Free SurviRal by Ken Benton Page B

down. Now it was their turn.
    “What’s going on?” Harold asked cordially.
    The man leaned down so Clint and Jenny could see him clearly. He wore a white t-shirt, smudged in places, had black hair and a mustache. Large tattoos covered most of his muscular forearms, but Clint couldn’t make out what the images were of.
    “Good afternoon, folks. I’m with the Colorado salvage, towing, and road maintenance alliance. Lots of problems with blockages on I-25 today. Too many abandoned cars, with the gas stations closed and all. We’re doing our best to clear them and let folks through as we’re able to make room, but it’s a heck of a project and a bit of a slow go. I’d also like to mention most of us are now working on unpaid overtime. This is a tough job with no benefits, so we’re asking for help from the community. Would you care to make a donation to the tow truck driver’s retirement fund?”
    Harold laughed. “Never heard of such a thing. Neither have I heard of a Colorado salvage and road maintenance alliance. Is this for real?”
    The tow truck driver only frowned. Clint heard Jenny rustling in the back seat.
    “Here,” she said, sticking her arm past the other side of Harold’s head.
    “Thank you, ma’am.” But when the man took the bill from her hand and saw that it was only a ten, he seemed disappointed. His frown returned, and he just kept standing there with is forearms resting on Harold’s open window. Finally, he spoke again.
    “Unfortunately, it may be a while before we can get you through…” His voice trailed off as he turned and looked at the right lane.
    “Wait,” Harold said. “Do you like beef jerky?”
    “Jerky? Sure, I do.”
    “Here you go.” Harold handed him the sandwich baggie that he and Clint had been nibbling from, still mostly full.
    The tow truck driver took a bite and smiled. He then tucked the jerky bag with the ten dollar bill in a pocket, whistled for his partner standing in front, and signaled him with his other hand.
    “Thank you, folks. Please proceed through on the left.”
    Harold acted smug afterwards. “I told you this was good jerky.”
    They had to proceed cautiously, as the car in front of them was only six or seven lengths ahead and also going slow. To their right, on the other side of the fence, many people were standing around their parked vehicles. Some of them yelled at Harold’s car as they passed. Clint thought he saw one guy even spit at them. But then there was so much commotion in one spot Harold slowed even more, so they could try and see what was happening. Clint rolled his window down and stretched his neck out in an effort get a glimpse.
    “Oh no,” he said.
    “What?” Harold and Jenny both responded.
    Clint came back inside. “It’s the red Fiat. Didn’t make it. Rolled down a steep embankment. Probably why there was nothing parked in that spot. Looks like some people are trying to help, and one of the available tow trucks is backing down to it.”
    “That’s terrible,” Jenny said. “Are they really not letting people go on that side go because they didn’t pay a bribe? How can they get away with this? Where are the state troopers?”
    “They must have all gotten called away on other emergencies,” Harold said. “I’ll say this much for these tow truck drivers. They’re a much more enterprising group of fellows than I ever gave them credit for. Glad ours wasn’t a vegetarian.”
    “Vegetarian tow truck driver,” Clint mused. “I wonder if there is such a thing.”
    They finally came to the end of the fence. It turned and closed against a boulder on the roadside. Three more tow trucks were parked directly in front of it. No way to get by even if you moved the fence. The poor people who refused to pay the bribe were corralled, and appeared to be going nowhere for a long while.
    For those who paid, however, the road opened back up to two lanes and normal highway speeds resumed. It was nice again for a while.
    But only