“Shep!” the driver called to the dog. “Heel.”
The dog bounded to the side of his master, who jogged away, singing a sea shanty in a rich bass voice. “We are outward bound for Mobile town, with a heave-o, haul! An’ we’ll heave the ol’ wheel round an’ round, Good mornin’ ladies all!”
Olivia went limp with relief. She had thought the driver must have heard her scrambling around on the trailer. He must have just wanted a break after sitting in his truck all day. Mud covered the wooden floor of the trailer with hard uncomfortable lumps but she didn’t dare brush them away. The driver might be back any minute. She would have to wait.
The driver came jogging back a half hour later, still humming the tune. The jingle of Shep’s collar kept time with the sea shanty. There were mysterious noises of truck doors opening and closing and the rustle of plastic bags. Olivia had guessed that the driver must have gone to the truck stop and bought snacks for the following day. He had started to play fetch in the dimly lit parking lot. A ball thunked softly on the pavement and Shep raced back and forth alongside the trailer.
“Get that dog on a leash, you stupid Pitty!” one of the UN guards called from out of the night.
“He’s on a leash,” the driver cheerfully called back in his deep bass voice.
“You’ve got to hold onto one end of it, you DPshit!” The guard blurred “DP” for displaced person into an insult. “This isn’t your backwater cesspool of a city! Get ahold of your dog or we’ll impound it!”
“Will do!” the driver shouted back, still sounding cheerful. He whistled to his dog, and muttered quietly. “Don’t fight with the off-worlders. Don’t fight with the off-worlders.”
The driver climbed back into his truck, hopefully for the night.
Olivia waited for nearly an hour, heart thumping, before deciding that the driver probably had gone to sleep. She spent a few minutes cleaning the wooden floor of the trailer under her, brushing aside the hard lumps of dried mud. She tried to sleep but her body refused.
Dawn came, exposing how little cover the caterpillar treads actually gave her. Anyone inspecting the trailer closely would see her. She huddled in the shadows, peering out of the hundreds of tiny spy holes in the treads. Luckily the morning brought rain, keeping everyone under covers. She spent all day tucked up into the machinery, staying as still as possible, carefully sipping water so she wouldn’t need to pee but wouldn’t end up dehydrated. There had been nothing to do but pray and feel bitter regrets about everything that she had said and done since she was eleven.
The driver exercised his dog several times, despite the rain. It was a big blue heeler like ones at the Ranch. An Australian cattle breed, it was a high-energy dog, good for a farm but not the confines of a truck.
With nothing else to do, Olivia made theories about what kind of man the driver was. He seemed to be in his early thirties. Assuming that the guard’s designation of him was correct, the driver had been born in Pittsburgh before it went to Elfhome for the first time. An uneven tan on his face made it obvious that he’d recently shaved off a beard. He was a dishwater blond of Northern European extraction — not fair enough to be a Swede but maybe something just south of that country or perhaps muddied down in America’s melting pot. He had the build of someone who worked hard in fields: tall, lean, strong. On the back of his neck was the farmer’s brand: a suntan that bordered on burn. Both his baseball cap and T-shirt were blue with white lettering spelling out Betts Farms. Was it because he was so proud of his workplace or was it a way to allay UN guards’ suspicion, showing that the man and the truck belonged together? Certainly, he closed to meet any roving guard before they could reach his trailer. He did it casually by using the dog as a distraction, making it seem as if he was coincidently stepping out of his truck to give the dog a few minutes of freedom. With his deep booming voice, he’d explain that the blue heeler normally herded the cattle on the Betts’ family farm. He claimed that he brought the dog on a whim, wanting company while he searched out and bought a used logger. By the very nature of Pittsburgh being on Earth only one day a month, the trip would span weeks. During his search, he’d been able to exercise the dog as much as it needed. This long wait to cross the border, he said, was taxing Shep’s patience. The well-trained dog would win the guards over with its friendly nature.
During these exchanges, Olivia learned that the driver’s name was Gage Betts. His grandmother, Gertie, who was over a hundred years old, owned Betts Farms. Since she refused to abandon the land owned by her father and her grandfather and great-grandfather, the family had stayed put. Oddly there were no mention of parents, aunts, uncles, or other intervening family — but it could be that Olivia had been overly sensitized to such connections via the Ranch.
It wasn’t until dusk that Olivia had realized what Gage had been doing all day.
Gage was keeping the guards from inspecting the trailer where she hid.
Had he spotted Olivia or was he hiding something else, something smaller, stashed within the machinery? If it was as simple as he’d seen her hidden between the treads, why hadn’t he pointed her out to the guards? Was he afraid that he might be detained? Or did he have plans for the girl, completely alone on a strange planet?
The possibilities terrified her. As dusk deepened into night, she considered moving to one of the other trucks. The parking lot, though, became a kicked hive of activity as Shutdown approached. Drivers who had slept in the nearby hotels arrived. The ones like Gage who had stayed with their trucks made trips to the truck stop’s showers and restaurants and toilets and convenience stores.
Just before midnight, the public address system kicked on. A woman announced in bored tones, “One hour to Shutdown. All priority drivers, please prepare for admission into the quarantine zone by your cue number. This call is for priority drivers only. All paperwork must be presented for final check as you enter the zone.”
One by one, distant trucks rumbled to life and moved forward. Finally, Gage’s Kenworth started up and lurched forward. The heavy shifting and rattling of the big equipment inches over her head scared her. There was nothing to do but wait.
At midnight, Pittsburgh arrived with a sudden huge clap of thunder, a wave of cool green air, and a chorus of truck horns.
Gage blasted his horn the longest.
The line of trucks surged forward, quickly building up to highway speeds.
She was committed.
She was terrified.
She fought to stay calm. She couldn’t panic. She needed to get off the trailer safely before Gage reached his final destination. She moved her legs in the low space under the logger, working out pins and needles from lying still for an entire day. She needed to be ready to run the first time that Gage came to a stop. She knew that they were on Interstate 376 heading into Pittsburgh proper. At some point, though, he’d leave the main roads for his family’s farm.
She could see by the headlights in the opposite lane that the outbound vehicles were at a standstill. At some point, hopefully, the Kenworth would run afoul of the traffic heading toward Earth. The roads had remained clear for miles and miles. After twenty minutes of roaring at full speed, she was starting to despair. Where were they going?
The truck slowed finally, taking an off-ramp while the bulk of the traffic continued straight. The new route wasn’t a limited access highway but an expressway through an inner-city neighborhood. Sidewalks and buildings lined the right hand side of the road. If she remembered the layout of Pittsburgh, this was Boulevard of the Allies and it led to other major highways heading out of the city with little or no stops. If she was going to get off, she needed to move soon!