Crimson Highway David Wickenhauser (beach read book TXT) 📖

“OK. I can do that,” Hugh said.

They finished their meal, and got back into the truck. Hugh pulled out onto the highway.

During a periodic sweep of his mirrors he noticed something wrong. It appeared that one of the trailer doors had become unlatched, and was swinging open on the curves.

“Uh-oh. Gotta stop and fix something,” Hugh said, regretting that he hadn’t done a quick pre-trip at the truck stop before pulling out. “Looks like someone has tampered with the trailer.”

He scanned ahead for a place to pull over. This was an area of wide-open rolling hills and wheat fields, so it wasn’t too much longer before he found a spot on the shoulder wide enough to accompany his truck.

He turned off the engine, and set the brake, then climbed down to see what the problem was with the door. Jenny climbed down to accompany him.

They both rounded the tail end of the trailer at the same time. Hugh immediately spotted the broken seal, and saw that the right-hand trailer door had been deliberately unlatched.

Not again.

“I’ve got to check out the load. Make sure it hasn’t been tampered with,” he told Jenny, then climbed up into the back of the trailer. Jenny followed, hopping up adroitly. Hugh looked at her disapprovingly.

Jenny shrugged her shoulders. “I’m curious what it’s like inside one of these things,” she said.

While Hugh and Jenny were looking over the load, they had failed to hear a car pull off of the highway onto the same shoulder where they had parked.

Suddenly, the bright sun that was pouring in and illuminating the inside of the trailer got cut off as the trailer door swung shut. Hugh heard the latch slamming into locked position. Now, the only illumination was a dim light from the translucent plastic roof.

“Hey! What’s going on!” Hugh shouted, as he ran to the trailer door and began pounding on it.

“That’s not funny! Let us out!” Jenny screamed at whomever had shut them in.

Then they heard, “Your ass is mine.” And cold chills ran up and down Hugh’s spine. Jenny’s uncle. But how?

 Hugh looked at Jenny. “How on earth?”

Jenny merely shrugged.

So far, the truck hadn’t moved. Hugh asked Jenny if any of the hijackers knew how to drive a big rig.

“A couple of them do … did,” she answered, remembering that there were only two left. “Some of them had to know, so they could drive away the rigs that they had hijacked.”

Hugh’s shoulders sagged in defeat. Chances were that at least one of the remaining hijackers was a driver.

“What are we going to do now?” Jenny asked Hugh. “Can we get out of here?”

“I don’t think so. Those latches and door hinges are made to take punishment. There’s no way we can just push that door open against the locks.”

Then he had a thought. “Wait a minute! Do you have that cell phone I gave you?”

Jenny brightened at that, and then immediately sagged. “I did bring it, but I left it on the dash before I went to use the restroom.”

“Great,” Hugh exclaimed.

Then they heard the truck’s engine come to life.

“Uh-oh,” they both said at the same time.

“Here we go,” Hugh said, as the rig started forward, and pulled onto the highway. Hugh grimaced as the inexperienced driver ground his gears getting the truck up to highway speed.

“How many do you think there are?” Hugh asked Jenny.

“I’m not sure. I know they are down to my uncle and one friend left. But, they could have picked up others somewhere.”

“I wish we could see outside,” Hugh said, then added, “Listen, Jenny, just thinking out loud here, but we need to consider what’s going to happen when we get to wherever they are taking us.”

Jenny looked at him to go on.

“There’s a very strong possibility they are going somewhere where they, and a bunch of accomplices, could open the trailer door and charge in at us, or …” Hugh held his thought, because he was afraid to say what he was thinking.

“Or what? Hugh.”

“They know what I am capable of. And I believe they are afraid of me. What I think they will do—what I’m positive they will do, in fact—is open the trailer door, and spray this whole area with gunfire until they know we are both dead. Your uncle definitely indicated he has no concern for you anymore. So, your being here won’t stop them.”

“Can’t we protect ourselves? Somehow?” Jenny asked.

“You got an Uzi in your pocket?” Hugh asked her, not expecting an answer. “No, we’ve got to get out of here—and before they get to where they are going,” he added.

Jenny looked around. “How?”

“I don’t know yet. But, I’m sure there is a way.”

Hugh looked around the inside of the trailer to see what might be available. Glancing up, he considered the plastic roof. The ceiling was about five feet above the top of the pallets of beer.

He hopped onto one of the pallets and put his shoulder to the ceiling. It gave slightly, bowing with the flexibility of the plastic, but he knew that no amount of pressure he could bear on it would cause it to break. As strong as he was—and he was stronger than the average guy—he just simply could not get enough leverage.

Then he thought of his knife. He struck at the plastic, but the quarter-inch thickness could not be penetrated by the blade. And, again, he couldn’t find the leverage to give it a real good whack.

Hopping down off of the pallet, he looked at Jenny. “Have you got any ideas?”

Jenny looked around again.

“What’s this?” she asked Hugh, pointing to a bar that was stretched horizontally from one wall to the other about three feet from the floor to keep the last