Remnants: A Collection by Clayton Snyder

Author:Clayton Snyder
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror, fantasy, short fantasy, short horror

Old Dominion

Will Herne noticed the truck sitting on the side of the Route 2 from about a mile away. It was a big thing, at least eighteen wheels, and its flashers were ticking away in the morning light. Orange and red flashed in regular intervals of distress. It was reflected in the low mist that still clung to the grass of the shoulder, the beans of the field, and wound its way between the trunks of the trees of the small copse in the near distance.

A decal on the back of the truck declared it 'Old Dominion Freight: Old World to New'. As he drew nearer, he could see a thin plume of smoke rising from the front of the truck, and the occasional flash of a dark blue shirt as the driver did what he could with whatever disaster he had on his hands. As he approached, the driver stepped out to the side of the vehicle, and waved a red handkerchief.

Will sighed, and looked down at himself. He was dressed in a tuxedo, his shoes still shining. If he was late, his sister would kill him. He ignored the man, and kept driving, but that didn't stop the driver from trying to flag him down a second time, and as he drew nearer, he could see the look of worry on the man's face. There were no other drivers on the road. Will sighed again, and slowed the car, then pulled in behind the truck.

He took a moment to grab his cellphone from the seat beside him, and then he cut the engine. It ticked down in the morning quiet, cooling as the mist curled around the car. The truck driver was approaching, a smile on his face. Will heaved one more sigh, thinking of how pissed Angela was going to be, and got out of the car. He slipped his phone in his pocket, and went out to meet the driver.

The driver was a stocky man in his mid fifties, a short beard clinging to his face, and a trucker cap perched on top of a white head of hair. His eyes were a deep green, and reflected his smile. White embroidery on his dark blue shirt read 'Hank'. He held out a hand as Will approached. Will took it, and found the man's handshake pleasant. Firm without being crushing, and his hand dry despite being in an engine only minutes before. Hank let his hand go.

"Thanks for stopping, uh-"

"Will."

"Thanks for stopping, Will. Know anything about engines?"

"A little." Will said. He eyed the truck. "Maybe not much about this kind, though. But hey, I have a phone-" He dug it out and showed it to Hank. "Figured maybe I could call you some help, or just lend a hand if you needed someone to hold a wrench."

Hank waved a hand at the phone. "Yeah, that won't work here." He waved again, this time at the countryside in general. "Too far out. If you can tell the difference between a Philips head and a flat head though, I can use ya.

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