chapter 28

Chapter 28: Fuel, Freight, and Broken Trust

​I stood over the body of the infected security guard in the dark warehouse, my heart steadying as the adrenaline cooled. The black blood splattered across his torn uniform was proof enough: the world was bleeding out, and I had zero time to waste.

​My heavy diesel truck was dead on the concrete dock with a snapped rear drive-axle. Locked inside the trailer behind it were three tons of high-calorie MRE crates, dried grains, and medical supplies. If I left this load here, scavengers or infected would pick it clean before sunrise.

​I pulled my shortwave radio off my tactical vest, clicked the dial to channel 4, and pressed the talk button.

​"Derrick," I said, my voice tight. "I know I’m the last person on earth you want to hear from. But I have an emergency at the Northside Food Depot."

​Static buzzed over the speaker for five long seconds. Then a cold, rough voice came back—a voice that used to be warm when he held me, before I betrayed him.

​"You have a lot of nerve calling this radio, Evelyn," Derrick snapped, his tone laced with venom. "I told you hours ago to stay the hell away from me. I don't care about your corporate games, and I sure as hell don't care about you."

​"This isn't about us, Derrick!" I shouted into the mic, swallowing the sting of his words. "I have a dead axle on a ten-ton flatbed loaded with three tons of sealed emergency food. My truck is stuck on Bay 4. I need your heavy tow rig and your master welder."

​Derrick let out a cold, bitter laugh over the radio. "You betrayed me, Evelyn. You threw me away when it suited your family, and now you think you can just wave your hand and make me pull your weight?"

​"I'm not asking for your forgiveness," I said, keeping my tone deadly serious. "I'm offering a trade. Two 55-gallon drums of pure, un-cut diesel fuel, a crate of military-grade medical trauma kits, and a complete set of titanium-coated pneumatic tools from Plant No. 1. You bring your rig, help me haul this food, and the gear is yours on the spot. No strings. No talk about the past."

​Silence fell over the radio line. Heavy equipment and clean fuel were vital for survival in a dying city, and Derrick was too smart a mechanic to let his anger ruin his own prep.

​"Ten minutes," Derrick growled. "If you're lying about the diesel, I swear I'll leave you stranded on that dock."

​Nine minutes later, heavy headlights cut through the rainy darkness of the warehouse yard. Derrick's massive, custom-built six-wheel recovery rig roared into the loading bay, its heavy steel bumper reinforced with iron rebar.

​Derrick stepped out of the cab holding a heavy iron pry-bar. He wore his grease-stained work jacket, his tall frame tense, his dark eyes locked on me with raw resentment. But as he stepped onto the dock and his flashlight beam hit the bloodied, mutated corpse on the floor, he stopped dead in his tracks.

​"What the hell did you do?" Derrick asked, his voice dropping low as he stared at the milky eyes and black blood.

​"That's why we need this food locked behind three inches of reinforced steel tonight," I said, stepping between him and the body with my shotgun held low. "The city is collapsing, Derrick. The plague is real, and it's mutating faster than anyone knows. I was wrong about a lot of things between us... but I am not wrong about this."

​Derrick looked from the monster's body to my face, his jaw clenching hard. The sight of the infected wiped the personal anger from his face, replacing it with cold, hard survival reality.

​He unhooked his heavy hydraulic winch cables and threw them over his shoulder without a word. "Hook the front frame," Derrick ordered flatly. "We’re tandem-towing the flatbed. I drop the food at your main bay, take my fuel and tools, and then I'm going back to my garage."

​For the next two hours, we worked under the pounding rain. Derrick’s welding torch showered bright orange sparks across the dark loading dock as he secured a temporary steel towing brace onto my broken axle. He didn't look at me, and he didn't make small talk. Every movement was fast, efficient, and cold.

​By 3:30 AM, the heavy diesel engine of Derrick’s rig roared as we pulled the massive load through the heavy iron gates of Factory No. 1.

​Inside the central bay, we unloaded the crates using the factory’s electric forklift, lifting the pallets directly into the reinforced subterranean vault beneath the main press floor.

​Once the three tons of food were safely stowed, I rolled out two sealed drums of heavy diesel fuel and handed Derrick a heavy steel toolbox packed with fresh pneumatic gear and medical trauma kits.

​Derrick wiped his greasy hands on a rag, refusing to look me in the eye as he loaded the fuel drums onto his rig.

​"The payment is fair," Derrick said coldly, leaning against his truck door. "We're even for the tow."

​"Derrick, wait," I said, taking a step toward him. "Factory No. 1 has independent power, clean water, and food. You can bring your tools and park your rig in Bay 3. You'll be safe here."

​Derrick turned his head, looking down at me with eyes full of old pain and deep distrust.

​"I'd rather take my chances in my own yard than sleep under a roof owned by someone who broke me," Derrick said, his voice quiet but sharp as a knife. "Keep your shortwave radio on Channel 4. If the world really turns into whatever was lying on that warehouse dock... maybe we trade again. But don't ever think this makes us okay."

​He climbed into his cab, slammed the door, and backed his heavy rig out into the rainy dark street.

​I hit the master console on my vest. The heavy steel roll-down doors of Factory No. 1 slammed into the concrete floor with a deafening THUD, followed by the deep, heavy clank of six automated steel deadbolts sliding into place.

​I stood alone in the center of the dark, silent warehouse floor.

​I had clean water. I had independent diesel power. I had three tons of long-term food rations locked in the basement vault. Now, it was time to turn the perimeter of Plant No. 1 into a total death zone for anyone who tried to take it.