Greg Bear by Tangents (epub)

Author:Tangents (epub)
Format: epub
Published: 2022-08-09T00:00:00+00:00

Dead Run

T

here aren’t many hitchhikers on the road to Hell.

I noticed this dude from four miles away. He stood where the road is straight and level, crossing what looks like desert except it has all these little empty towns and motels and shacks. I had been on the road for about six hours and the folks in the cattle trailers behind me had been quiet for the last three—resigned, I guess—so my nerves had settled a bit and I decided to see what the dude was up to. Maybe he was one of the employees. That would be interesting, I thought.

Truth to tell, once the wailing settled down, I got pretty bored.

The dude was on the right-hand side of the road, thumb out. I piano-keyed down the gears and the air brakes hissed and squealed at the tap of my foot. The semi slowed and the big diesel made that gut-deep dinosaur-belch of shuddered-downness. I leaned across the cab as everything came to a halt and swung the door open.

“Where you heading?” I asked.

He laughed and shook his head, then spit on the soft shoulder. “I don’t know,” he said. “Hell, maybe.” He was thin and tanned with long greasy black hair and bluejeans and a vest. His straw hat was dirty and full of holes, but the feathers around the crown were bright and new-looking, pheasant if I was any judge. A worn gold chain hung out of his vest going into his watch pocket. He wore old Frye boots with the toes turned up and soles thinner than my spare’s retread. He looked an awful lot like I had when I hitchhiked out of Fresno, broke and unemployed, looking for work.

“Can I take you there?” I asked.

“Sho’.” He climbed in and eased the door shut behind him, took out a kerchief and mopped his forehead, then blew his long nose and stared at me with bloodshot sleepless eyes. “What you hauling?” he asked.

“Souls,” I said. “Whole shitload of them.”

“What kind?” He was young, not more than twenty-five. He wanted to sound nonchalant but I could hear the nerves.

“Usual kind,” I said. “Human. Got some Hare Krishnas this time. Don’t look too close anymore.”

I coaxed the truck along, wondering if the engine was as bad as it sounded. When we were up to speed—eighty, eighty-five, no smokies on this road—he asked, “How long you been hauling?”

“Two years.”

“Good pay?”

“It’ll do.”

“Benefits?”

“Union like everyone else.”

“I heard about that,” he said. “In that little dump about two miles back.”

“People live there?” I asked. I didn’t think anything lived along the road.

“Yeah. Real down folks. They said Teamster bosses get carried in limousines when they go.”

“Don’t really matter how you get there, I suppose. The trip’s short and forever is a long time.”

“Getting there’s all the fun?” he asked, trying for a grin. I gave him a shallow one.

“What’re you doing out here?” I asked a few minutes later. “You aren’t dead, are you?” I’d never heard of dead folks running loose or looking quite as vital as he did but I couldn’t imagine anyone else being on the road.

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