the building. Somebody’ll come out and knock on your door when they’re ready to receive in the morning. Around seven, usually.”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“Good deal,” Char said, as she gave an ecstatic Lulu ear scritches. “So, how did a sweetie like this end up with a name like Lucifer?”
“My idiot nephew,” Steve said with a long-suffering sigh. “He bought her from a shady breeder. Didn’t even realize she was female when he named her, and he also didn’t know that his lease had a no pets policy and his town had an ordinance against pit bulls. He barely owned her two weeks before I got a call from him. He had to get rid of her or she’d be confiscated and put down.” He shrugged. “So, I took her. Didn’t care for the name he gave her, but she was already used to it, so I just shortened it a bit. I don’t think he even wanted a dog, really. He just wanted to look like a tough guy for his idiot friends. Been two years now, and she’s a good co-pilot. She makes me get out of the truck and get a little exercise. If he’d kept her, she probably would have ended up being one of those horror stories you hear about in the news.”
“Well, I’m glad you two found each other, then.” Char stood, grimacing a bit as her knee ached. Thirty-two is too young for my joints to be going bad already, she thought. Driving a truck wasn’t exactly good for her health. She searched for a polite way to end the encounter. Trucking is a lonely life, and she was all too used to drivers who would take advantage of any opportunity to talk someone’s ear off. Steve seemed to be heading in that direction, and she still had to get parked and let her dispatcher know about the delay with the delivery. She felt like she always overthought social situations, hesitated too long, and left too many pauses. She worried about saying something weird because she spent too much time in her own head, and not enough time interacting with real people.
The silence started to stretch, but before the awkwardness could creep in, Steve spoke again, “So, you been driving long? I’ve been out here nearly thirty years. Keep thinkin’ I’ll retire soon, but never seem to actually get there.”
“Almost ten years now. My husband and I started together, drove team, until…” The painful hitch in her thoughts was still there, and her words faded, but she pushed through, “He, uh, passed away about three years ago. I’ve been solo ever since. I’ll probably do like you, drive until I can’t.”
“Sorry to hear about your husband.” Steve’s voice was kind and a little sad. “My wife passed about fifteen years ago. Been on my own ever since.” He hesitated, then came to a decision and pushed on, “Listen, I know you don’t know me, and free advice is only worth what you pay for it, but take it from someone who knows: don’t let that truck become your whole life. If you do, then before you know it, you’ll be looking back on a life that was nothing but miles with very few smiles.”
Char looked back at her truck, frowning, “Time does seem to slip away out here, doesn’t it? I keep meaning to take a vacation, but never seem to actually get around to doing it.” Lulu pushed her nose under Char’s hand, flipping it up in a very clear message to keep up the pets. Char smiled, “Sorry, Lulu, didn’t mean to ignore you.” The dog’s antics broke the serious mood, and Char chuckled. “I’d better go get my truck parked. Thank you, Steve. I’ll remember what you said.”
With a smile for Steve and one last scritch for Lulu, Char turned to head back to her truck, turning over Steve’s advice in her head. It was too easy to let life slip by, day by day, mile by mile. She’d thrown herself into her job after Ty’s death. The truck had been her escape, her distraction. Keeping her mind on the road and the job meant she didn’t have to think about the hurt, the hole in her life. She devoured audiobook after audiobook so she didn’t have to live in the real world, where the pain and loneliness were. Eventually, the pain had scabbed over. It was never fully gone, but it didn’t linger constantly like it had, and the truck had become a habit. Driving was what she knew, and the rest of her life had fallen away. It was definitely time for that vacation.
It didn’t take her long to get the big rig maneuvered around and backed in parallel to Steve’s big Pete. She set the brake and changed her duty status. She was thinking over what was in the storage cubby that she could fix for dinner as she reached for the phone to call her dispatcher when, with an odd vibration and a high-pitched whine, the whole world suddenly went white.
