Christmas Eve on I-80

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Bloodthirstybutcher
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Christmas Eve on I-80

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Sat Dec 24, 2022 11:54 am

Christmas Eve on I-80




It's cold.

That's an understatement... it's very... very cold.

The kind of cold that seems to pass right through you when the wind blows, spinning the snow into little tornados on the highway. The kind that stings your skin anywhere you've failed to cover adequately. The tingling burn in my reddening fingertips after winching this car out of the snow is enough evidence of that. Not even the hot packs I've stuffed into my steel-toed boots seem to helping. Now that the sun has set... it's only going to get colder.

Why do I keep doing this to myself year after year?

I may have volunteered to work the day shift, but with the rest of the fleet calling in sick with whatever excuse they've made to get the night off, now I have to pull a double. There's no one else. I understand wanting the night off to spend with their families, but I can't help but feel like I always get the shaft because there's no one waiting for me back home. And just so we're clear, I don't hold any kind of religious sentiment for the day. I may not believe in immaculate conception, but I do believe in company paid holidays.

"Mommy, how is Santa gonna know where we are if we aren't at grandma's tonight?" The little brat in the passenger seat next to me asks. There's so little room for passengers in my truck that she has to sit on her mother's lap as we make our way down the freeway... something I'm sure I'll hear an earful about when my boss reviews the dashcam come Tuesday. What was I supposed to do, leave one of them on the side of the freeway in this bitter cold with a blizzard well on its way? Sometimes what's legal and what's right get muddled in this job.

"Don't worry, sweetie... Santa has special magic... he always knows where you are," her mother replies, giving the little toe-head a peck on the top of her head and squeezing her tighter for warmth. I can't help but laugh at the situation, these two are lucky to be alive, and all this kid can think about is her presents hidden away in the trunk of the Chrysler Sebring propped on the stinger.

The pair were on their way out west for their annual family Christmas when the woman hit an icy patch in the road and spun out at seventy miles an hour. If she hadn't hit the snow piled up on the side of the interstate, she probably would have rolled the vehicle. The passenger side of the car is totally fucked, but goddamn it could have been so much worse.

"I can't thank you enough for coming out here on Christmas Eve, sir," the woman tells me, clearly trying to end the uncomfortable silence inside the cramped cab of my wheel lift. "I'm sure you have family at home you'd rather be with than dragging our car out of the ditch."

"No worries, ma'am," I politely reply. "It's all part of the job. That's what we're here for." Just a nice and vague enough answer to quell anymore unwelcome small talk. I may not have a family waiting for me, but I sure as shit don't want to be here.

"You from around here?" She asks.

Fuck. So much for avoiding small talk.

"Yup," I reply, "about twenty miles back that-a-way actually."

"You wouldn't happen to know a place we can stay for the night, would you? I was hoping to get ahead of this storm, but I kinda screwed the pooch on that one, didn't I?" She chuckles, and I politely feign one myself.

"How do you screw a pooch?" The brat asks, which elicits a genuine laugh from me this time. Her mother's eyes grow wide and she starts laughing out loud. Even though I want to stay angry about the situation, this woman has such an attractive, infectious laugh that all of my misplaced contempt for her kinda melts away.

Why am I being such a bitter asshole about this? It's not this woman's fault I'm stuck out here tonight. She's more put out by the whole situation than I am, and she's surprisingly in pretty good spirits, considering.

"Yeah, about ten more miles up the road here," I explain, "there's a motel and a service station. Not sure if they'll be able to fit you in, but you can talk to them about that after the holiday."

"The motel or the service station?" She quips, and I chuckle a little more. "Is the place descent, or should I have brought my runt spray?"

"The motel or the service station?" I snark back... and she laughs again. God, I could listen to that laugh all night. She really is quite pretty... younger... with curly, shoulder length brown hair, dark eyes... and a smile to match that great laugh.

"Oh shit!" She suddenly exclaims as she removes her cell phone. "My husband is going to be worried sick about me!"

Husband, huh? So much for that fantasy.

"He drove out ahead of us yesterday because the little one here still had school," she explains as she scrolls through her contacts, "he's gonna be thrilled to hear about the car."

Of course she has a husband. Besides the kid on her lap (which should have been my first clue, duh), why wouldn't someone have already snatched a woman like this up? I feel myself slipping back into my resentment for her.

I'm such an asshole.

The remainder of the drive to the motel is filled with the happy couple's conversation. The woman is still on the phone when she gets out of my vehicle, but she signals me to wait a moment with her raised finger and walks inside the office with her child. I'm sure she just wants me to hang around long enough to make sure she can get a room, which is understandable. I wait patiently, staring blankly at the flickering neon in the vacancy sign and enjoying the return to silence.

Not that I'm thinking about anything other than that laugh.

After a few minutes she and the brat return. "Got the last room," she tells me as she places the kid inside the cab and pulls herself back up into the truck. I'm a little confused as to why she's doing so.

She begins to fumble around inside her purse looking for something. Hey! Perhaps I'll at least get a tip out of all this! She suddenly stops... and the look of embarrassed disappointment on her face is all I need to know what she's going to say next.

"I'm sorry... I don't have any cash for a tip."

I knew it.

She looks around outside the truck, then her eyes fix on the truck stop across the street. "Tell ya what, are you due for a break anytime soon?"

"Uh...," I'm not sure I know where she's going with this. She certainly doesn't seem like the type to...

"I've still got my credit card, can I at least buy you some dinner?" She holds up her Visa and waves it with an inviting grin.

...what did I think was about to happen? This mother and wife was going to take me into one of the men's room stalls and polish my Yule log while the kid helped herself to the candy aisle? Jesus Christ, I really am a pathetic... lonely... piece of shit.

I think about turning her down so I can just get on my way, but that grin is just as intoxicating as her laugh. "Actually... I think that would be nice," I tell her. Just what the fuck am I doing to myself here? Always the glutton for disappointment, I guess.

I pull the tow truck and it's cargo across the street and park it out of the way of the pumps. The three of us make our way inside as quickly as possible, as the wind chill is now hitting -20. I hold the door open for the lady and her brat, the pleasant warmth of a blasting furnace hitting our faces just as we enter. To the left, there's the gas station proper; to the right, the all-night cafe. After stomping the snow from our boots, we veer right.

Having passed by this place countless times over the years, even filling up the truck at the diesel pump, I realize I've never actually been inside. With the grease stains on the walls and the profanities carved into the table tops, the place doesn't disappoint with the picture I'd already painted in my mind. It smells good though.

The waitress, who looks about as thrilled to be working tonight as I am, seats us without saying a word... something my passenger and I share a knowing smile about after the jowly hag steps away.

"I'm just ruining everyone's holiday tonight, aren't I?" She quips. I chuckle a little in response while I peruse the menu.

Stop trying to make me fall in love with you lady.

"Mmmm pancakes sound good," I think out loud.

"Breakfast for dinner?" She says with amusement, "aren't you the big, bad rebel."

Ok, I may have been out of the game for a while... a good, long while actually... but this really feels like flirting.

"What can I say, I'm a man of refined tastes," I quip back.

That laugh again. For fuck sakes man, stop thinking with your dick.

The bow-legged waitress hobbles back to our table with some glasses of water and coffee, ready to take our order. The woman decides she wants pancakes as well, while the brat gets a cheeseburger and hot chocolate. Again, the old crone leaves without saying a word.

"I hope you like spit in your batter," I joke. I pause for a moment... is that what I've been like? Am I any better than that old sour puss? Fuck, is turning into her what I have to look forward to?! Some dark Christmas specter in a blue apron, right out of Dickens, here to show me my future if I don't change my ways?

"Love it!" The woman jokes back. "Maybe I can get her to throw some hair in for free." She winks and giggles some more.

Whoever your beau is lady, I'm not sure I've ever been as envious of anyone in my life.

The woman props her chin up with her interlocked fingers and leans forward as we wait for what will inevitably pass as food. "So, you didn't answer me before... do you have family waiting for you at home?"

Ok, now I'm almost positive she's flirting with me.

For the first time, I want to be truthful with her. "No... its just me. Kinda how I got stuck with this gig in the first place."

"What'd ya mean?" She inquires further, staring into my soul with those big, dreamy eyes... like black holes ready to pull me in.

"No attachments means I'm available."

She cocks her head a little at the comment, then I realize how that could have sounded. "...for work... I'm available work."

Even with that slight cock of the head, she didn't seem particularly offended by my poorly worded response, just... intrigued.

"That's rough," she offers her sympathy. "Don't expect you get paid any different for bailing them out either?"

"Hard work is only ever rewarded with more work," I joke.

"Ain't that the fuckin' truth," she agrees, then cups her hands over her mouth when she realizes she's just dropped an f-bomb with her child present. The brat seems unfazed, concentrating intensely on the ice cube balancing at the end of her spoon, wanting to drop it into her piping hot cocoa to cool it off. We both share another laugh... and then there's a long silence. Not an awkward one like back in the truck... just two people enjoying each other's company in the predicament fate decided to drop them in.

In about fifteen minutes the frowning server arrives with our meal, clanging the plates down on the table to emphasize her contempt for us. Again, the woman and I can barely control our laughter when she turns her back. I don't have much time left on my break, so I begin to inhale my flapjacks.

"That eager to get away from us, are you?" The woman jokes. I pause, feeling like I've actually offended her. Now, seeing that she's made me feel guilty, she too begins to shovel her pancakes into her mouth. Hers are completely downed in syrup and she keeps a little pool of extra to the side so she can dip each bite into even more.

Suddenly, even over the sound of our smacking lips, I can hear a sort of high pitched grunt coming from near the diner bar. It's an unmistakable sound, as it's the only sound their kind can make.


Runts.
They've got runts.


I easily spot the glue trap it's found itself stuck to near the wall. The flailing and screaming creature appears to be male, judging by its build... and what appears to be a pair of teensy testicles squeezed between its body and the trap. I instantly lose my appetite. I toss the fork down on the plate and sit back further in the booth, something that raises a look of concern on my new companion's face.

"What is it?" She asks. "Are the pancakes that bad? Mine are ok."

"Over there," I gesture with a nod in the creature's direction. "I wasn't exactly expecting five stars from a gas station diner, but still..."

The woman looks over her shoulder for a moment, then shrugs nonchalantly and continues eating her meal.

"You're not at all grossed out by that?!" I ask surprised.

She shrugs again, "it isn't hurting anybody. Probably just trying to escape the cold like the rest of us."

"It's not a house cat or dog, lady," I contest through my astonished laughter, "those things carry diseases... and they breed like rabbits. They got their nickname just as much because they're small as because it almost sounds like 'rats.' Bet the walls of this place are filled with nests."

"They've gotta have somewhere to live, too," she replies. "And that whole disease thing is just a myth, they don't carry any more or less than we do. A lot of that stigma stems from prejudices that developed during the pandemic. People still fear them and find them repulsive because of a disease they no longer need to fear."

"You don't have to tell me about the pandemic, lady... I lived through it." I respond amusedly.

Her demeanor changes to one of sympathetic pity, "I'm... I'm so sorry... I... I didn't know... that must have been awful. If you don't mind me saying, you don't look all that old."

"One of the few positives of being on the chubby side," I quip once again, "the fat smooths out the wrinkles."

She smiles shyly, not wanting to laugh too hard at that one out of politeness, I suppose.

"...but yeah," I continue, "it was pretty bad. I was just in boy when it happened, but I still remember the months of not being able to leave the house (something that would drive any child crazy), the supply chain issues and blackouts because there weren't enough people left to push the buttons and crank the levers that needed pushing and cranking. Rioting, murder, inflation, looting... the discontinuation of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups...," I continue with a smirk, "you know... hell on earth."

"My parents talk about it from time to time," she says, "something like a third of the world's population were affected? That had to be scary."

"It was, but that wasn't the half of it. When it came out that the virus had escaped a military research facility in the Utah desert, the only thing that saved us from World War III was that our government also possessed the vaccine for the very monster they set loose on the world. I'm not sure what would have been a worse fate, nuclear annihilation... or reduced to a tiny, grunting idiot... like that poor sap with his cock stuck in the glue over there." I didn't particularly care whether or not the brat heard the word "cock."

Just then, the waitress spotted her catch, and picked it and the glue strip up off the floor. She began to peel the sheet away gently, oddly trying not to injure the undesirable vermin. I couldn't control my spit take when his little prick stretched and snapped back against his body once it released from the sticky surface, eliciting a tiny yelp from the miniature man. Even the brat thought this was hilarious.

The server dangled the runt by its ankle and briskly made her way towards the front doors. There, she tossed the tiny man unceremoniously into a snow pile and brushed her hands off on her apron. I hope she is planning on actually washing them.

"You know it'll just find its way back in if you don't kill 'em," I inform the waitress.

"Yeah," she sighs, "but I just can't find it in my heart to kill the poor little things. It ain't their fault they are the way they are."

"See," my passenger teases me, "I'm not the only one who has sympathy for them."

"Sympathy is what helped spread the disease beyond the point of containment." I argue. Not a malicious argument by any means, just a friendly debate. I'll be damned if I'm gonna let myself get all bent out of shape over some measly runt. "Doctors and scientists and politicians were far more concerned with trying to cure the infected than protecting those who weren't. It spread fast. And here's something they probably don't teach you in the history books... if not for some brace whistleblower, the military may have just held on to their precious little vaccine... dooming the entire world out of political embarrassment."

The old waitress hung around to listen to my side of things and interrupted, "it's true, but I lost my husband to it. I can't help but look at the poor little things and see him." It was the first true sign of warmth the old woman has shown since we walked in, and I may have spotted the signs of tears beginning to well in her eyes.

I feel like I've got a sense about people, and I started to piece together why she'd been so cold to us. Christmas had meant a lot to her and her husband, and even after all these years, she was still struggling. Her attitude had nothing to do with us... I really am an asshole.

"I'm sorry to hear that ma'am," I offer my condolences. "I lost my sister to it... so I know what you've been through."

The waitress forced a grin and patted me on the shoulder, but had to excuse herself as her emotions had grown too overwhelming to suppress any longer.

The woman across the cluttered table can only stare back at me, suddenly finding herself lost for words. It's understandable. What do you say to a revelation like mine? Does she feel sorry for me? Is she still wondering why I'm so cold towards the runts, especially given my history?

Yeah, my older sister contracted the virus... shrank down to the size of a squirrel... then lost almost all of her cognitive function. We'd urged her to get the vaccine, but she'd read so much misinformation on the internet about the side effects that she was afraid to do so. The weekly visits to the hospital with my parents... watching the person I knew and loved slowly disappear through a small, glass window that protected us from the disease she still carried.

I still have nightmares about it.

After she shrank, my sister became more animal than person, the virus reducing the human brain's capacity for thought just as much as their physical size. And then she disappeared... ran away out of fear of the giant friends and family she no longer recognized as such. It tore at my heart for years... destroyed our family... perhaps it's why I am the way I am.

Not wanting to sour the pleasant mood any more than I already had, I lean in and try to add some levity. "If we're being fair," I whisper, "she probably gave the little guy a death sentence by tossing him outside in this weather anyway."

The woman pulls a bit of a spit take herself, shielding her eyes and masking her own emotions behind that terrific smile of hers.

I look at my watch and realize I'm over twenty minutes past the end of my break, "shit! I'm gonna hear about this!" I stand up from the booth, swing my coat over my shoulder, and zip it back up.

"Do you really have to go?" The woman asks.

"Yeah, mister... do you really have to go?" The brat parrots.

"Unfortunately yes," by this time I'm not just being nice, I really do want to stay. Instinctually, I begin to remove my wallet to pay for our meal.

"Put that away," the woman orders me, "I said it's my treat."

"You sure?"

"Positive," she replies.

"Well, much obliged, ma'am," I thank her in my best John Wayne gate. I can tell by the loom on her face that she has no idea who he is, which I find quite amusing. "I'll drop your car off at the service station, it's just two blocks down from here. Again, I don't know when they'll be able to get to it. It's gonna need to go to a body shop for certain."

She nods and thanks me, "you've done more than enough, I think I'll just give my husband a call and have him come pick us up tomorrow. Thanks again for your good service... and for the good company."

That's when I realize she was never flirting with me at all, but I'm also not all that disappointed by it. She couldn't be with her family tonight, so she decided to make due with what she had... and was kind enough to want to include me. An impromptu Christmas Eve dinner. I tilt my hat and grin wordlessly before taking my exit. Outside the diner, I peer back inside one last time through the window, which seems to glow even brighter from within in the surrounding darkness. She's on her phone, presumedly with her husband again. And once again, she's all smiles from ear to ear. The brat is trying to yell something into the phone, but the pane of glass prevents me from hearing any of it. It's nothing I'm a part of anyway.

I feel content and sad all at once. I enjoyed my short time with them, hell... this was probably the best Christmas I've had in a long time... and I feel grateful to this woman that she gave me this gift.

But I know this is it. I'm still a lonely, overweight, middle-aged man. The big four-oh has come and gone, which makes me as invisible to the opposite sex as the air itself. When I finish work, I'll go home to my empty apartment and drown my undesired solitude in a six pack of cheap beer. I deeply wish I could have had a family like that, a wife like her... and I know it's all my own doing that I don't.

I know I'll never see this woman again... but with her simple, kind gesture... she made me feel like I matter. I never even asked her her name...



"Haaaaaaaaaaallllp-p-p-p"



"The fuck was that?" The faint, barely audible voice startles me out of my self-pitying thoughts. I scan the perimeter of the parking lot for its source. Someone sounds like they're in serious trouble.

"Hhhhaaaaaaaaaeeeelllp-p-p mm-m-meeeeee," the voice repeats. I step forward and unconsciously kick something at my feet when I do. There's a faint scream as the object spins once and rolls away from the impact. This time I know the sound is coming from below me.

A discarded soda fountain cup rolls a little on the concrete surface and scattered ice melt, just enough motion to catch my eye. Then I see it... I see her. The backs of pair of tiny pink hands gripping the edge of the cup... and the shivering creature they belong to peaking around the lip of the lidless 32 ouncer. Another runt. I shouldn't be surprised in a place like this... but surely it didn't just speak?!


"P-p-pleeeeease... hhhaaaaaaeeelp... m-m-mmmmeeeee."


Jesus fucking Christ! It... she... sure as shit did! It's visibly a struggle for this little thing to do so, sounding almost like a recording of someone's voice played backward...

Turn me on dead man

Gar-man-boz-i-a

... but she's trying like hell to form words! And even stranger, she isn't scurrying away and hiding like most of her kind would. She looks apprehensive, sure... but she isn't running.

I crouch down and pick up the discarded cup she's using for what little shelter from the biting wind it's providing for her. I feel her barely noticeable weight slide and drop to the bottom with a gentle thump as I rotate the container upright... then I gaze inside with wide-eyed astonishment.

There she is, standing back up and bracing her little body against the curved wall of the sorry shelter, of which must now feel like a prison to her. As if the fact that she can speak, sort of anyway, isn't strange enough... she's also draped herself in tattered rags. The speaking I might be able to dismiss as some kind of trick. I've heard of people trying to domesticate these things, and perhaps they taught her to speak as one orders a dog to. But the clothing... I've never seen one smart enough to cover itself. It isn't nearly enough to shield her from the frigid temperature, as her arms and legs are still bare, nearly beet red from the freeze... but astoundingly she's actually tried.

"Plll-weeeease... haaaaeeeellppp... meeeee," she repeats again. I can feel her shivering vibrating the cup in my fingers.

I blink several times and slap my face to check if I'm really awake. Finding a clothed runt who can also speak... I may as well have found a tap dancing turtle. Once the initial shock wears off, I rush back to my truck and fire up the engine. It almost doesn't start as the diesel fuel has already started to gel in the cold, but the old gal is pretty reliable and the heater does its job quickly.

Having set the cup in the arm rest cup holder for a moment to warm my hands against the vents, I pick it back up and gently dump this amazing creature into my waiting palm. She backs up out of instinct, bracing herself against my curled fingers until she has nowhere else to go. She's particularly small for one of her kind, about as tall as my middle finger, and looks oh so delicate. One or both of her parents had to have been especially small for their race. Her hair is matted against her head from years of neglect and her skin is coated in filth, her hands and feet blackened with grime. She appears to be in her twenties, but it's hard say. The life of a runt can age them beyond their years.

Here I am, sympathizing with them as well. The old waitress's words suddenly pop back into my head:


"I can't help but look at the poor little things and see him."


And then I think about my sister.

I don't project her onto the runt in my palm, but I do think about how much I miss her... about how I couldn't help her... but I can help THIS pathetic, tiny woman. It's been a long time since I've seen one as anything other than, well... "other."

Slowly and carefully, I hold my hand up to the vent and let the warm air wash over the trembling girl. She continues to hold her eyes on me, but leans into the refreshing heat finally blowing her way. After a few minutes, she finally stops shivering.

"Fffffank... y-y-y-you," she stammers, trying so desperately to force the words to come out properly.

It isn't just a trick.

There's intelligence there. Well... maybe not much. She's thoroughly entertaining herself by turning the dial that opens and closes the heating vent over and over, giggling as the hot wind hits her with varying degrees of force. But she's smarter than any other runt I've ever come across, showing signs of curiosity instead of only fear. I wonder if there's others like her, if somehow the mental degradation had only affected those who were initially infected with the disease. Perhaps their offspring are regaining the ability to learn. If that's the case, could they be like the rest of us... mentally that is... in just a few generations? What would that world even look like?

"You're welcome," I tell her, and she smiles brightly and proudly with the knowledge that she said the correct words. She understands me.... holy fuck! She must have observed the interactions between normal sized people, learning what speech and language are. She is intelligent.

With my free hand, I retrieve a wet nap from the dispenser sitting inside the arm rest and fold an end into a little triangle. "If you understand... can you raise your arms for me?"

The little runt tilts her head out of confusion, and at first I think I might be asking too much of her, but she does as I've asked... and I'm left flabbergasted.

"Hold still, ok... this isn't going to hurt." Now my hands are shaking, but not from the outside chill. Despite what I've just told her, I don't know if it'll hurt her or not. What feels like the most gentle, carefully placed touch for me could feel like something completely different altogether to someone as small as she. She lets out an adorable little yelp as the cold, wet nap makes contact with her bare flesh.. and I snap the wipe back out of fear that I've hurt her. After my heart checks itself back into regular rhythm, I realize I haven't actually harmed the poor thing, but just caught her off guard with the cold of the nap. "Sorry about that, I probably should have warned you. Just hold still."

Gently pressing the soft towelette against her delicate skin, I begin to clear the grime away. First one arm, then the next. The hands take a little longer, as they're almost black with filth. Each of her tiny fingers barely registers to my touch from beneath the wipe. The look of awe on her face as I finish, taking in the true tone of her own skin, is so sweet I think my teeth might just rot out of my mouth. God knows how long it's been since she's seen herself under all that dirt. And then even more adorably, she lifts one of her legs to signal that she'd like me to continue.

"Alright, little one... as you wish." I can feel the little details in her appendage as I clean it, just as I had in her arms... the tiny muscles... the boney spots in the knee and ankle... the toes spreading as I caress them with the damp cloth. This makes her giggle, as even my meaty fingers seem gentle enough to tickle her. All of her parts... just like a normal person's... but impossibly tiny and fragile. For the first time in so very long, I can see one of them as a person again.

After finishing her other leg, I rotate the wet nap for a fresh, clean corner. With extreme caution, I bring it to her tiny face... and as I do, she actually leans into my touch. The barely perceivable bumps on the other side of the cloth from the pads of my fingers can only be caused by her nose and ears. When the task is completed, I can finally see what a truly beautiful, precious little thing she is.

God, even using the term 'runt' feels crass now... especially with her.

"Well would you look at that," a say with the calmness of a parent holding their small child, "there's a pretty young lady underneath all that filth."

She gives me another confused tilt of her head, then pulls the dirty nap from my hand. She analyzes the grimy patches, searching underneath the cloth in vain for what I quickly realize is the tiny woman I spoke of. The almost sad look she gives me when she doesn't find this new, nonexistent friend is almost more than I can take. I have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

"I was talking about you, you funny little thing," I explain with a caring tap on the top of her head and take the towelette back. Her skin is still so flushed from who knows how much time she's spent out in the cold, but I can swear I see her blush a little. The fact that she actually seems to understand at least some of what I say is absolutely boggling my mind.

Suddenly, she pulls her threadbare little toga over her head, and the sad-looking garment falls apart as she does so. She points to the rapidly drying towel in my hand and then back at herself. Just fifteen minutes ago I wouldn't have paid a single thought to seeing one of these things in the buff. They're always naked, living on the fringes of the rest of us like opossums or raccoons. It's a wonder how they haven't all died off in the brutal winters this part of the world seems to have been cursed with. Now I find myself unsure where to place my gaze.

I extend the little wet nap back to the miniature girl, "uh...um... perhaps you'd like to do the rest yourself?" I look away, feeling ashamed for seeing her in such a state of undress. She doesn't take the cloth... in fact, she places both of her hands around my index finger and pulls it and the baby wipe towards her until they make contact with her stomach.

Oh boy... here we go.

When I look back down, the minuscule girl is pouting at me and trying to show me what she wants by wiggling my comparatively oversized pointer against her naked body. Now I'm the one blushing.

"Uh... oh... okay... I guess." Trying to be a gentleman, I close my eyes and lightly pinch her dainty body between my fingers and work the wipe back and forth against her skin like I'm rolling a cigarette. I'm trying to be clinical about it... but it's hard not to notice the soft, shapely feel of her perfectly scaled, rounded little behind and gravity defying breasts. Jesus fuck, I must be lonely if I'm breaking into a sweat over a runt.

But she's more than that, isn't she.

Opening a single eye to peak at my handiwork, I feel satisfied with the job I've done and toss the moist nap on the floor... worried that she might want me to get a little more intimate with my scrubbing if I hover the thing around too much longer. She's visibly confused by the gesture and stares back at me with that same longing pout. This is when she realizes the scraps she's been covering herself with are no longer wearable.

"Um... hold on there, little lady... let me see if I can do something about that." For the moment I place her on the dash, which is still quite cold, so she pulls her knees up to her chest to conserve her body heat. Once again, I dive into the veritable rat's nest that is the arm rest compartment to retrieve a Kleenex from the packet I keep in there, along with the expired ketchup packets and damage waivers that fill up the rest of the space. There's also a rubber band at the bottom, among the paper clips, dust, and crumbs, which should serve nicely as a belt. After folding the thin sheet over a couple of times and punching a hole in the middle for her head, I ask her to stand up.

This time I take her naked form in full view. If she were one of us, she'd have all the guys going crazy over her... but there's also a sad reality to what I'm seeing as well. The hellish life she's lived is scarred all over her body, like a road map of the terrors and challenges she's faced. I don't mean to gawk, but I feel even worse about the terrible things I'd said about these creatures... er... people... earlier, back inside the diner.

Once I can snap myself out of my pitying regard for her, I bring the tissue down over her head, then double the rubber band over and wrap it around her waist from above. She looks absolutely precious in her new, clean toga/tunic... not too bad for my first attempt at designing doll clothes, if I do say so myself. From the nearly glowing look on her face, she likes it too. All you people who like to dress up your pets, eat your heart out!

Is that what she is now? A pet?

Nah... how about a friend... since I have so very few left.

A loud, abrupt crackle from the radio startles my little companion and myself. "408, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! WHY HAVEN'T YOU DROPPED THAT TOW OFF YET?! YOUR BREAK ENDED A HALF AN HOUR AGO! YOU GOT CALLS WAITING!"

"Ten-four, just dropping it now, over," I lie. I hate it when the dispatcher tries to pretend like they're my boss. I'm doing those assholes a favor by working tonight and this is the thanks I get.

The sound of the radio has frightened my new little friend so badly that I catch her head just peeking out from above the vent near the windshield.

"It's okay," I try to assure her, "it's just a radio, it can't hurt you... it's just kinda loud... and annoying." I coax her out of her hiding place with my hands, and reluctantly she does so. "Would you like to sit back in my hand?" I ask, thinking she might feel more safe... and I'm right. She perks right back up with that adorable little smile of hers.

Placing my palm flat up at the edge of the dash, she cautiously steps onto my outstretched fingers. The tickling sensation of having someone so small and light walk down the lengths of my sausagey digits gives me such pleasant chills. The sensation quickly fades as she steps onto the glove whose fingers I've sliced off for more dexterity. I can barely even feel her weight there now.

Sitting down in the center of my palm, she looks back up at me and opens her mouth to try and speak again. "Ffffffff...," this time she has to wince her eyes shut to concentrate, "fffffffttttthaaaaayyynk... yyyyooooou."

I can't help myself as I graze the hair above her ear with the lightest of touches from tip of my thumb. I don't fully realize I'm even doing it. "Would you like to come with me, little one?"

She lowers her head a little submissively, giving me that same irresistible pout. A pout like that could make a man do practically anything. She taps on her chest as she points to herself, then back at me.

"That's right," I reply, "I still have a few hours of work left tonight... if you can understand what that means. But afterwards... would you like to come live with me?"

The girl in my palm clasps her hands together and nods enthusiastically. Then... the tears begin to flow... this obviously means the world to her.

As much as it means to me.

My thumb moves to pet her hair once again, but this time the endearing little creature throws her arms around the calloused digit in a grateful embrace. She nuzzles her face against the exposed pad above the cut-away leather and stares up at me with a smile to rival that of the woman still sitting at the booth inside the cafe with her child. A little moist spot grows on the glove where it meets the skin, where her face is pressed... her tears. I can't imagine what kind of hell she's been through, but if this miserable night is any indicator... it's been long, hard road that's brought her here.

"408! GET THE LEAD OUT!" The voice on the other end of the radio shouts.

I press the button to respond with another lie, "just fixing an issue with the winch cable. I'm almost done, just keep your pants on!"

"WELL HURRY IT THE FUCK UP!" The voice scolds me.

Now I've had it.

"LISTEN HERE, YOU POMPOUS PRICK! I DIDN'T VOLUNTEER TO WORK THIS SHIFT JUST TO HAVE MY BALLS BUSTED BY YOUR LAZY ASS! IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE WAY IM DOING THINGS, THEN COME OUT HERE AND FREEZE YOUR OWN GODDAMN NUTS OFF!"

This time there's no response, and I don't hear from the dispatcher again for the rest of the night. Good fucking riddance. The tiny woman in my hand is looking at me with a bit of a shock on her face, which makes me ashamed that she had to hear that.

"I'm sorry about that... don't worry... I'd never shout at you that way." She still seems a little frightened so I offer her this, "see this pocket here on the front of my overalls? Would you like to snuggle down inside? It'll be nice and warm, I promise."

The nod she gives is almost imperceptible at her tiny size, so I slow raise her to the lip of the pocket so as not to frighten her any more. With a pair of fingers on my free hand, I widen the opening so she can peer inside.

"See, nothing to be afraid of. Just a cozy place to take a little nap if you'd like." It's really for her own safety, and for the sake of my job. I can just imagine getting called into the boss's office later this week because a customer complained that my truck was infested.

She steps over the edge of my hand and lowers herself inside. She pauses for a moment once she reaches the bottom, placing a hand against the wall of fabric between her and my chest. It takes me a second to realize she's feeling the powerful beat of a heart much larger than she is. It has to be pretty overwhelming.

"It's just a heartbeat, little one. That's all. Put your hand on your chest and feel your own." She looks at me confused again, but does so. "You feel that? It's the same thing... mine's just a lot bigger."

Keeping one hand on her own chest and the other against mine, she feels them both at the same time. She contemplates the two for a moment, then looks up at me with astonishment.

"See... no big deal. Why don't you nestle in and shut your eyes. Before you know it we'll be headed home."

She smiles at me again and begins to open her mouth to say something, but stops herself. I suppose she's a little too tired to try and force out another set of words. Instead, she turns on her side and rests her head on her hands, closing her eyes with a contented grin still gracing her face.

It's so goddamn cute, I just want to take her home this very minute. To protect her. To offer her any kind of happiness and freedom from the miserable existence that's been shoveled upon her. Fate has been cruel, but I won't be.

So as not to let the pocket snap back into place, I release my hold on it carefully. My new little passenger disappears from view, but I can still feel her squirming around against my chest, trying to get more comfortable.

With a defeated sigh, I put the tow truck in gear and head towards the garage to drop off the Sebring. I don't know what the rest of the night may hold for me, but the secret companion that's tucked away in my pocket keeps me going. Despite the fact that it's another holiday spent at work... and the miserable cold making every second feel like hours... I no longer feel alone.

So I drive off into the night, facing the coming storm...


I wonder what she'd like me to call her?





The End
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

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Re: Christmas Eve on I-80

Post by Little Sally » Sat Dec 24, 2022 10:46 pm

Great work BTB!

I found that so heartwarming and especially appropriate for this time of year, and you couldn't have done a better job of painting a picture of this lonely man's life. As is your skill at writing things with an unexpected twist I had no idea where it was leading, and initially thought the poor thing caught in the diner's sticky trap would be a bat or something. But what a surprise when it turned out not to be!

I won't give out any spoilers for a new reader, but just to say I found the whole story beautifully crafted and all the characters believable, and some of the "Americanisms" in the dialogue an amusing treat for my UK ears.

We just call them wet wipes over here haha! (but I knew whatcha meant). :D

(edit) The story is even more apt because of the horrid weather you're currently having in the U.S., so I hope you and yours are keeping safe and well.
sally g, reincarnated.

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Re: Christmas Eve on I-80

Post by Sumguy14 » Sun Dec 25, 2022 4:19 am

that was unexpectedly heartwarming. Not gonna lie, I feel seen a bit in your protagonist. He's very well written and his inner monologues smack of some genuine soul-searched honesty. There is some validation in seeing a character you identify with as the star of a work you appreciate... and I appreciate this.

Thank you for sharing.
Neat!

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Re: Christmas Eve on I-80

Post by Raso719 » Mon Dec 26, 2022 12:24 am

Excellent work and world building!
I recently re-watched The Fifth Element so I heard the girl's voice rather vividly!

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Re: Christmas Eve on I-80

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Tue Dec 27, 2022 3:15 am

Little Sally wrote:
Sat Dec 24, 2022 10:46 pm
Great work BTB!

I found that so heartwarming and especially appropriate for this time of year, and you couldn't have done a better job of painting a picture of this lonely man's life. As is your skill at writing things with an unexpected twist I had no idea where it was leading, and initially thought the poor thing caught in the diner's sticky trap would be a bat or something. But what a surprise when it turned out not to be!

I won't give out any spoilers for a new reader, but just to say I found the whole story beautifully crafted and all the characters believable, and some of the "Americanisms" in the dialogue an amusing treat for my UK ears.

We just call them wet wipes over here haha! (but I knew whatcha meant). :D

(edit) The story is even more apt because of the horrid weather you're currently having in the U.S., so I hope you and yours are keeping safe and well.
Thank you so much, Sally! Yeah, it’s been cold as all hell here the past couple of weeks, but would you believe I actually wrote this back in October?😅 Obviously the dread of the coming winter was starting to creep in during spooky season 🤣
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

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Re: Christmas Eve on I-80

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Tue Dec 27, 2022 3:19 am

Sumguy14 wrote:
Sun Dec 25, 2022 4:19 am
that was unexpectedly heartwarming. Not gonna lie, I feel seen a bit in your protagonist. He's very well written and his inner monologues smack of some genuine soul-searched honesty. There is some validation in seeing a character you identify with as the star of a work you appreciate... and I appreciate this.

Thank you for sharing.
Thank you very much, sir! That’s high praise indeed! I won’t lie, our nameless wrecker driver isn’t all too dissimilar from myself. I think a lot of people share similar feelings when they reach a certain age. It warms my heart to know this story touched you like it did. Thank you so much for reading it.
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

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Re: Christmas Eve on I-80

Post by Bloodthirstybutcher » Tue Dec 27, 2022 3:20 am

Raso719 wrote:
Mon Dec 26, 2022 12:24 am
Excellent work and world building!
I recently re-watched The Fifth Element so I heard the girl's voice rather vividly!
Thank you thank you thank you!☺️
And damn, dude, you nailed it! 😁
"People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis, you can't trust people, Jeremy."

-Super Hans, Peep Show

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