01-14-2018, 06:48 PM
There was no reason to panic. No reason. Sure, dad was gone. There was no cell signal. Radio was out of distance now. The temperature would plummet after sunset to temperatures that could kill, even if he huddled down inside the truck cabin for the night. But this wasn't the worst situation he'd ever found himself in. No reason to panic.
It was like a switch flipped in his mind. A calm snow began to fall, soft and quiet. It was rather peaceful. Jay's eyes slid low and he systematically went through a checklist of things in his mind that could explain the failure. That's when he remembered the morning. The truck wouldn't shift into reverse gear. Transmission fluid. He meant to add more tonight, but he really didn't have a clue the transmission itself was failing. His jaw clenched. Was the whole farm falling apart?
Alright. Transmission going out didn't mean he was totally stranded. But that didn't explain why it wouldn't start. He waited a few more moments then turned the key rapidly in the ignition in and out of start position. Then, with a silent prayer on his lips, turned it into the engine and worked the gas pedal, and listened carefully.
The dashboard lights flickered. The engine growled. Alright. Not a total disaster yet. He took a deep breath, pulled on his gloves, and climbed back out into the winter air. Snow fell like soft fluffs of cotton on his shoulders. It was rather nice. Dad's truck had rumbled well out of earshot by then. The cattle were quiet. The complete isolation was rather welcome. So long as he didn't freeze to death. He'd prefer to avoid that.
A hammer and pliers later, he tightened the battery cables and returned to the cab. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when the engine turned over. "Alright girl. You have to get me out of here. Let's just get into one little gear. Easy as that. No reason to panic."
He pat the dashboard, clenched his jaw and focused.
His eyes glazed into a far distant sightlessness and operated under the control of all the other senses. He didn't smell the sweet, fruity scent of transmission fluid. No burning fumes. His foot on the clutch was controlled. His other fell down upon the accelerator. The engine revved, and he shifted. "Come on, baby."
And shifted. The gears grinded into position. Then the moment his fingers felt that sweet vibration, he pushed it into gear and touched the accelerator. His heart stopped, afraid to take a breath. The truck rolled forward a few feet. Then lurched to a halt. The gear slipped. "SHIT."
He pulled it back and tried again.
An hour later, the truck had moved a good half mile, but at this pace, it was going to take days to get home. He was dangerously low on gasoline. All the revving of the engine was burning through it like a hot knife through butter.
There were three clear options. He glanced at the fuel tank dial. There was probably enough gasoline to last a few hours with the engine running and heat on. Surely someone would realize he didn't come home and come back looking for him. Dad was going home, though. Right? The hesitation in his voice when he said they'd see one another there wasn't a good sign. He should have asked what he meant by that. If dad went somewhere other than home, although there was literally no where to go but home, then he'd not be aware if Jay didn't show up. Mom wouldn't know where he was, and he'd kill dad if she ended up spending the night searching for him.
Second option. Take off on foot. Probably best to take the guns. He'd not fare well against a pack of hungry coyotes in the middle of the night. That was, of course, if he made it somewhere before the cold took him down. He had no delusions. It was cold enough to kill him, but Jay wasn't too keen on dying tonight.
That left option number 3. Keep revving the truck, attempt to keep it in first gear, burn through gasoline, potentially lose the heat, and try to make it as far as possible.
He glanced at the wallet, frowned, and remembered he had cell signal about half way back to the house. So he just had to make it half way. Option number 3 it was.
Unfortunately, he didn't make it that far. When the engine lurched to a stop the last time and the dashboard lights all died, Jay knew this wasn't going to end well. He finished off the last of his water, bundled up, and checked the time one last time. Nearly midnight. Dad obviously hadn't gone home. Where ever the hell he was, Jay was for damned sure going to find out. Kind of an ironic turn of events. He was on the opposite side of that reaction practically every Friday night in high school.
He slung the rifle over his shoulder, tucked the firearm into a pocket, pulled the shotgun to his hands and pushed headfirst into the darkness, leaving the truck behind. He liked that old truck but not enough to use it for a coffin.
Edited by Jay Carpenter, Jan 14 2018, 06:57 PM.
It was like a switch flipped in his mind. A calm snow began to fall, soft and quiet. It was rather peaceful. Jay's eyes slid low and he systematically went through a checklist of things in his mind that could explain the failure. That's when he remembered the morning. The truck wouldn't shift into reverse gear. Transmission fluid. He meant to add more tonight, but he really didn't have a clue the transmission itself was failing. His jaw clenched. Was the whole farm falling apart?
Alright. Transmission going out didn't mean he was totally stranded. But that didn't explain why it wouldn't start. He waited a few more moments then turned the key rapidly in the ignition in and out of start position. Then, with a silent prayer on his lips, turned it into the engine and worked the gas pedal, and listened carefully.
The dashboard lights flickered. The engine growled. Alright. Not a total disaster yet. He took a deep breath, pulled on his gloves, and climbed back out into the winter air. Snow fell like soft fluffs of cotton on his shoulders. It was rather nice. Dad's truck had rumbled well out of earshot by then. The cattle were quiet. The complete isolation was rather welcome. So long as he didn't freeze to death. He'd prefer to avoid that.
A hammer and pliers later, he tightened the battery cables and returned to the cab. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when the engine turned over. "Alright girl. You have to get me out of here. Let's just get into one little gear. Easy as that. No reason to panic."
He pat the dashboard, clenched his jaw and focused.
His eyes glazed into a far distant sightlessness and operated under the control of all the other senses. He didn't smell the sweet, fruity scent of transmission fluid. No burning fumes. His foot on the clutch was controlled. His other fell down upon the accelerator. The engine revved, and he shifted. "Come on, baby."
And shifted. The gears grinded into position. Then the moment his fingers felt that sweet vibration, he pushed it into gear and touched the accelerator. His heart stopped, afraid to take a breath. The truck rolled forward a few feet. Then lurched to a halt. The gear slipped. "SHIT."
He pulled it back and tried again.
An hour later, the truck had moved a good half mile, but at this pace, it was going to take days to get home. He was dangerously low on gasoline. All the revving of the engine was burning through it like a hot knife through butter.
There were three clear options. He glanced at the fuel tank dial. There was probably enough gasoline to last a few hours with the engine running and heat on. Surely someone would realize he didn't come home and come back looking for him. Dad was going home, though. Right? The hesitation in his voice when he said they'd see one another there wasn't a good sign. He should have asked what he meant by that. If dad went somewhere other than home, although there was literally no where to go but home, then he'd not be aware if Jay didn't show up. Mom wouldn't know where he was, and he'd kill dad if she ended up spending the night searching for him.
Second option. Take off on foot. Probably best to take the guns. He'd not fare well against a pack of hungry coyotes in the middle of the night. That was, of course, if he made it somewhere before the cold took him down. He had no delusions. It was cold enough to kill him, but Jay wasn't too keen on dying tonight.
That left option number 3. Keep revving the truck, attempt to keep it in first gear, burn through gasoline, potentially lose the heat, and try to make it as far as possible.
He glanced at the wallet, frowned, and remembered he had cell signal about half way back to the house. So he just had to make it half way. Option number 3 it was.
Unfortunately, he didn't make it that far. When the engine lurched to a stop the last time and the dashboard lights all died, Jay knew this wasn't going to end well. He finished off the last of his water, bundled up, and checked the time one last time. Nearly midnight. Dad obviously hadn't gone home. Where ever the hell he was, Jay was for damned sure going to find out. Kind of an ironic turn of events. He was on the opposite side of that reaction practically every Friday night in high school.
He slung the rifle over his shoulder, tucked the firearm into a pocket, pulled the shotgun to his hands and pushed headfirst into the darkness, leaving the truck behind. He liked that old truck but not enough to use it for a coffin.
Edited by Jay Carpenter, Jan 14 2018, 06:57 PM.
Only darkness shows you the light.