Jackknife 14
Chapter 14 Des Plains to Onalaska
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The day’s destination was another short one. Onalaska, Wisconsin. Cray believed he could be on the Pacific coast by now if they’d just let him drive his own schedule.
There was no wall cover panel unscrewing work. He did not replace the screws after discovering the sensor control panel the day before. The day was dedicated to making some sense of the wiring. The feeling akin to taking a test he never studied for in school. Except he cared about the outcome of this test.
After a slow examination, the wires were not a mess after all, just numerous and interwoven. They were too thin to have markings, ones the human eye could read anyway, so he followed the bundles downward as far as he could see. No luck. No tags to be found.
Glancing back up to the top he noticed small letters on the panel where the wires are clipped in. If it was a snake, it would’a bit ya, he can hear his inner voice say, mimicking the voice of his father and old Sergeant Major intertwined.
Cray sat up and rummaged through his luggage for a penlight he kept with his tools. Holding it pressed to a cheek he could make out all the labels, one on each side of each clip. They were all abbreviations, forcing him to guess the meaning, except for the first left notation. GPS. The right side branches were RMT and ESC. The left side letters varied the deeper down they were in the control panel but the right sides were all RMT and ESC.
It was a little early for breakfast and the walk down but Cray could think better with some coffee and movement. As he dressed he realized it was down to a guessing game without a manual. Cray hated guessing games, even crossword puzzles with hints. It took practical experience for him to memorize the pre-trip inspection. Textbook in hand, inspecting his own pickup truck for practice. Some days he felt like a fool.
She Beast inspection finished, he called Ken and Bill.
“Good morning Cray,” said Ken not trying to hide the sleepiness in his voice, “You’re early even for you. Traffic should be thinning now we’re headed out of the Chicago area.”
“Couldn’t sleep. Body is telling me something is urgent and I’m listening.”
“All right, we’ll get moving. I didn’t know you had a sixth sense about things. That’s interesting.”
Cray wasn’t listening. He was focused on getting the She Beast started and rolling. It took a minute for all the internal diagnostics to run after start up. The minute seemed long this time. But the console buttons soon all illuminated in green, giving him the free-to-go signal.
Ken and Bill were running to the sedan as Cray left the lot and headed to the on ramp. There was a good hour of darkness left, meaning he would miss the scenic transition from the last of the prairie. The flat farmland, cornfields, quintessential rural Midwest. Twilight would reveal the beginnings of the rolling hills on the way to grand mountain vistas. Cray was too grouchy to care.
Under dark skies and in sparse traffic, Cray’s mind returned to the puzzle of RMT and ESC, again and again. He might have gotten farther if he had given up on the letters and focused on the concept, but his thinking was too shaded, his mood too stormy.
An incoming call was signaled. Cray gritted his teeth and answered.
“This is Cray.”
“Cray, we’re making good time. How about an early break today? Let Bill and me catch up a little.”
Cray’s eyes dropped to the rear view camera. He zoomed in a little and could tell Bill was white-knuckling the steering wheel and hair was a mess. Ken was sitting as far as possible away from Bill, hugging the passenger door. Trouble in paradise.
“Alright, I’ll pull into the next rest area. That good?”
“That will work. Let’s chat again.”
Cray didn’t answer. Instead he tapped the mic button on the GPS screen.
“Computer, where is the next usable rest area?
“The next usable rest area is five miles ahead,” responded Metis, “Recommend moving to the turn off lane in three miles if traffic remains light.”
Cray was impressed despite his mood. The voice of Rhea had spoke.
At the rest area, Bill shuffled off to the restrooms directly, while Ken came over to talk.
“So how are you doing? You seem a little off today.”
“Just a lot on my mind.”
“Something I can help with?”
“Doubt it. You’d have to run it through headquarters and then they will give me an answer I won’t like.”
“Try me. I got you the phone didn’t I?”
“All right. I am trying my best to get this load delivered by the rules, but the rules seem to be against me completing the job. I’m frustrated.”
“That’s fair. I get it. How are you with hypotheticals?”
“Once more in English?”
“What if the rules were set down by our client? What if this client was going to pay a lot of money if Silver Label Logistics could manage an order with all kinds of difficult, even stupid, rules? What if it was a kind of test? A test to see if we could get the job done and be worthy of future jobs.”
“Why not just tell me up front?”
“What if that were one of the rules? Driver doesn’t get to know.”
“Then that’s one dumb client. And Silver Label is dumb for holding out.”
“Fascinating answer, Cray.
“If I may ask, where does your name come from?”
“My family has some roots in the Netherlands. It is an old Dutch name.”
“That’s very interesting. I hope we have a chance to chat again soon. Bill has returned so I’ll turn him over to you while I take my turn. Walk me to the car?”
Cray nodded slowly, acquiescing to the request somewhat reluctantly.
While Ken departed for the restrooms to shave and freshen up, Cray and Bill stood leaning against the sedan. True to form, Bill didn’t have anything to say while he checked the contents of his pockets. He placed some items on the hood of the car while he switched pocket contents. One of the items looked like a new model walkie-talkie and at the top was a label, RMT-ESC. Cray was dumbfounded.
“What does that stand for?”
“Um, Remote to Escort.”
“Oh, I thought they were initials and was very confused.”
“Nah, people can be rotated around. The radio stays with the car.”
“That makes sense.”
While Cray and Bill talked, Ken shaved in the restroom sink. He placed his cell phone on the cement counter, tapped the speech to text button and spoke to the phone.
“Search for etymology of name Cray, c-r-a-y, in old Dutch.”
The browser launched and returned an AI-assisted result.
“The etymology of the Dutch name Kraaij or Kraij is derived from the Dutch word kraai, which means “crow”. It may have originated as a nickname or a geographical name.”
“Search for an overview of symbolism of crow in the old Dutch language.”
“The crow’s symbolism in Old Dutch is a reflection of its dual nature: a smart but potentially dangerous creature associated with the boundary between life and death.”
“Whew, we have a doozy on our hands,” Ken said to the mirror.
Ken finished washing up and returned to the sedan where Cray and Bill waited in silence.
“Hate to break up the conversation, but we should get back on the road. Any problem with an early briefing later this afternoon?”
Cray and Bill shook their heads in unison.
The three returned to their vehicles and started down the interstate, each enveloped within their own thoughts.
Down the road at their destination stop that afternoon, Ken tried to put a good spin on the remainder of their journey.
“Gentlemen, we are halfway complete as of this stop. Traffic is expected to be lighter for the last half of the journey, so more ground will be covered per day. The scheduled stops will be adhered to of course in keeping with the contract. The next stop is Billings.”
“There have been a few incidents and some frustration pain points but that is all behind us. We can start fresh and renewed come tomorrow morning.
“No new news or directives from headquarters.
“Does anyone have anything?”
Cray and Bill shook their heads in silence.
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