Meeting Death - A Truckers Halloween Story - Part 2

Meeting Death

Part 2 - Original for Steemit Short Halloween Truckers Story.

Part 1 In Case You Missed It

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So, the forklift brought the 44' long by eight feet wide by eight feet high mud tank over to the flatbed trailer and lined the tank up with the help of the big man and Scratchy. As the driver of the forklift raised the mud tank up to drive forward, the forklift ran out of fuel.

It took everyone a while to figure out that the forklift had run out of fuel, but it was determined that the fuel gauge was correct by looking in the tank with a flashlight. It was now dark. Sadly, the driver had tried to start the forklift until the battery died and the forklift was a diesel.

The big man said the only thing left to do was go get more fuel and jump the forklift with his pickup. The driver of the forklift found a ten gallon fuel can among all their equipment and took a vehicle to the mines pumps.

While waiting, Scratchy had time to talk with the big man, who it turned out was the foreman of logistics. There was no oil around and that is not why the drilling company was here.

The drillers were hired to determine the size of a copper deposit deep underground. They had been here for about six months and the size of the copper lode was huge and down about two thousand feet to six thousand feet. The big man waved his hand over a vast untouched expanse to the west of where they stood. His wave included a lot of hills and even a mountain. The lode was about ten by ten miles. As far as he knew, this would be a tunnel mining operation.

Scratchy was impressed. He had never heard of surveying a mineral or metal deposit with the use of well drilling rigs. Off in the distance, he could see a crew under big spotlights disassembling the last drill rig a couple of miles away. Finally, the forklift driver showed up with a full fuel can. The forklift was fueled and it would not start.

About an hour went by. It was now seven o'clock. What would have been ten minutes and gone was turning into a bit longer. Scratchy and the big man took up positions to guide the forklift driver. "I should have been out of here and hit the sack." The big man said, repeatedly, "I was supposed to be off shift ten hours ago."

The forklift moved forward, lifted the tank and the tank was centered on the flatbed with about two feet of bed that would be open at each end of the tank. The tank was ready to be lowered onto the deck when for no real reason, the tank tilted toward the tractor and the lower end dropped down on the deck. The tank started to slide toward the cab a foot. The tank stopped its slide caught by two hooks under the tank.

"What just happened is impossible." The big man said to Scratchy. The heavier end is on the end of the tank toward the back of the truck. Just wanting to be loaded and gone Scratchy said, "Well, it's good enough, let's just drop it where it is at because it only weighs 9 tons." They looked at the deck and there appeared to be no damage.

"Okay. It is good enough where it is at." The big man motioned for the forklift driver to continue to lower the tank the rest of the way, only he couldn't. The hooks of the tank had stuck themselves on the tine of the forklift just perfectly and the tank was stuck.

They tried all kinds of things like stacking up dunage, the boards or spacers used by truckers for loads, to shaking the forklift and in the end, with the tank sitting tilted on one forklift tine, they had to go get a crane. The crane picked up the back of the tank. After forty-five minutes of shaking it, the tank with the crane, the forklift was freed. Somehow in the process, the tank moved toward the back of the trailer and hung four feet off the end of the truck.

No matter what the crane did, the tank would not slide forward on the bed. The idea was then to drop the tank on the deck. Move the crane. Then the forklift could come behind the tank and push it forward onto the flatbed where it was supposed to go. Only when the crane lowered the tank to the deck of the flatbed the front end of the tank came up and the tank started to slide off the back of the truck.

What turned out to be a death defying act was finally solved by Scratchy. The big man and the forklift driver were obviously asleep on their feet. The forklift was put on the side of the back of the tank and held it up while the crane was disconnected and moved to the side of the truck. Then the crane reconnected to the back of the tank. The forklift was able to drop the forks and then move behind the tank and push the tank onto the flatbed. Once it was in place, all lined up, the crane held up the tank so the forklift could back out from under the tank and voila! Three hours later the tank sat on the flatbed positioned perfectly.

Scratchy strapped it down. He said goodbye to everyone. The big man and the forklift driver left everything right where it was at and decided they were off to bed until tomorrow. Scratchy signed the bills. Left the site and headed out with the big man and the forklift driver in his pickup truck. They went towards Tombstone. Scratchy headed east on AZ 82. He drove the requisite 15 minutes and pulled over at a wide out to check the tightness of the straps after a load initially settled and he was off.

No traffic at all this Halloween night, at least nothing that would slow him down even a bit. AZ 90 to Interstate 10 and right of 17, for the Red Truck this was no load at all and he was at the speed limit, not even slowing for a hill up or down. The Jake-brakes could hold this load like it was nothing. Midnight was approaching and he was on I-17 somewhere just south of Flagstaff.

His phone rang. It was the big man, so the caller said. "I couldn't sleep because I am worried something will fall off the top of the tank." They talked back and forth and Scratchy was surprised to hear from him because it had been nearly four hours. It just did not make sense, so he said to the big man,
"It is all strapped down been checked and all is good."

"I am worried about it something coming loose. I want you to check it right now or I will report you to your boss." The big man said.

"Okay, okay, I'll just stop at this exit up ahead and check it. If anything is loose, I'll call you. Okay?"

"That's good. Just pull over and check the top of the tank and I sleep good." So Scratchy hung up the phone and saw exit 299 up ahead. He pulled off and there was parking on the off ramp. Another trucker looked like he was sleeping and Scratchy pulled in behind him and parked it. He could use the break anyway so he shut off the tractor.

In the silence, Scratchy said to himself that he thought the call was real strange. It really did not sound like the big man but he was in the Red Truck and inside the tractor it was loud. This whole trip has been strange. I should have never taken this truck back but the truck can't be blamed for what happened with that load. Things just happened when people were tired. Scratchy got his flashlight out of the saddle and climbed up on the front of the deck, then up a ladder to the top of the tank.

He shined his flashlight and looked over the top of the tank on this end, which was covered with steel. There was nothing loose. He climbed down. Down from the trailer the mud tank was as wide as the trailer; he checked the tightness of the straps as he went. They were all tight and he came to the back of the trailer and crawled up on the deck.

In this part of the tank was where all the valves and pumps were located. They were big and heavy all the parts and equipment were welded into the tank or mounted very secure nothing loose. He climbed up the ladder to the top of the tank with his flashlight. The back of the mud tank was covered with a very heavy steel grate made of bar stock bout a half inch thick and two inches deep. On top of it were hand rails under the straps and wired in place with bailing wire. Just like when he strapped it down, nothing was loose.

Before was the open tank as he stood up. The opening was as wide as the tank and maybe six feet from the edge of the steel grate forward. "Everything that was up here is here and it is all secured." Scratchy stood and was about to turn around when, "Wham" something smacked him on the back of the head really hard and he fell into the mud tank opening head first. His shins had drug across the ends of the steel grate as he fell in and it flipped him so he landed on his back on the steel floor of the mud tank. "Ugh!!"

The wind was knocked out of Scratchy when he thudded against the floor of the tank. He hurt bad but did not land on his head and had slapped his arms and legs out hard to try to break his fall. Unfortunately, there were the heads of big bolts sticking up a half inch thick flush across the bottom of the tank spaced every foot or so and he landed on some. It hurt.

I was pitch black in there. The flashlight broke on the fall. Scratchy was able to catch his breath after a few minutes. He was able to sit up. Nothing was broken thankfully but bruises hurt and so it took him a few more minutes to recover enough to stand. He could tell his legs were bloody and his jeans shredded on both pant legs by feel. His shins hurt worse than anything else.

He recovered quickly and realized, at this exit, out in the middle of the Arizona desert, no one would ever find him in here or even think to look. It was midnight. Feeling as bad as he did and Scratchy hurt badly. He decided, what was that? He heard some kind of laughter outside the tank. Yes, he was sure of it. He decided to call for help. So he yelled at the top of his lungs in the direction of the laughter. Nothing and the laughter did not stop.

No one came, no one answered and after repeated calls, Scratchy was beginning to get angry. Some jerk was laughing at him for falling in the mud tank. Maybe, somehow, whoever laughed had managed to hit him but he did not see anything or anyone near the truck and climbing the ladder was not silent. The ladders of the mud tank made noise when climbed. They rattled. Scratchy had not been up there on top of the tank long enough for someone to sneak up on him and smack him in the head.

The laughter continued and that made Scratchy even angrier. He jumped up, that hurt. He grabbed the edge of the tank and was able to pull himself up with great effort and finally get high enough to swing his feet, then legs, and finally his upper body onto the grate. He lied there panting, Scratchy weighed three hundred pounds. The whole time, the laughter, more like a cackle, never stopped.

Scratchy caught his breath from his recent gymnastics movements and stood up. his legs hurt. He was scraped up in a lot of places, bruised, and he thought he could see someone up on top of the embankment, about 15 feet up, it is the bastard that is laughing at me, Scratchy said to himself.

Mad as hell, Scratchy got up, climbed down the ladder jumped of the back of the trailer, and ran up the side of the embankment. It was really steep and there was loose gravel all the way up but Scratchy finally made it to the top.

Huffing and puffing, Scratchy looked to the right at the sound of the laughing and there was someone in some kind of black cloak laughing so hard, he was not even aware that Scratchy had snuck up right in front of where his nose should be. None of the face could be seen because the head was bent forward; the cowl of the hood shadowed and covered everything, the point of the cowl sticking up at the back of the head. The man was just shaking with laughter. Scratchy stood there and looked him.

He became madder and angrier by the second. He shifted his feet and it made noise. The robbed and hooded man stopped laughing and looked up, straight into Scratchy's eyes.

There was no face. Only two bright red glowing orbs of fire, and they looked into each other's eyes for a second and the robbed thing, surprised, SCREAMED!

It was more like an ethereal Shriek! Scratchy punched it right in the face and poof! Gone. Like it had never been there laughing at him.

Scratchy looked around but saw nothing, nothing in the dark at all. He almost fell on his face from the force of his punch. He recovered and there was nothing there, no more laughter.

He climbed down from the embankment. He had no phone signal anyways. Started the Red Truck and headed to a truck stop in Flagstaff, and did not make it home until the next day.

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