Truck Drivin’ Hero Page 2

  “And you think they caused it, so they could fry our planet.”

  “Oh, no. Absolutely not. These sunspots and solar flares are part of a cycle. Ever since we've been taking measurements of the sun, they've gradually increased and decreased on an eleven year cycle. We're simply nearing another maximum,” Hutch said.

  Hero thought about that. “It's 2025, which means that the last one happened in 2014. I don't remember anything weird happening then.”

  “Right. Most of the time, nothing does happen. Some stronger aurora borealis, some satellite outages, but nothing that we can personally feel. Sometimes, though, stronger effects happen,” Hutch said.

  “Like what?”

  “In 1989, a bunch of transformers exploded in Canada, leaving six million people without power. During the Vietnam War, a whole undersea minefield blew up. But those effects are nothing compared to the Carrington Event.”

  “The Carrington Event,” Hero repeated. He glanced over at Hutch in the passenger seat with raised eyebrows.

  “Named after some British guy. A solar storm hit the planet Earth in the 19th century. You could see auroras, like the aurora borealis, all over the planet. People woke up in the middle of the night and thought it was morning. People thought it was a sign of the end times, like they always do when they see something they don't understand.”

  Hero thought about that. “But we're different now. Egghead scientists are always there to make sure we don't jump at our own shadow.”

  “Sure, we're different. But in one very important way, we're worse off. You see, in the 19th century, there weren't a lot of electronic gadgets. But there were a few, like the telegraph. You know the telegraph, right?” Hutch asked.

  “Sure. Beep beep beep, beeeeep beeeeep beeeeep, beep beep beep. SOS.”

  “Right. Telegraphs began giving their operators electric shocks. You could unplug them and they'd still work, just from the ambient energy in the air, or the ether, or whatever. Some even burst into flames from getting all that electricity forced into them.”

  Hero grunted. “Doesn't sound that bad.”

  “It is, though. Everything's electric these days. Something like that happens, and we have a lot more than just telegraphs to catch fire.” Hutch's jaw firmed as he looked out the front window at the road in front of him. “And for the most part, we haven't prepared for it to happen again. You remember when we got to Kandahar, and all those young army privates plugged their Playstations into the power supply?”

  Hero laughed at the memory. “The magic smoke escaped and their Playstations never worked again.”

  Hutch laughed too. “Right. The magic smoke was the electronics that were used to handling 120V of power suddenly getting 240V of power and frying themselves. Most electronics rely on the user handling them properly and not plugging them into the wrong outlet.”

  Hero thought about it. “You think a Carrington Event is heading our way and we're about to lose a lot of magic smoke.”

  “Well, they'll end up calling it something else. I suggested Hutchinson Event but I don't think they're going to go for it. But yes, there are more sunspots this cycle than in any other in a century. We think a coronal mass ejection is imminent, and headed straight for Earth,” he said.

  Hero laughed. “How 'bout that?” he mused. He slowed slightly to let another semi-truck merge onto I-35, letting him pull in between him and Speedy's Mustang. “The very air that surrounds us will be so electrified that the magic smoke will escape. Not just the magic smoke from telegraphs this time, but from everything. How bad do they think it will be?”

  “Many devices, if unplugged, will weather the storm. But yes, almost everything will be affected. Some devices are hardened against it, and you can also shield sensitive devices against it, but it ain't easy.”

  “But mostly everything,” Hero realized. “Every computer, every TV, every digital radio, every modern form of communication. It'll all be down for something between four hours and forever.”

  “That's right. But that's not all,” Hutch said.

  “Oh, there's more?”

  Hutch gestured in front of them. The big rig in front of them was pulling into the left lane, bringing Speedy back into view. “What can you tell me about that truck?”

  “I think it's a Tesla Semi. Electric. Autopilot, though a driver still rides along in case of emergencies. Can definitely travel faster and farther than Alexandria here. Some people like the sleek shape of it, but it reminds me too much of them.”

  “The design pre-dates their arrival, but I get the sentiment,” Hutch said.

  Hero paused, realization dawning on him. “The whole thing is a computer. An electric computer.”

  “They call it an Android tablet on wheels. Sitting on a huge, high-voltage battery. Every system on it requires five different computers to run. Not only that, it has no combustion engine. Even if it's hardened against solar radiation, it must be refueled on the electric grid.”

  “A grid that won't work during the solar storm. So that's why you need Alexandria,” Hero said.

  “It's not even just the semi-truck that we need. What's the next car coming up on your left?”

  “An old Chevy Volt hybrid. It does have a gas engine, but a weak one. It's also very computer-heavy.”

  “Think back. How many cars do you work on in that repair shop of yours that have no onboard computer whatsoever? How many cars do you repair that have no electrical system?”

  “Well, they've all got a battery to power the spark plugs, the radio, the headlights-”

  “We can harden Alexandria's battery against that,” Hutch said.

  “But, you're right. The 2009 government program called 'Cash for Clunkers' got rid of a lot of the old computer-less cars, and the government have been aggressively culling them from the market as well, under the guise of preventing global warming. The rising price of gasoline and diesel only makes owning one worse. Only collectors and rebels have them now,” Hero said.

  “So, what does that make you?” Hutch asked.

  “You know I wouldn't give up this old gal without a fight.”

  “But what if you had to?”

  Hero didn't like the question. It wasn't something he was eager to answer. He shrugged. “As I'm sure you're aware, the Greys have never really bothered taking a heavy hand to the Midwest. They got Washington D.C., New York, Los Angeles, Seattle, and pretty much every other urban center on the coasts. But most people think that there are just too many guns between the coasts, and so they simply rely on local law enforcement to do their job for them without seeming like an occupying force. The cops get more equipment, occasionally they hand over someone for 're-education', and we pretend like the entire United States, the entire world, hasn't been taken over by aliens from another planet.” He paused to let that sentence sit. “Despite the world going to hell in a hand basket, my truck is safe.”

  It was the first time their conversation had acknowledged that the Greys weren't just some hostile government or military coup. They were beings from another planet, another galaxy maybe, and their thought patterns were so different from humans that it was a wonder that humans and aliens were able to coexist at all.

  Hutch grew quiet. “Some of us can't pretend, Hero.” There was a long pause, and Hero thought that he had somehow hurt Hutch's feelings. He glanced over at Hutch, but the man showed no sign of emotion. Hero couldn't get a read on him, so he looked back to the road. They were coming up on the I-80 exit anyway, and Hero was curious about whether they were headed east or west.

  Speedy took the ramp onto I-80 east.

  As soon as they were settled into the middle lane, Hero spoke up again. “Look, I don't mean to say that I like the aliens ruling over us. There's talk that they're strip mining the North Pole, that they're mining uranium out of the ocean, that they're taking our most intelligent children off-planet.”

  “You can hear all that and not fight against them?” Hutch asked.

  Hero shrugged.
“I try not to hear it. People who talk that way tend to get sent to the re-education camps. I try to help people out locally. I'm a part of a community now.”

  “Even though the aliens could wipe out your community any time they wanted to?” Hutch asked.

  “There has always been an existential threat, well before we were born. Nuclear winter, ebola, the hole in the ozone layer, terrorism, global warming, grey goo. If everyone dropped everything they were doing every time the news told them to be afraid of something, we wouldn't have communities,” Hero said.

  “So you think the threat the Greys pose is overblown?” Hutch asked, his eyes hard as he looked at Hero. It was an accusation, as if Hero was a collaborator himself.

  “That's not what I'm saying, but there is always something. At some point, the healthy response is to block out the world and focus on what's happening right in front of you.”

  There was silence for a few minutes. Hero didn't know if Hutch was pondering what he had said, or if he was just sick of hearing what he had to say.

  “You never answered my question, by the way,” Hutch finally said, settling back into his seat.

  “Which question?”

  “You said only collectors or rebels have internal combustion engine vehicles. If the Greys came and told you that you had to give Alexandria up, what would you do?”

  Hero grimaced. He'd hoped Hutch hadn't noticed, but Hutch never missed much.

  “I don't have a real answer for that. I tried not to think about it. Mostly I just hoped that it would never come to that. Part of me realized that it might not be until I'm much older, and that I'd give her up without a fight. But part of me...” He reached to the back of Hutch's seat, to a secret pocket in the fabric of the seat. He pulled out a sawed-off shotgun, showing it to Hutch briefly before putting it back. “Part of me assumed that I'd eventually go down swingin', Alexandria at my side.”

  “Well, I'm glad you're at least prepared for the eventuality,” Hutch said. “This mission could be a cakewalk, but it could come to violence.”

  “You haven't told me anything about this mission, other than the fact that Alexandria is needed for it.”

  “Yeah. Well, here's the thing...” He trailed off as he looked in the rearview mirror. A police car had turned its lights on and was coming up fast behind them. Speedy slowed down and moved onto the shoulder, and Hero did the same. She didn't stop, though. The police car flew right by them, on his way to catch a speeder a half mile ahead of them. They pulled back onto the highway and continued driving. Hero watched as Hutch didn't let out his breath until the police car was another mile ahead of them.

  “You hungry?” Hutch asked once the cop was gone from the rear-view mirror. “Sally eats like a bird, so the only time I got to eat on the way out here was when she needed to pee, and that wasn't too often.”

  Again, Hero winced at the use of Speedy's real name, and was reminded that part of his mission had to be to get her out of this life. “Yeah, there's a truck stop just ahead with a Del Taco I really like.” He picked up the CB radio's hand mic. “Speedy, this is Hero. We're gonna stop at the watering hole ahead, you copy?”

  The CB radio crackled to life. “Hero, this is Speedy, 10-4.”

  3

  Hero ordered a couple of burritos with fries, and Hutch ordered the same. Speedy ordered a single breakfast burrito. Hutch paid for it all with a crisp hundred dollar bill, looking like it was fresh off the press. Hero wondered if it was counterfeit, but if it was, it fooled the kid working the register.

  Hutch got in a booth and Speedy sat next to him. Hero slid in on the opposite side, positioning himself across from Speedy. Now that he was closer to her than he had been in the parking lot, he realized how much more grown-up she looked. Not that she didn't still have her sweet babyface, but her eyes looked tired now. He realized that she had seen enough to have stories to tell.

  Still, her slender frame still looked as soft and inviting as it ever had. At this distance, and even over the various smells of the restaurant, the smell of her shampoo was intoxicating. Her teeth, as white and straight as ever, made every smile infectious, and she kept smiling at him.

  If this was going to be a dangerous mission, at least it had its bright side.

  “So, how have you been?” Hero asked softly.

  “Fine,” she said flatly. “Has Tim told you about the job at all?”

  “Straight to business, huh? He told me some nonsense about coronals and the sun, but that's about it,” Hero said.

  Speedy suddenly looked very alarmed, and shushed him while looking around. “Is your phone on?” she asked in a yell-whisper. Her eyes were wide.

  Hero nodded, then picked up his phone, realizing what he had just said out loud. “Yeah. We were just talking about how you and I used to drink Coronas on the beach in the sun. You remember those Coronas? You can't get good Mexican beer nowadays.” He turned off the phone and then opened the back up, removing the battery as well for good measure. “Sorry, my OPSEC isn't as good as it used to be.”

  Hutch jumped in. “As soon as I saw you pull out that phone at the garage, I knew that it was too old for the Greys to actually be listening in if you're not on an actual phone call. It can't even play Angry Birds, can it?”

  Hero shook his head. “I never liked the idea that someone could spy on me. I refuse to upgrade.” It was going to take some practice to get back into the military mindset. He'd been comfortable for too long.

  Speedy leaned back and relaxed. “It's okay. I'm probably more on edge than I need to be.”

  Hero nodded. “So I don't know much about the job, and it sounds like this isn't the place to talk about it. Let's talk about you. You still driving that old Probe?”

  She cracked a smile, then laughed. “That old thing. No, I stopped driving it when I got that Mustang out there. 'Probe Sally' sounds less like a nickname and more like what the aliens want to do to me.”

  Hero shook his head and laughed. “I don't blame them.”

  Speedy gave an easy laugh at the flirt, then stopped herself. She cleared her throat. “So, what have you been up to?”

  Hero took a big bite of his burrito. “You mean since we broke up?”

  “Since you left me,” she corrected him, coldly. Her eyes were hard as ice and her mouth a thin line.

  Hero couldn't blame her for being a little mad. He had left her, but it was a pretty clean breakup. “When I left you, I treated it like every other breakup. I got drunk, started some fights, spent a couple nights in the drunk tank. Luckily, this was all before the aliens landed, so I didn't get sent to a camp.”

  “Uh huh,” she said, not losing any of the anger.

  “I settled down in Reno for a little bit, then got a job in Burbank. When the Greys came, I had a bit part in The Battle of Los Angeles. I got out of there just in time, though,” Hero said.

  “You were in the Resistance?” Hutch asked, sounding surprised.

  “Well, there was no resistance then, at least not formally. It was me, a friend, and a couple of assault rifles. We took pot shots at flying saucers all day, trying to down them, rarely succeeding. There were a lot of different groups back then, and none of them were very organized. The army was giving out ammo like candy, but eventually that stopped, along with any communication with the rest of America.”

  There was a silence around the table. Those had been dark days. Hero didn't like thinking about them. The whole world had completely changed in under a month's time.

  “Well, we're organized now. And we refer to ourselves as the Resistance, with a capital R,” Hutch said after a moment.

  “You're lucky you got out of California when you did,” Speedy said, changing the subject back.

  “I almost didn't. My friend wanted to stay and fight to the end, going down in a hail of gunfire. If it hadn't been for a rich couple paying us to smuggle them out of California, we probably would have,” Hero said.

  “A rich couple from California, huh?” Speedy looked
at Hero, as if trying to figure something out. “So your friend-”

  “My friend wanted to turn right back around and continue the fight, but I didn't. I knew it was suicide and told them that,” Hero said, cutting her off. “We weren't friends anymore after that.”

  “I see.” Speedy nodded slowly, still thinking.

  “After that, I drove to what I thought was the middle of America, thinking that it would take the Greys a couple weeks to fight their way there from either coast and that I'd have time to prepare. Des Moines was the perfect place to make my last stand. But, as you know, the Greys have never bothered.”

  “So you gave up the fight,” Hutch accused him.

  Hero just shrugged. “As I told you in the truck, the fight never made it to me. Occasionally, a ship of theirs lands to pick up a prisoner from the local cops, but other than that, I never see them. Anyway, I didn't want to be criss-crossing America in my truck with them occupying it, so I used the only remaining skill the Army gave me. I became a mechanic. I opened that auto repair shop. I settled down.”

  “You settled down,” Speedy said. “Any women?” Her voice sounded even, but her eyes showed that she was worried about his answer.

  “A few,” Hero said, staying vague. He didn't want to talk about this, especially not with her.

  “Any that you were close to?” she pressed.

  Hero sighed. “One, definitely.”

  “You still with her?”

  “No, we broke up a while ago.”

  “Was she the 'friend' that you fought alongside in the Battle of Los Angeles?”

  “I don't want to talk about it,” Hero said, a touch of anger creeping into his voice.

  Speedy wasn't going to let it go, though. “You mentioned a rich couple, and it reminded me of another story I once heard. Your 'friend' wasn't named Victoria, was she?”

  Hero's heart sank at the mere mention of her name. He finished his bite of burrito before chuckling, but he didn't feel like it was funny. “Victoria Smiles. I should have guessed that everyone in the capital-R Resistance knows everyone else. And I'm glad that she didn't rush off to die in a hail of gunfire, like I was afraid she was going to.”