Chapter 12

"Oh, he wasn't taken by the sickness. He was killed in a wreck a little more than five years ago. I was with him when it happened.

"Daddy and I were headed south on I-55 in Illinois. We had just passed through Springfield and gotten our speed back up. There were plenty of other trucks going both ways so we knew from the CB that chances for a speed cop were slim. Daddy was doing about seventy-two or seventy-three. We weren't coming up on any traffic.

"A bull rack came up behind us and pulled in to the left lane to go around. He wasn't going much faster than us; but like any trucker, he didn't want to give up any speed if he could help it. It wasn't a big deal or anything, just normal truckin. The bull rack had been talking on the radio and we knew what he was doing.

"He'd been telling another driver about his V8 Cat. He'd just had the fuel timing set up in Amarillo a couple of weeks before and he was singing the praises of the mechanic and the shop he took it to. He had straight pipes, no mufflers, and I could hear them talking as he approached. It sounded sort of like a helicopter. It was like you could hear every cylinder fire individually. It really sounded good.

"Just then Daddy said Shit real loud. I hadn't been paying attention to the road. I was just listening to the bull rack's pipes talking. I looked ahead and I could see what Daddy was cursing about. Some asshole in a four-wheeler, some little piece of shit Chevrolet, had missed his exit. He was on the shoulder and his backup lights were on.

"That kind of thing is a real gut check for a driver. Most four-wheeler drivers can't back up worth a shit. Nine times out of ten when you see one backing up the shoulder they get confused and end up darting out into the lane backwards. This one was one of the nine. He shot out about five or six feet into our lane. There was no way we could stop. I just knew we were going to just run his ass right over.

"Daddy had always said he wasn't a sad song truck driver. He swore he would never swerve and take a chance of having a bad wreck just to miss a dumbass that didn't even care enough about his own life to keep out of the way. We probably wouldn't even have been hurt at all if we'd just plowed right over him. The car was small and the front of a big truck is ninety percent heavy metal. We'd have had a ride all right, but even if the car knocked the front axle out from under us, more than likely we would have just plowed straight off onto the shoulder. Fuckups with the front axel don't cause a truck to jack knife and get in really bad shape.

"Just a few seconds before we would have hit I saw, and I'm sure Daddy did too, two little kid's faces pop up to look back out of the rear window of the car. I felt our truck lurch as Daddy yanked on the wheel to miss the car. The bull rack hadn't gotten up even with us yet and he couldn't have known what was happening.

"We slammed into the bull rack and we both headed toward the center median. Our right steer tire just barely clipped the four-wheeler. Daddy and the bull rack both had their brakes locked by now and tire smoke was everywhere. We didn't seem to be going over and I was just holding on and praying.

"Daddy might have known, but I didn't. There was a coal bucket coming up behind us. It was empty but it was still too much. It slammed into the back of our trailer and that kicked us into the bull rack harder.

"When everything got still again the three trucks were all tangled in a big mess in the median. Our trailer was ripped open and our load was scattered everywhere. The bull rack was ripped open also and there were living and dead cows all over.

The coal bucket had added its weight to Daddy's jack knife. It caused the trailer to come on around and mash Daddy into the sleeper wall. Daddy was dead and so was the bull rack driver and the coal bucket driver, but I didn't have a scratch.

"In a while, I don't know how long. The highway cops got there and then a DOT cop came. I knew him; he'd stopped Daddy before a time or two. I remember one time Daddy had shared some of the coffee out of his thermos with the DOT cop while he was writing Daddy up.

The DOT cop's name was Ben Jameson. Daddy actually kind of liked him. He'd told me more than once that Ben wouldn't write you up more than every third time he stopped you. Ben came over to our truck and hopped on the running board on my side to look in. He was surprised to see me still in the truck and he helped me get out, cursing the other cops for not checking on me.

"We hadn't even rolled over and I wasn't even hurt. I was just stunned and couldn't move. I knew Daddy was dead. After Ben got me out he climbed back up to see if he could help Daddy. He got back down and puked. He came over to me to try and console me. He called me by name and was really nice to me. He led me back to his car and put me in the front seat and asked me if I could tell him what happened.

"I did and he got really pissed. He didn't say anything but I knew he was pissed. He got back out and walked over to where the other cops were with the four-wheeler. There were ambulances here by now and the kids had been taken out of the car and were in one of them being checked out.

"I couldn't just sit in the cop car so I went over where the four-wheeler was, just to see what was going on. I could tell the asshole was drunk when I got there. He was cussing about sorry assed truck drivers and about Daddy running over him. I lost it and started screaming about what a dumbass drunk he was trying to back up the shoulder. He got even madder and called me a lying little bitch. He even tried to take a swing at me. Two of the speed cops grabbed hold of him.

"Ben Jameson was really mad now too. He didn't have a nightstick hanging in his belt. I don't know where it was. He pulled one out of one of the other cops belts and told them to let the guy go.

"He said the drunk was probably going to try resisting arrest. They let him go and Ben beat the ever-loving shit out of the guy with that nightstick. The other cops just stood back and kept tellin' the drunk, who was flat on his face now, to be still and quit fighting. I don't know how many time Ben hit the guy but it was a lot. He never hit him on the head or in the face though."

"Ben stopped when he finally got tired. He looked at the other two cops and told them that the drunk had just killed three people, and that the little bit of jail time he was going to get just wasn't enough.

"They didn't do anything but shake their heads in agreement. Then one of them cuffed the drunk's hands behind him. The other cop went to one of the ambulances and came back with a paramedic that was holding a pretty big syringe with a large gauge needle on it.

"The paramedic cut one of the drunk's sleeves off with his bandage shears. He put rubber tubing around his upper arm to slow his blood flow so a vein would stand out. He then drew about thirty ccs of blood. One of the cops took the sample from him and he and another cop got in a patrol car and left.

"Ben told me they were taking it to a lab for a blood alcohol test. That was about it that night. They took me to the hospital for observation. The next day Mom had arranged for me to fly home. Ben Jameson picked me up in his patrol car and took me to the airport and stayed with me until I boarded the plane. He told me he would do his best to see that the asshole got the maximum jail time possible.

"After the asshole's trial Ben called me and told me the he got eight years. Ben said he had friends in the corrections department that would make sure he didn't get time off for good behavior and that he would have an unpleasant stay at the state's expense. That didn't help Daddy of course, but it made Momma and me feel better. A little better at least. Now I know he got the death penalty. He went into prison about four years ago.

I didn't know what to do. Beverly had delivered her story almost in a monotone. Tears were streaming down her cheeks but she wasn't moaning or carrying on. I'd just held her while she talked. Now I started trying to kiss her tears away but I was just wondering what I should do. I decided to just hold her.

"Thank you for listening to that Jack. I loved my Daddy so much and you've just reminded me of him. I didn't mean to spout out such a heavy bummer, but I feel so much better about it now. Do you think we could go back to kissing and hugging and try to pick up where we left off?"

I didn't say anything. I just kissed her lips and she pressed her tongue between mine and hugged me closer. Soon she was pressing her whole body to me, especially her large firm breasts. I was back in the mood right away.

I let my hands wander over her body and soon I was feeling over her firmly rounded ass. She pressed her pelvis into my groin and hummed down low in her throat. She rolled onto me until I was on my back and her torso was on me. Her breasts were pressed into my chest and her legs were astride one of mine. She pressed her sex against me and began rhythmically pushing it into my thigh. I could reach her ass with both hands now and I gripped and fondled it with pleasure.

"You're so good to us Jack. We'd be dead soon if it weren't for you. We all want to make you happy in bed but you end up making us happy. If there's ever anything you want that you're not getting don't be bashful. Just say the word. We want to make you happy."