Truck-kun Novels & Stories

The driver's door of the black pickup truck kicked open. A man stepped out into the dim streetlights, and my breath caught in my throat. It was Kieran. He looked like he had driven straight from the team's training facility. He wore a thick, dark gray athletic zip-up jacket with his professional hockey team's logo embroidered on the front. Underneath, a tight, structured training shirt showed the broad silhouette of his shoulders.. But the expression on his face wasn't for the cameras. It was pure, unfiltered violence just like that night

"Bring my hands a completely different machine. No extravagant transport. Nothing that screams power." The warrior instantly snaps to attention, his head bowing low. "Yes, Supreme Director Drakos. My paws will bring a different rover. Will a standard trail vehicle be sufficient for your beast?" I wait for Luka to speak, letting his male voice make the final call. "That would be great, warrior," Luka says, offering the male a warm smile. The pack driver nods, unloading our hide bags from the deck. I press a raw silver token into his palm for his silence, and the massive machine speeds away into the dust.

“The sheep will soon be sheared, then the traveller can get you more clothes.” If I were asked to pick, I'd pick this truck over the Jeep, any day. It had one long seat and I think it suited Brian more. I slid across the seat, nuzzling up to his side immediately. Perfect. “Can I join in on the shearing?” I murmured from his side. He fiddled with the controls for a while, then the engine roared to life. “Have you ever sheared one before?” “Never, but it can't be that hard.”

The cat yawned and refused to care. In the truck, I sat with my hands on the wheel for a minute before starting the engine. The night smelled like cold metal and the first hint of snow and the most ordinary kind of happiness. Todd’s truck idled a block away like a ghost. I texted him All quiet. Heading home. He replied with a photograph of the moon in a parking lot puddle and the words we protect what’s ours typed like a slogan he’d wear on a hat.

Trent barks, slamming the door. ********

"You know what's hot, the school's player drives a minivan." Connor glared at me, "Since you keep referring to me in those terms, I'm going to keep acting as if I'm that player. So you know what else is hot about this minivan? The things I'm able to do in the back of it." He gave me a quick wink while subtly biting his lip. I pushed his shoulder gently. "You're ridiculous, but I can see how that would turn on a girl."

It’s Carl, my bus driver. “Kyaria, this is Carl. He drives the bus.” I say, introducing her. “Hi.” She squeaks out. Carl just looks at her and nods. I am sure I saw a half-smile on his face. I can understand why she was staring. Carl is very intimidating. He is a huge guy. He is bigger than Trevor. Carl has to be 6’11” and close to 300lbs of solid muscle. He can be scary as hell. Kyaria looked like a tiny ant standing next to him. Carl walked to the front of the bus. Kyaria went over and started getting her computer and camera equipment arranged. I wonder over and look at all the equipment she brought with her. I never realized that all this is needed for taking pictures.

“If you crash into the tulips again, I swear I’m selling that truck.” He gasped, clutched the toy to his chest like it was sacred, and shook his head dramatically. “Nooo! Not Thunder!” Thunder. That’s what he named the truck. Apparently, it saved the world every Tuesday. I leaned my weight onto the counter, arms folded, chin resting on my hand as I watched him. My whole heart in one tiny, messy, loud, beautiful boy.

Ryan’s called out. I glanced at him. “What?” “The truck with the lead container is ready for inspection.” I followed him across the dock, the sounds of machinery and low voices filling the air. Then, like a bad punchline to a joke no one asked for, Bruno Filippo made his entrance. The screech of tires tore through the steady activity, and every head on the dock turned toward the garish Lamborghini Urus skidding to a halt near the trucks. It was neon green, because of course it was, and Bruno stepped out with all the flair of a man who’d never had to question his own mediocrity.

It had to be really bad. Jacob cocked his head, continued to stare up into the corner, and then grinned before he turned to face 416. “The camera is off now. No record is being made of this. What Dr. Trent doesn’t know is that you are going to have a horrible accident, you freak. You shouldn’t have fucked with me. I warned you that I’d take you out.” He grabbed the bag he’d carried into the room. “Nobody breaks my nose and lives. I knew it would only be a matter of time before you would be punished. I just bided my time.” He pulled out a syringe. “You’re going to die, you bastard!”