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drivin-down-i-20 · 6 months

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I don’t really know how to start this kind of thing off so I guess I’ll just introduce myself? I don’t want to get too personal, for reasons that I’m sure you’ll come to understand later, but I can at least tell you my job. I’m an employee of my state’s Highway Patrol. I’m not a cop or anything like that; I clean up accidents.

Semis, mostly. I’m part of a crew that is responsible for the section of I-20 that cuts across my state. We get calls mostly at night, so we’re all night owls, perpetually sipping caffeine in one form or another. Except for that one guy, but he’s a whole story all by himself.

I’ve seen some of the most horrific accidents you can imagine. Cattle trailers overturned. Sleeping truckers. Spills. And I’d like to tell a few stories if that’s okay. I’ve never believed that people living and working in places where secrets are kept is a good idea. Especially when those secrets are kept by those who are supposed to protect them. This is the “I’m sure you’ll understand why later part.” This is a throwaway account and it’ll be deactivated when I’m through with these stories. In the meantime, feel free to shoot me any questions you’ve got. Asks. Whatever. I figure Tumblr isn’t as… monitored as Reddit so maybe I’ll be okay. Just. Spread it around yeah? Protect your people. Help them protect themselves.

I’ve never been a superstitious or conspiracy type person. I was raised hand to mouth and didn’t really have time to think about any of that. I did go to church. Mama made all of us go. I loved lessons in Sunday School about the great heroes in the Bible. David. Moses. Samson. Superheroes of the Bible the old woman who was my teacher called them.

As I got older though, I realized they were just men. People. David was a murderer, murdered a friend to steal his wife. Moses was a murderer, but I’ll be honest, I’d have done what he did too. Samson got himself in an entire bind over a woman. They weren’t to be idolized. They were to be learned from.

Guess this is what my first story’s like. Learn something from it. Maybe.

It doesn’t snow much where I am. Instead, we get the ice. Yeah that real good pipe-busting, road-slicking ice. It’s not every year, heck we get balmy Florida sun as many winters as we get ice, but it can happen.

Couple years back there was an ice storm that put the bits of the state that were affected on a screeching halt. No school, no stores open, nothing. So everybody stayed real snuggled and safe at home until the thaw. Which was the next day. Everywhere was just soggy with it. The grass squelched under your feet.

A “side-effect” of this thaw was heavy fog. There was a man, husband, dad of two, minister in a local church, who was on his way to prayer early that morning. He was in a hurry so he was doing what everyone else does on a hectic morning: speeding.

Ah hush you know you do it. And sometimes, it’s okay to do. Keeping up with the flow of traffic and all that. Dude had his high beams up. It was just another day.

Until he ploughed into the back of a parked schoolbus at top speed. Doubt the guy knew what hit him.

Wasn’t anything anybody could do for him.

The bus was higher than his vehicle so most of what happened to the bus, happened to the undercarriage. The kids were scared and some were a little scratched and banged up, but they were all okay. Liked to have scared the poor driver clear to death, though.

The man in a hurry had already be taken away when we got there. People don’t really like to think about what happens to a body when it dies. Releasing the soul is kind of how I think on it. You don’t realize how many muscles and tendons are contracting right now, holding you together. When you die, it all relaxes. Yeah you go through rigor mortis, but that’s only after.

Your bowels release. Your bladder releases. If you were in an accident like this man, your veins let go. And what your body was working so hard to contain, it leaves. And it’s everywhere. All that hurrying and anxiety to get where he was going, it stayed behind too. With his wife and his kids. And it haunted them. You know it did. You know they asked themselves how they might’ve stopped that day from happening. What if Daddy had just waited a few minutes? The bus would’ve moved on, the fog might’ve lessened. And he’d still be there.

So take it from me, who’s had to hose my fair share of the refuse of hurrying and impatience off the asphalt, both of sinner and saint, being late is still being alive.

Sorry for the heavy start, but it’s the nature of my job. I’ll go in a different direction with the next one. Not all of them involve death and tragedy. We got a call to a clean up about 4:30 one morning for a semi overturn. Fella had rounded down a turn-off, coming down an overpass and cut too sharp. Whole trailer flopped over. She was hauling, wait for it, soap. Dawn. Oh my God. It was. Everywhere. Smelled great. But good sweet Lord. We got our big, coarse bristle brushes to try and sweep it into some tarps, trying to keep it from poisoning wildlife or the ecosystem, but it just made it all suds up. Bubbles. Everywhere. And then the wind got to blowing. It was a mess. Even once we got to just hosing it, it was like something out of a cartoon. But I still laugh about that one though with the guys. We might’ve frolicked through them like slow motion princesses and taken pictures. They’re in my blackmail folder just in case.

This crew’s been together the longest of any one I’ve been on. Folks usually get tired of it and want to move on to something less strenuous. Which I get. It’s not for everyone. But I like it. Keeps the bills paid. You know. I’m not unhappy. And I get sweet overtime.

Me and this older guy are the old hands. Let’s call him Jake. Jake’s older than me and I guess you could call him the foreman. But it doesn’t really work like that. He just knows what to do for most incidents and we listen. Experience is valuable.

Jake and I started working together when I moved to this crew about seven years ago. I’d been town cleanup for a bit but it was so boring. So I put my application in through the DOT, Department of Transportation, and got hired. Got a raise too. I was over the moon. I’ve always been one to feel more awake at night and Jake was the same. Guess maybe that article I read somewhere about evolution conditioning some of us to stay up and tend the fire in the night is true. Feels like it.

I’m rambling.

We got a early morning call, pre-dawn. There usually aren’t that many vehicles on the road that aren’t semis at that time of day. We’d been working on our gear, making sure it was all ready to go. Takes a lot of stuff to do this job. We drive a high-powered diesel wrecker for one with a trailer, in case of big debris. We also have kits that range from everything from corrosive chemical spills to bodily waste removal. Special containers, neutralizers, discrete disposal units, all that stuff. So you have to keep all that useful. Make sure it’s not past the expiration and so on. When we’re not on a job, that’s what we do.

So we got a call out and headed out. There were about ten of us, me and Jake in The Big’un, that’s what we called the wrecker, and then the rest took DOT-provided pickups. You’ve probably seen them. Got the emergency strobes and flags on them.

The first thing I noticed was the smoke. Thick and white, just hanging in the air. FD was already there but they weren’t working on the truck. They were trying to put out what had spread over to the trees. It was a dry year and the woods were parched kindling; everything in a 200 yard radius of that truck was already cinders. The semi had pulled over and was just resting on the side of the road. PD had already blocked off as much of the road as they could to allow some traffic through, though there really wasn’t much.

The trailer had caught fire, that much was very obvious. Whatever had been inside must’ve not been secured properly and had flopped around, fallen over and either made a spark or reacted with another chemical. Whatever it’d been was hot burning too. The driver had been taken to the hospital already for third degree burns. Which was the first odd thing, when I thought about it later. The driver’s cab was fine. Scorched a bit on the back but fine. All the fire damage had been pointing away from it, toward the doors of the trailer.

I remember Jake, who was usually very reserved and placid, booming out orders to tow the trailer away from the original sight a bit. And I was glad too. The flames that were down in the woods were so bright and so hot. We wore sunglasses in the dark, trying to protect our eyes, and the heat was so bad that we were treated for mild burns to our faces and hands afterward. I had a beard then; I shaved it the next day because patches were burnt clean off.

We didn’t stay long. There weren’t any chemicals to clean up, just hauling the ruined trailer away to give the FD room to put that fire out.

When you work this kind of job, you end up seeing the same folks at the same event, you know? Jake was having some coffee when we got back to the call our office the next day. He’d had a haircut, a bad one. And his face was all blistered like he’d been at Daytona for a week. We all slathered up for a while after that to keep from getting ashy and peeling too bad. Jake looks like something out of a Viking movie. The Avengers Thor guy wishes.

“Everything okay?” he finally asked me, in that deep thunder voice he’s got.

“Shoot man, yeah. But crispy… Did they get the fire out?”

Jake nodded. “I know a bunch of them guys. Talked to ‘em this morning. Lot of ‘em out today with arc-eye and burns all over ‘em. Said the driver didn’t make it.”

That stunned me. “Didn’t make it? But the cab was fine!”

Jake had arched a confirming eyebrow.

I didn’t know what arc-eye was, but I googled it later. It’s what happens when welders don’t wear proper protection on their eyes. Looking at the arc like that can lead to severe irritation of the eye and even blindness in some cases.

“Said he died of severe internal trauma and heat-related injuries. Insides were cooked until they burst. Guy’s eyes were clouded white from the heat. Said it took a flyover all the way from Texas to finally put all of the fire out. They had it contained but their guys kept passing out from heat exhaustion.”

I remember being so staggered by this. And I remember looking for news about it later because that was really something. But I never did see any.

And I remember breaking that trailer down. How it was still hot. How the doors had been bent outward, the lock melted solid. How the fire trailed away. In a straight line.

Jake watched me as we worked. The way his eyes rested on me… it was like he was waiting for something. When we got the doors off, he’d taken his gloved hand and run his fingers through the grooves, elbowing me so I’d look at what he was doing.

It still feels so stupid to think this. Because who does this? Who makes this connection? It makes me feel crazy but it. It happened. The grooves weren’t melt patterns, like slag. They were claw marks. Pushed through the metal and ripped backward. Curled like paper. Peeled almost.

I’ve never said out loud what it looked like to me. But Jake made me put my fingers in those grooves. Curve my hand around that metal. Feel what it felt like. Feel the warmth living in that metal. And we looked at each other for a long time, not saying a word. Jake knew and I knew. And that seemed to be all he wanted. For me to know.

I thought about what else Jake had said about the driver. His friend in the FD had been pretty disturbed and had talked to him a while. Jake’s that kind of guy. You can talk to him. Something about him makes it easy for people. Comforting.

“FD lady said the man was screaming when they got to him. Burn victims do that, yeah, but she said he grabbed hold of them and wouldn’t let go. Had to pry him loose. Kept saying “seen” over and over. Y’know sometimes when the body’s been traumatized so bad, the mind can’t handle it. He was scared, though. The pain was bad but he was so scared that he just wanted someone to hold him.”

Sorry if the ending here is abrupt but…? That’s all I got for now. I have to get ready for work, and I’ve been thinking about maybe asking Jake if he’s ever seen anything else like that night. We’ve been on some other calls together but he’s been at this for nigh unto twenty years. We’ll see.

#personal post #drivin down i 20 #(creepypasta)#post 1 #text post #clean up crew #unreality #(JUST. A. STORY.)

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