Darkness surrounded me when I came to -- a thick black just as void of light as the state of unconsciousness that I had occupied for God knows how long. The only reason I was aware that I had awoken at all was the fact that the exposed skin of my arms and neck were freezing cold. My body was stiff and sluggish, my head pounding with a pulsating pain that was nearly crippling.
I was laying in something cold and wet; a cushion of frigid pebbles the softened the shock of a recurring bounce that rattled this strange world I found myself in. Taking a handful of these objects in the dark produced a chill in my palm, then a trickle of liquid running down my wrist. It was ice... small cubes like you'd get from an automatic maker built into a fridge door. They were all slimy and wet, obviously well on their way to melting, even without the influence of my body's heat.
Struggling to sit up, I realized that it felt as though I was moving -- that my entire world was in motion. A few more sharp vertical jolts accompanied by the sounds of rushing air produced by a suspension system at work made it obvious; I was in my trailer -- and we were rolling.
My eyes started to adjust to the darkness, making the faint silhouette of the walls around me visible. I was able to follow the contours to what would've been the rear of the box, just a few feet in front of me. There were two points of light on either side of me there, which represented the drainage holes built into the slotted aluminum floor.
I slid over to one of them and cleared away the ice atop it, then looked down to see concrete flying by underneath. The pavement was dark as well, morning apparently still a ways off. It was passing at a good clip; whomever was at the wheel was apparently in quite a hurry. It must've been Hughes, I assumed -- unless The Phloxans had hijacked another driver from that backwoods stop in Mobile.
It made me wonder why they hadn't done this in the first place... stuffed me in the back and had someone more committed to their cause piloting the rig. Obviously, they'd been aware that it might be necessary to do that. I guess Hughes was serving as a babysitter, there to pull the trigger on Plan B should I figure the whole thing out and decide to act of my own free will; perhaps in a way that was contrary to what they wanted.
Had dashboard Jesus not knocked that contact out of Hughes' eye, I would've been their puppet all the way to the end. They'd done such a good job of pulling the wool over my eyes, I had no idea what their true objective was; even as I watched the world go by through the drainage hole in my trailer.
The purple-eyed folks had kept telling me I needed to get to Dallas... Hughes insisted Cape Canaveral was the appropriate destination. Now that it was clear he was one of them, nothing made any sense.
Were their go to Dallas demands a red herring all along? A ploy to keep me from going there when this Butler guy told me it was the new plan? I guess Butler must've been a good guy after all -- so does that mean The Phloxans really intended for the load to end up in Cape Canaveral the whole time?
Hughes told me that my cargo would be launched from The Cape -- that I would have to ride along with it on the way to destroy The Phloxans... what did he really intend to do with me and my load? Going to The Cape likely meant he was still looking to launch it somewhere... but where?
Whatever his plan was, I figured I wouldn't much like it... if anything he had told me was true, though, I would have to stay pretty close to this thing in my trailer if I hoped --
Oh God! The thing in my trailer!
In all the confusion my headache caused, I hadn't realized that I must be very close to the creature! Christ, what was it doing?
Was it awake?
Did it know that I was with it?
Hughes had said one of these creatures could stand as tall as sixty feet -- my trailer was just fifty-three long, so this thing must be stuffed in, just inches from me! Maybe I had been on top of it just moments ago, with only a thin blanket of ice separating me from it!
Overtaken by panic, I shot back against the rear door, trying to tuck into the smallest ball my body could possibly form. I looked forward, into the pitch-dark expanse of my trailer -- feeling cramped in what should've been wide open space, I wondered what exactly was in there with me. Wrapping my arms tightly around my chest, I gave myself what I hoped would be a comforting and protective bear hug.
"Please God," I whispered aloud to myself. "Please let it be asleep! Don't let it see me here -- don't let it kill me! Not before I can make sure Sammy is okay!"
In my smothering embrace, I felt something in the breast pocket of my flannel over shirt... it was my lighter and cigarettes. I never remember to take my lighter with me when I leave my truck -- fate must've intervened when I'd gotten out at that stop to smoke, leading me to tuck it into my pocket for a change with this very moment in mind.
Pulling it out, I wrapped both hands around it and wondered if I dared to light it up.
What might its light reveal?
Did I really want to see this -- this thing?
Would the flame alert it to my presence?
Would it decide to squish me like a bug under its mammoth foot when I disturbed its rest?
Curiosity got the better of me; I had to know what it looked like. The lighter had gotten wet when I'd been playing with the ice, so it took nearly a dozen flicks to finally make a spark large enough to ignite.
Its light enveloped me when it finally took, casting flickering rays around me that danced on the white walls eerily. Everything I could see was damp; the ice must've been piled clear to the ceiling, before my reefer gave out.
There was still a good deal of it left; oblong spheres lining the floor and sloping upwards not far from where I sat.
I held the light-giving flame out in front of me, breathing deeply and cautiously in my anxiety. I could faintly see the hill of ice cresting towards what would be the middle of my trailer, reaching nearly the top of the box at its apex. I figured it had to be nine feet high; presumably covering the chest of this Tal-Gashot or whatever it was called. Watching the mound closely, I realized that it was undulating slowly... rising, then falling... the thing was breathing!
The veil of frozen water was white as a wedding dress, not transparent enough for me to see through to what lie beneath. Not far from my bent knee was what appeared to be the point at which the ice first rose from the floor.
This particular mound started near the horizontal center of the trailer and rose out towards either wall, dark forms rising out and growing taller towards the edges. I extended my foot and brushed the debris aside with the toe of my boot to get a clearer picture.
I guess you could call what I saw a foot -- but it was like nothing I'd ever seen before; except maybe as animations in Jurassic Park or some similar movie featuring representations of prehistoric beasts. The outer covering -- the flesh, I guess -- was a light-tan scaly surface decorated with calloused looking bumps and ridges.
Leaning forward, I cleared one of the feet off a little more. It was huge -- probably a full six feet from the thin base at the middle of the truck to the wide pointed end against the wall.
It wasn't broken into toes or anything at the tip -- it was just one, giant, solid flat piece that tapered off in a V shape. The two giant hunks were wedged against one another at their heel, incredible ankles projecting from them and forming massive muscular legs. The calves were probably ten feet around, rising until they reached what I guess were knees - which nearly touched the roof of the trailer.
Column-like thighs lowered back to the floor from there, growing as thick as tree trunks towards what I presume was the waist and torso beyond.
My courage bolstered by curiosity, I touched the skin of the feet... it was rough, cold and hard. It felt like a man's chin, well after five o'clock shadow had set in, but there was no sign of hair. If I had to compare the texture to the flesh of a familiar animal, I'd have to go with that of an elephant or rhino. It wasn't loose or leathery, though -- on the contrary, it was pulled tight like that of a sna
ke. The physiology below it was very solid; like the shell of skin was filled with neatly stacked and mortared bricks inside.
Driven to see more, I stood and walked towards the ridge that was formed when the heels of the two feet came together. The rumbling of the floor beneath me made it feel like I was walking in an adult-sized funhouse, which wasn't a very comforting sensation.
There was a fifteen or twenty foot long chasm beyond the heels, the space between the arched legs. I stepped over the ridge, slowly creeping forward.
A sudden shift in our travel direction, probably a sharp curve in the interstate, caused the overheated metal tip of my lighter to touch my flesh and burn it. I had to release my hold on the button, extinguishing the flame.
"Yeow!" I cried at the pain, shaking my thumb wildly in the once again suffocating darkness.
`As I reeled, I felt and heard a thump that shook the floor beneath me. It froze me, making the stinging ache of my burn nothing more than an afterthought as a wave of terror swept my body. I stood perfectly still, fearing that the jarring was the result of the creature's knee striking the wall -- perhaps at its own behest. If it had decided to come to life now, it couldn't have picked a worse time -- as I was in a precarious position as related to its body. A thigh-master like flexation would flatten me right there.
Thankfully, everything was still -- save the continued steady bouncing of the trailer moving down the road. When my lighter had cooled, I flicked it again to illuminate my world once more. Continuing forward, I reached the spot at which the creature's legs came together.
I realized then that I was face to face with the area in which this thing's asshole would be, if it were built like us. This part of its body was encased in some sort of metal; a huge chastity-belt looking shell, rising at least six feet off the floor, likely weighing several tons.
It almost made me chuckle; I probably would've been underweight had the beast been allowed to ride in the buff... there's no telling what sort of crank lived under those metal drawers, though, if this thing were a male -- probably better to keep it hidden, to spare the dignity of mankind. I'd hate to think that there was a penis anywhere in the universe that was larger than the entirety of my body -- but this one probably would've been.
This -- bit of armor, I guess -- was nearly as wide as my hundred-and-two inch wagon; meaning the creature's waist was at least twenty-feet around. To press on any further, I would've had to climb on the beast... I wasn't going to do that.
Holding the lighter out in front of me and standing on my tippie-toes, I was able to see some of the torso. The skin looked just the same as that on the feet, and it looked as toned as Arnold Schwarzenegger in his heyday.
There appeared to be a set of metallic strap-like adornments running in an X across its chest, over its shoulders. The Keepers had the damned thing dressed like Conan The Barbarian... I wondered if that's how it would've looked when it existed on its own accord.
The chest was cramped between the walls, mammoth arm-like appendages squeezed over top of themselves, bent at the elbows like a hair pin. It looked like they must've used a giant shoe-horn to stuff him in there.
Being so close, I could see that its ribs were, in fact, expanding and contracting once every ten seconds or so. Listening intently, I could hear a deep wheezing -- the damned thing was definitely breathing...
Cupping my free hand over my ear, I could also hear a familiar rumble towards the front of the trailer... it was Big Red's engine, roaring away. I could tell by the tone that we were moving at better than seventy-five miles per hour; too fast, given the weight of this load. Not only were these Phloxans out to kill my son and all of mankind, they were burning up my god damned engine...
Having seen as much as I would be able to, I turned to walk towards the back of the trailer. Suddenly, shadows moved and I heard another thump... Jesus, I think it was this thing's knee slamming into the trailer.
Perhaps a muscle spasm of some sort?
Perhaps the first signs of it emerging from its slumber?
Either way -- I didn't want to be cramped in with it, should it decide it wanted out... I had to do something, but what?
There's no way to open the swing-doors at the back from the inside. Even if I could, we were tearing down the road... jumping out would likely be fatal, and even if I did survive -- it wouldn't last long. This chip they said was in me would activate in short order with this creature speeding away from me.
If I could somehow get Big Red to stop -- perhaps I could regain control of her.
Even then, where would I go?
Was Dallas the desired destination of the 'good guys'?
What would happen to Sammy if I decided to go there?
Whatever I did, I needed to get my hands on my son. I needed to see him, if only to say goodbye. That meant I would have to continue in to Florida -- to find Misses Jan and take Sammy back.
But then what?
Christ, it was so confusing trying to make a plan that sounded half-way reasonable.
If I was really linked to the thing, I would have to go wherever it went. I was determined to be sure that space was not the destination.
The first priority was to get this truck back under my own control. That wasn't going to be easy...
Having reached the rear of the wagon, I noticed a small square of metal mesh in the lower-left area of one of the doors.
Of course! The vent!
There's a little two-foot by one-foot panel within the door of old reefer trailers that can be opened to allow air to flow into the box when necessary. It's hinged, also opened from the outside -- but its latch isn't nearly as strong as the double-locking main door mechanism.
I dropped down on my backside, pressing my feet flat against the mesh screen with my knees bent like those of the monster riding with me. Bracing my arms against the floor behind me, I gave the hatch a few mighty kicks. It took several rounds of effort, but eventually the small door did finally blast open.
Looking through the metal screen, I saw a lone car traveling the road behind us. It was a blue SUV with headlights blaring at my light-deprived eyes -- they should be able to see that the hatch had come open, I figured.
"Hey!" I shouted, trying to get the driver's attention. "Hey, I need help in here!"
It didn't seem to be working; the car stayed right where it was, showing no signs of noticing the flapping vent cover or hearing my desperate cries.
I sat back again, bracing myself for another barrage of kicks at the mesh. Putting all of my weight behind the blows, I was able to bust out a portion of the screen. I kicked a few more times, opening a hole large enough to stick one of my arms out.
"Help!" I belted out again as I shoved my right arm through the jagged metal to the elbow. "Please, help me!"
The car fell back a bit at first, then sped back up and drew closer.
He saw me!
I waived at him to come even closer, looking out to see the hero that might come to my rescue. It was an elderly man at the wheel, a similarly aged lady riding shotgun as they studied the scene with their mouths agape.
"Stop this truck!" I cried, pointing my finger to the side on which I hoped they'd pass.
The man mouthed oh my God and merged to his left, speeding forward to intercept Big Red. I heard the honking of its horn -- he was trying to get whomever was driving the rig to notice.
It worked! -- or so I thought...
Just a few seconds after the car had left my field of vision, I heard a rapid pop -- pop followed by the squealing of tires, then a smash. The blue vehicle reappeared, scraping against the far wall of the road and slowing greatly as it did. There were bullet holes in the windshield -- spatters of blood now painting it red.
Shit!
Another car appeared, a black sedan this time, slowing down beside us and dropping into our lane directly behind the truck. There were two passengers in this one as well --
their glowing eyes looking even more sinister than usual when married with the evil smiles they wore.
It was pretty clear at this point; I wasn't going to get out of this trailer -- not until it was exactly where The Phloxans wanted it.
Whatever stand I was going to make, it would have to take place on their terms... the odds seemed to be stacked heavily against overcoming their will. I would try, though -- with everything that I am.
Chapter 24