Chapter 8: The Truck Driver

Mike Gleason was a long-haul truck driver. He’d inherited his old 1998 Peterbilt from his father. Mike was mostly just homeless; in their family, his sister had become a veterinarian, while Mike flunked out of every class he ever took. The last school grade he’d completed was 7th grade. He was now 55 years old. His hair was grey and black, ragged and long. His beard was the same. He basically lived in the truck, hauling trailers for a friends’ business; as long as his friend helped him with his drug tests, Mike would drive loads seven days a week, making just enough money to buy food and a once-a-week shower at some truck stop. The job also helped Mike keep his parole officer happy. But that’s another story.

Mike was getting older, but he wasn’t getting any less horny. He used his cell phone, his only real possession, when he was in his bunk, scanning young girl clothing ads online and jerking off as he did. It was his only hobby. That and smoking pot now and then. Now that so many states had legalized it, it was much safer to buy some now and then. Still, he appreciated the truck. It gave him a place to sleep, a job, some money to eat with. Sometimes, he’d see some young girl at a truck stop somewhere. He usually just stared, imagining her naked. Once he’d gotten a quick picture as a teenage girl walked past his truck. He’d jerked off to that for days.

As Mike drove hour after hour, his mind roamed endlessly. He hadn’t had sex in like twenty or more years. He was always horny, and young girls were often on his mind as he rolled down one highway after another. He found himself staring at young teens at the truck stops and travel plazas. Summertime, so it was shorts and long, bare legs. He’d thought, or fantasized, about what it would take to rape a girl, his olny real choice when it came to having sex again. Face it- he looked old, creepy and homeless. Not even older women wanted anything to do with him. The only way he was going ‘get any’ was if he forced someone. But how? Just how risky was it? Well, it all came down to what the girl knew afterwards. Keep her in the dark, they’ll have nothing to tell the police. Don’t want to kill her; he’s not a murder. Just a horny perv is all. He’d have to be sure no cameras were around. It was always a risk these days. So, he started parking in the shadows; places he knew the camera wouldn’t be pointed. He sat in his seat sometimes, eating, looking around, seeing if some opportunity presented itself. None ever did. He’d put a small rubber club on his dash; perfect for hitting some girl over the head with, without killing her. He also kept a ski mask with it, and a roll of duct tape in the door. Still, the opportunities were never right- too many people; too much light; other drivers nearby. Always some reason it wasn’t right. Oh well, back to the swimsuit ads.

Then one night, Mike was just parking for the night, having a last cigarette, in the dark corner of an old truck stop. Next door was a KOA campground. Hmmm. He watched as he smoked. Took a few hits from a joint he had. He watched people sitting outside their tents and campers. He noticed a girl, a young girl, playing with a dog. He quickly grabbed his rubber club, mask, tape and a cheese stick. Maybe...

Mike climbed out of the cab, keeping the light switches off. He moved behind the truck, ducked under the trailer behind the drive wheels in the dark shadow there. Sure enough, she was still nearby. He took the cheese stick, broke a piece off, made a sound for the dog. The dog turned; he tossed the cheese his way. The dog sniffed at it, went to it. The girl called him.

“Bucky, come on boy! Come on, Bucky.” He tossed more cheese, drawing the dog closer. When he was maybe ten feet away, he tossed the rest down towards the back of the trailer. The small dog ran down after it. The girl was following him, calling to him. As she went by, still unaware of Mike’s presence, Mike jumped up, hit her on the back of the head with the rubber club. “Uh!” She fell to her knees, down to one hand, almost falling down completely. He grabbed the ski mask, shoved it over her head backward, so she couldn’t see anything. He grabbed her; one hand over her mouth, one arm around her waist. Was anyone was watching? Had anyone seen that? He looked around but could see no one.

The girl moved some. Had he hit her hard enough? He thought about hitting her again with the rubber billy club, but instead just focused on getting the fuck out of site quick. He dragged her into the darkness under the trailer; dragging her to the other side, constantly looking around. He pulled her up, then moved to the front until he got to the cab. She was starting to struggle now; making some noise. He slammed her head into the steel footsteps on the side of the truck. “Uh!” She got quiet; stunned again. Mike grabbed the duct tape from the steps where’d he’d left it. First things first. He tore a piece off, pulled her ski mask up some, then quickly put it over her mouth. A second piece, and her wrists were taped some too. He opened the door, tossed the tape inside. He grabbed her with both arms; lifted her easily up into the cab. She was light; a young girl he guessed, or just small. Just a kid he guessed. He pushed her into the right seat, then into the back. She was starting to come around again, starting to resist, kicking her legs as she started to struggle with the little bit of tape on her wrists.

Susan Brickall was barely eighteen years old; just yesterday in fact. She stood only 5’ 1” tall, weighed 105 lbs, with medium-length soft blonde hair. She actually looked much younger. She was thin, had hardly any boobs, but she did have a very cute butt and a very cute face. Usually, you couldn’t hardly see her breasts at all, but if she didn’t wear anything under her shirt, you could see her boobs pressing out slightly and her nipples. Being one of the smallest girls in her senior class, she sometimes would undo a button or two and watch boys catching a glimpse down to her more exposed chest. Tonight, she wore her t-shirt, shorts, a small bra and pink panties. She had suddenly found herself taped and crammed into a truck or something; she couldn’t see; she couldn’t speak; she couldn’t hardly move. She was scared to death. They’d warned them years ago about things like this. Bad men kidnapping girls. She struggled to remember what they’d said. Make noise. But she couldn’t. Run away. How? She was panicking, crying, struggling to get free. Then she’d got punched really hard in her face. It felt like her whole face was broken. Then wham! Another punch to her face. Her lip quickly swelled up. Wham! Another punch hit her in her face. Her eye felt like it was swelling closed. Everything was dazed.

Not five minutes ago, Sue had been out walking her new dog Bucky while her family sat at the campsite. Bucky was always running off and wasn’t very good at coming when you called him. He ran beside a big truck and suddenly everything had gone black. She’d come around moments later, was so disoriented she didn’t know where she was or what had happened. Maybe she’d hit her head? Then the shoving, the pushing, and the punches had started.

Mike slammed her into the bunk and punched her hard in her face three times. With the ski mask on, she couldn’t see it coming and took the full force of each hard blow. She went pretty limp then. He pushed her over, face down, and taped her wrists up better. He jumped up front and looked around. Nobody looking for her yet. He saw the dog walking back to towards the camper. He turned, quickly taped her ankles together, taped her wrists again and then climbed into the driver’s seat. The truck was running; it always was. He released the brakes, put it in gear and drove out of the truck stop. He got on the interstate, heading west again.

Mike was beaming. He’d spent many, many hours thinking over every detail of various plans. Too many variables, though. Yet this time, it had all come together. He was beaming. As far he knew, nobody saw it. She couldn’t scream or fight now, but he could hear her struggling back there. Man, she was right here! He grinned; lit the joint he’d been smoking when he’d first seen her. He couldn’t stop smiling. Man, it had actually worked. Wow! He wondered how old she was. She was very short, looked like a kid. At last, no more swimsuit ads. He laughed, lit another Marlboro. He made sure his cell phone was charged. He planned on lots of pictures and videos.

About twenty minutes down the road, he came to a rest area; drove through. No place to park away from others. He drove on. He’d been tired before, but now he was wide awake. The next rest area had one spot open; next to a trailer with no truck. Perfect. He parked it carefully, set the brake, turned the AC temperature down and turned off the lights. He pulled the side curtains around the side and front windows.

He turned to his prize. Mike climbed in back, quickly got undressed. Naked, he put on a ski mask so she couldn’t recognize him. He had baby oil on the shelf, so he put a little in his hand and got his now hard dick all slicked up. It got even harder, longer as he rubbed it. He reached down to the kid. No clothing ads this time. He turned on the bunk light, pulled the mask off of her. She looked to be about twelve or thirteen, maybe. Skinny little girl. Nice blonde hair. She had on a t-shirt with some sort of church symbol on it. Some shorts; one sneaker. He looked around; found the other one on the floor. She had big glasses, and they were all askew, so he fixed them. She was very cute; a real babe alright. Somebody’s little baby girl. He tugged off her one shoe. She kept kicking; struggling, yelling into the tape over her mouth. He suddenly grabbed her face, slapped her twice hard, then gripped her head tightly.

“Listen up, little girl. You keep quiet, no screaming, not a word! Understand?! You do what I say, you can go home real soon, real soon. You don’t do what I say, I’ll fuck you up but good. I’ll make you hurt a lot! Might even kill you if you don’t obey! You understand me!?” He’d read that somewhere. First, put the fear of physical injury or even death into them. They’ll cooperate better. He glared into her eyes. Make them think you’re crazy.

“Rule number 1: You always, always keep your eyes wide open, and your mouth shut. Not one fucking word. Not one.”

She stared at him, eyes wide, scared, trembling. Big tears streamed down her face. He leaned down, licked her tears. Nice. He took the tape and pulled it from her mouth. She started to say something but he slapped her quickly. “Not a fucking word, bitch!”

Sue lay on some kind of mattress. She was in the back of some big truck it seemed like. A real diesel smell. The man had pulled the mask off of her. She saw he had a ski-mask on but was otherwise completely naked! Despite the mask, he obviously had long, grey hair and a long, shaggy beard sticking out. He fixed her glasses. She saw she was in some kind of bunk bed. The man was big, old. He smelled horrible. The bunk smelled horrible. What did he want? What...?

Mike took out his big hunting knife, mostly for show. He cut the tape from her ankles, then from her wrists. As soon as he did, she quickly curled up in the corner. “What, what, what do you want? You have to let me go...” She said quietly, winching, not wanting to be hit again. She couldn’t see anything out of her left eye. He stared at her, like he was looking at a birthday cake. He said, “What’s your name, girl?”

“Sue, Susan, Brickall,” she sobbed.