Dirty Secrets

Part 85

As the truck gained momentum descending the steep hill, Lyla felt like a toddler behind the wheel, squeaking and rocking through the darkness, the plow occasionally catching and tearing up the turf. Packer moaned when the truck's wheel bounced into and out of a deep rut.

"Sorry," she mumbled, practically standing on the brake pedal to prevent the 12,000-pound truck from accelerating down the hill into Denny's Cadillac.

"That joystick. There." Packer pointed with a trembling hand. "Raise the... the plow."

She followed his instruction and brought the bent plow up to the level of the bumper. The demanding, unfamiliar task of operating the truck forced Lyla to focus her every mental and physical capability. The nightmarish horrors were temporarily left behind at the summit of the hill.

The truck's headlights found Jack waiting for them beside his car. She steered the truck from the embankment onto the gravel road with a loud BANG, jostling Packer hard.

"Really sorry," she said to her passenger who was obviously in a great deal of pain.

"Hold up for just a second," he groaned, pushing his hand into his pocket and retrieving a prescription pill bottle.

Lyla stopped the truck.

"Open this for me, okay?" he asked. "Gimme two."

She worked the lid off the bottle and dispensed two pills, which he eagerly accepted.

He swallowed hard. "Not supposed to operate heavy machinery... while taking these," he said with a forced grin. "Says so right... right on the label. But now... now that you're driving..." He popped the second pill and gulped again.

"Ready?" Jack called.

"Yep," she replied, watching him get into his car and drive slowly down the narrow road.

The truck consumed nearly the entire dirt and gravel roadway so Lyla drove no faster than 15 miles per hour. She could have walked faster. She focused on Jack's car a short distance ahead framed in the truck's headlights.

Packer's ringtone startled her.

"It's my mom," he said with a sigh. "Don't answer that."

On the seat between them, Lyla saw dozens of urgent text messages from Ms. Packer glowing on his phone screen.

"She's gonna be... super pissed," he said. "Foaming-at-the-mouth crazy."

"I can't picture her--"

"She's a stoic Swede but... she's got a temper. Believe me."

She glanced at his pale face. "So... I don't understand any of this. How did you know?"

"You always answer... answer your phone," he said. "Always. Except for when you're in... in session." He grunted in pain. "When you didn't answer my... my gazillion calls and texts, I knew... I knew something was wrong." He rubbed his thigh.

"Okay. But how? Was your mom taking a nap or a shower or...what?"

"The whole weekend she was stressed out about something she... she needed from the office," he said. "And she couldn't get a hold.... hold of her assistant." He took a deep breath. "So I told her to go... just go to the office and get it... get her stuff."

Lyla bit her lip, thinking about his mother.

"She didn't... didn't want to leave me," he continued. "My dad... he's still in Europe. I said don't worry... I'll be fine. I needed to get her... get her out of the..."

"Out of the house," Lyla finished the sentence for him.

Lyla slowed the truck but couldn't navigate around the orange cones, flattening two of them. As they rumbled around a sharp bend, the front wheel dropped when the shoulder of the road collapsed. She yelped as clumps of pavement tumbled down the mountainside into the darkness.

Up ahead, Jack hit the brakes when the plow truck began to tip.

"Just keep... keep going," Packer said.

She carefully steered the truck back up onto the asphalt road and continued creeping along.

"You okay?" Jack leaned out the window of his car.

She signaled a "thumbs up" to Jack realizing he probably couldn't see her in the dark. They proceeded down the winding road, her heart pounding.

"I got so many questions," she said to Packer.

"I'd be dis... disappointed if you didn't."

"Like how did you end up here?" she asked. "How did you know where to go? How to find me way out here?"

"Metadata on the drone... the footage... it has the coordinates. I put them into my GPS."

"Check out the big brain on Oliver." She smiled.

"Please don't... don't call me that."

"Okay." She asked, "So what about this truck?"

"I knew I had to go big."

"Yeah, you definitely did."

"We needed to get through that fence and... and we needed a lot... a lot of salt. So..." 

"Mission accomplished," she replied. 

"Blair's landscaping company... parks their... parks their trucks in a lot... right near my house." 

"How near?"

"A couple... blocks... not far."

She winced, thinking of Packer straining through every inch of the journey.

"So I strapped on... this baby." He gestured to the exoskeleton." 

"How did you even get up into this truck?" She knew it must have been an agonizing ordeal.

"Focusing on my goal... Payback. Time's up, bro. You gotta go...." He turned his blue eyes on her. "My girl's in big... in big trouble." He knocked on the metal braces. "Your knight in shine... in shining armor," he said, his unconventional humor downplaying his gallantry.

She managed a smile with quivering lips.

His phone rang again.

"She probably has the cops out... out looking for me," Packer sighed, reaching down and adjusted his legs.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. The pills are... they're kicking in." 

"So what are you gonna tell your mom?" Lyla asked. "You just decided to put on your robot suit and steal a truck?" She sniffled.

"Borrowed."

"Whatever," she replied. "She's gonna want answers."

"I got that handled." 

"Oh, really?"

Packer straightened ever so slightly, his back against the interior of the passenger door. "You never wondered why I was there?" he said. "Why I was admitted... to inpatient?"

With worried eyes, she turned to face him.