Korvin eased the brakes on. It had been a long haul, and he was glad to be at the end of it. Although he had been driving for over 12 years now and considered himself the equal of any other driver out there, this particular stretch was quite a challenge. The desert was flat, hot, and unchanging. The road was straight for the better part of 300 kilometers, with perhaps a little bend near the midpoint and then another stretch just as boringly long. No matter how many times he made the pull, he always felt a little groggy by the time he reached the processing facility.
The facility wasn’t much to look at. It surprised him every time he came out this way. A tiny little building out in the middle of nowhere. Not much more than an office with an unloading dock. It didn’t seem possible that it could be much bigger than about twice the size of his trailer. Well, maybe three times, but certainly no bigger. Some of the other truckers had told him that they thought it must have some pretty decent underground expansions, but Korvin couldn’t imagine it. With all this space available out here, why go underground?
He coaxed his truck to a stop at the security gate, waved to the armed guard, and waited as the gate opened for him. Ten years ago it might have struck him as strange that they had this kind of security out here, but nowadays you just couldn’t be too safe, not even out here in the middle of nowhere with nobody around for kilometers. When the gate was fully open he swung his truck around to the unloading area and backed it up to the dock. He hopped out of the cab and strode toward the office to complete the paperwork while the trailer was being unloaded.
Before he could reach the door, it swung open, and a young man he hadn’t seen before stepped out. He handed Korvin a piece of paper and said, “No need to wait for unloading today. You can just drop the trailer and head out.”
That was not the usual routine for this leg. Korvin studied the paper. Sure enough, the instructions were clear. He was to proceed back without the trailer. “Suits me just fine,” he said. “I’d just as soon be headed back.” He went to work unhitching the trailer. He wouldn’t make it back to town tonight, of course. But the more kilometers he could put between himself and this miserable place, the easier the return drive would be the next day.
After the trailer was free, he climbed back into his cab and pulled slowly away, watching carefully to ensure that he was fully clear. He couldn’t believe his luck. Normally he’d be sitting there for over three hours while the trailer was unloaded. Odd that they didn’t want the trailer returned like normal. He glanced at the paperwork again. That was when he noticed that it hadn’t been signed. He stepped on the brake. This wouldn’t do. He couldn’t believe how close he had come to leaving without getting his deliver signed. He jumped out of the cab and hurried back to the office.
When Korvin entered the small room, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The office was empty. The young man who had given him the papers was nowhere to be seen. He was probably back unloading the trailer. Korvin headed toward the doorway marked Employees Only. The unloading area had to be right beyond there.
He pushed through the door and stopped in his tracks. The young man was on a forklift, driving into the back of the trailer. Korvin stared for a few moments as the forks lowered and the forklift nudged a pallet up. He couldn’t believe his eyes. If he had known what was in his trailer, he never would have delivered it. But he didn’t have time to consider that. The forklift began backing up, and Korvin ducked back through the door he had come in. His heart was pounding in his chest and his mouth was suddenly dry. Had he been seen? What could he do?
He hurried back to the office entrance. Should he stand at the door and pretend he hadn’t seen anything? Should he run back to his truck and take off for home? He stood in front of the door, his hand outstretched, just centimeters from the handle. But he was frozen in place. He had no idea what to do. The door in front of him suddenly swung open, and the security guard appeared, his rifle clutched at his side.
“Sir, you need to leave,” the guard told him bruskly.
“Sorry,” he said. His eyes must be wild. The guard had to know, just by looking at him, that he knew what was in the trailer. He thrust the paper out to the guard. “Sorry, I need this signed before I go.”
The guard took the paper, looked at it for a moment, and then studied Korvin’s face again. Time seemed to stand still. Finally he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pen. He signed the paper, and handed it back to Korvin, who took it, stammered, “Thanks,” and pushed past the guard out the door. He practically ran to his truck, climbed in, and started it up.
He drove for an hour before his heart rate returned to normal.
Way to build up a bitter hate between you and your audience. You can’t just not say what was in the trailer! (Double negative, I know.) In any case, I’m going to assume it was KY Jelly until I’m told otherwise.
Yeah, I hate it when I read something where the point of view character knows something and performs actions that make sense only based on that knowledge but the reader is kept in the dark. That’s a pretty cheap trick, if you ask me.