Date: 08/05/2022 - Upvotes : 109 - Words : 1936
The Organix Chapter 3 CLiFRD
What you are about to read is the 3rd chapter of my original fiction story that I've had dancing around in my head. I have been pessimist about writing it for the bigger part of a decade. Two years ago when I first joined Hive I went ahead and published the Epilogue and Chapters 1 and 2. Yes its a story about time travel so I started with the end.
I had also planned on a fully produced podcast series for it with voice actors, music and sound effects. But I decided that would be way too of an investment in time and money for something that was just a pet project of mine.
So I started to incorporate it into my TruckinNutz podcast and even stopped doing it. Again because of time and money invested.
This along with the following two chapters are going to be my entries into the Dreemport - Scholar & Scribe - Ecency challenge this month. I am using this as an excuse to push me to want to finish the story.
You will also notice a change in the artwork. The artwork I used on the first 2 chapters and the epilogue was one that I had bought the rights to and edited. When I went to write this chapter I could not find it. Knowing me I probably deleted it somewhere in the last 2 years. So I have changed up the artwork with an image of one of my favorite trucks I've been lucky enough to drive over the years. My employer gave me permission to take pics of it and use them for what ever I want. It's kinda cool to know you have a boss that actually listens to your podcast (TruckinNutz).
Some quick fun facts:
The truck in the image is a 2007 Freightliner Classic XL.
- 650 HP Detroit Deisel engine
- 13 speed Eaton Fuller transmission
- Can pull 42,000+ lbs of potatoes up a 6% grade dropping only 1 gear and only lose 5 mph.
- Top speed unkown. The numbers on the gauge stopped at 85mph. 🤣
My daughter named the truck "Clifford the Big Red Truck".
Clifford is the truck that I was driving when I first developed the concept of the story.
Now you know where I got the name for CLiFRD.
Now let's get into the story!
Ch. 3 CLiFRD
01/24/2018 06:49 CST
Interstate 30 approaching New Boston, TX
The big ol' Peterbuilt humming along. Holding steady with the cruise control set at 75 mph. Man, he loved this truck. Just then Jimmy notices the flashing strobe lights relecting off the clouds ahead. This stretch of road is relatively flat with a few trees here and there. You can literally see for more than a mile easily at night. With it still being pretty dark this time of year makes it even easier to see emergency lights this time of day.
Jimmy reaches to the stereo and turns down Gun's & Rose's "Mr Brownstone" then reaches for the cb microphone. "Break one nine, how 'bout it east bound? Whats with all these disco lights going on back behind ya?'" The reply came in a deep southern dialect "Well west bound, I dont have no i. d. e. a. whats going on. Just looks like a big smoky bear and meat wagon party going on up on top of that get on ramp. But they all waaaaay off the big road so you can mash that gas and tote that ass, c'mon!"
Jimmy replied "Thank you truck driver! We gonna get on with the get it done." He flips on his turn signal and moves to the left lane since he is approaching slower running trucks. Mumbling to himself about them.
Most large trucking companies govern there trucks to a max speed of 65-70 mph because insurace companies give some pretty steep discounts. Good for the companies profit margin but can pose a traffic restriction in states where the speed limit is higher and traffic moves faster than the trucks can go. Jimmy contiues to mumble while waiting for a 4 wheeler to finish passin him.
Just as he's passing the line of trucks Jimmy hears some thing that sends chills down his spine and makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The unmistakeable sound of metal screeching and scraping.
The blue green tentacles breach the sheet metal wall of the sleeper on the back of the Peterbuilts cab. They are outsid in the open air now. Fighting the wind funnel between the truck and trailer. Finally they find the air & electrial lines and wrap their way around them. Snaking their way to the trailer. They immeadiately go to work cutting and drilling their way inside. Almost as if they are eating their way through the aluminum wall and insulation of the refrigerated trailer.
Back inside the cab, Jimmy franticly reaches for the cb microphone. "Big ol white freight shaker. Did this black Peterbuilt just side swipe you? Thought I heard some metal ripping goin on." "What? No I dont thing you did driver. You doing a good job keeping it on yer side of the road" the freight shaker replied. "I did notice it looked like 'yo air lines were flapping in the wind pretty hard. Maybe they just bangin 'round and you thought it was something else. Slow down a second and I'll take another look if you want me to".
Jimmy kicked off the crusie control by tapping on the brake pedal and the Peterbuilt's staight pipes rumbled down. The two trucks side by side at a steady 65 mph. Both drivers holding their lines like true professionals. Something that most people couldnt do with only4 wheels and two hands on the steering wheel. These guys were driving with thier pinky fingers while one was looking sideways. Truck drivers have done this kind of stuff for decades. One looks over the truck with great detail while the other watches the road ahead. It takes a great deal of trust for the one checking the truck. He is literally putting his life on the line to help and in return the trust is paid back by the other driver watching the road ahead for both of them.
"Nope. Dont see nothing wrong, driver. You sure you didnt hear something on the radio?" "Thank ya sir. I'll check it out up here at the chicken house. They should be closed with all that po-lice action goin on back there. Think they had every cop in the state of Texas back there" Jimmy replied as he stomped his foot back down on the gas pedal and the Peterbuilt roared to life once again.
The tentacles now inside the trailer start opening the boxes while making little mechanical sounding cooing noises. Almost as if they were pleasantly surprised with their findings of approximately 32, 000 pounds of fresh raw chicken. They then dove in as if it was an all you can eat buffet.
30 minutes later Jimmy approaches the chicken house or weigh station as they are officially called. Truck drivers call them chicken houses because the buildings used to look like a small chicken house on an old farm. Another reason is that truck drivers say that the cops just sit in the house like chickens instead of coming out on patrol. Just as Jimmy was almost to the sign the lights started flashing. "Yay"! He sarcasticly excailmes, "I get to be the first customer for the day." He clicks on his right turn signal and begins to decellerate while down shifting.
Suddenly a booming voice. Sounding like a mixture between the worlds worst dial up modem and low frequency crickets. "Dont let them open the trailer." Jimmy, "What the f-" "Dont let them open the trailer!" The color drains from Jimmy's face and he suddenly starts to shake uncontrolably. "Wwwwa Who, who, is that?" "I SAID, Dont let them open the trailer!"
Jimmys now at the scale pad looking down outside the drivers side window at the D.O.T. officer who looks like he just walked off the set of an old cowboy movie, literally. He looks to be in his 70's. "You ok driver? You look a little piked there son." "I'm fine officer. Just one too many cups of truck stop coffee." Jimmy says somewhat shakily. "Well just pull up on the pad then." Jimmy eases out on the clutch and notices that it takes off easier. Kinda like it does when he's pulling an empty trailer. As the truck rolls on to the scale pad the numbers don't match what knows he has loaded in the trailer. Now that he's fully on the pad he can clearly see the numbers . The trailer is definitely empty.
"Well, damn. I could've sworn the road sensor said you were loaded. Guess I gotta call the highway department and have them fix that damn thing again. Go on bout your day, boy. You ain't got no paperwork for me to catch ya on. Oh, and uh stay safe driver. Stay away from that truck stop coffee. That stuffs been known to kill people. Huck, Huck, ye haw." He laughs as he saunters back to the scale house with that old cowboy walk like hes spent way too much time on a horse. "Thank you officer and you have a great day too", Jimmy yells out the window while restarting the truck. Putting the truck in gear and rolling off the scale pad all while eying the digital readout with utter disbelief.
The booming voice again. Sounding much more clear this time but still a mechanical sound to it. "45 miles ahead is a rest area. It should be pretty vacant this time of day. Stop there and I will be ready to reveal everything to you. Do not look behind you." "C'mon man! I'm driving a truck. I have to look behind me!" "No, you dumbass! You can look behind the truck in the mirrors. Just dont look in the sleeper" the voiced boomed. "You better not be eating my tater chips. I'll kick your ass". Jimmy says with an extremely nervous grin. "Zip it, meat bag." the voice boomed back.
As more tentacles began to slowly creep around the inside of the sleeper of the trucks cab. The ones in trailer began to recoil back inside the truck. All this going on behind Jimmy's back as he is driving and doing his best to not turn around and look. This was going to be the longest 45 miles of his life.
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