Free The Great Wreck by Jack Stewart Page B

walked
along the side of the truck back to the bed. It was packed full of gear:
camping gear, rifles, ammunition, tents, water, food, everything. These folks
were heading into the hills for the long haul it seemed. I walked back to the
tailgate and saw that the truck was still hitched to the trailer. If I could
start the truck, I might be able to drag the trailer, even on its side, far
enough away from the guardrail to let us through. I grabbed a tarp from the bed
and walked back to the driver’s side of the cab. I opened up the tarp and laid
it down over the pools of dried blood and viscera scattered across the front
seat, then gently sat in the driver’s seat. The battery would probably be dead
and we’d have to try to push the trailer out of the way with the Bronco or try
to pull it out of the road with the Bronco’s winch.
                Talking
as shallow a breath as I could, I turned the key and heard the engine turn over
once, twice, three times, then catch and roar to live. Yes! I carefully put the
truck in reverse and slowly pressed down on the gas until I began to back away
from the mountain side of the road. The trailer screeched and scrapped along
the asphalt. Once I thought I had enough room, I turned the wheel as far to the
left as I could,   put the truck in drive,
and slowly pulled forward lining the truck up with the right lane of the road.
I felt the truck jerk as it took up the weight of the trailer and the trailer
began to squeal as the metal siding dragged across the asphalt, but still the
trailer slowly slid along behind the truck. I kept up steady pressure on the
gas unit I could see in the rear view that we had enough room to get the Bronco
by.
                Thank
you, God, I thought as I turned off the truck’s engine and got out of the cab.
Tony had recovered and jumped in the Bronco driving it around the tail end of
the wreck and stopping next to me. Getting out he looked over the equipment in
the bed of the truck.
                “What do
you think? Anything we can use?” I asked.
                “The
rifles. We can wrap those in tarps and strap them to the roof. The ammunition,
of course. But the water and food? I don’t think we have enough room in the
back for it. The cabin has a ton of food and water anyways, so let’s just get
the weapons and get out of here.”
                “Agreed,”
I said as we wrapped the four rifles up in tarps and tied them to the roof.
                Inside I
could hear Dreysi say, “Oh, goody. The men now have their surrogate penises. I
feel so much safer now.”
                We finished
tying down the rifles and packing every nook and cranny in the back with all
the ammunition we could carry, then we were on our way again.
                The
wreck had one side benefit: we didn’t see any more long lines of cars parked on
the sides of the road and the trailheads from that point on were sparsely
populated with only a few cars each of the parking areas. Apparently most
people saw the wreck and just turned around instead of trying to move the
trailer out of the way.
                We made
our way up the winding road and found Forrest Road 453. I slowed down and
pulled onto the dirt road leaving the pavement behind. We were lucky. The road
was in good shape with no washouts. It looked like the county had just repaired
it before…well…things got out of hand. We cruised along the empty road until
finally at around four o’clock, made it to our trailhead. The parking area had
about five cars, a few trucks and a single, lone camper parked in it. We all
climbed out of the Bronco and stretched and spotted a pair of old folks sitting
in front of a double tent in the camping ground right off the trailhead.
                “Howdy,
folks!” the old man said puffing contentedly on a pipe.
                I went
over to them as the others stretched and walked