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According to national statistics, 1 in 4 women and 1 in 7 men have been victims of severe physical violence by an intimate partner in their lifetime. If you need help call 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE)

Watch out! They’re coming soon!

What are you going to do?

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     For what she was, she looked interesting. Some kind of erotic power still clung to her. The female creature, skeletal, skin hanging from her bones, yet endowed with curves, macabre, yet somehow had a seductive allure.

She looked at Rocky, the light in her eyes were flickering gray spots that filled emotionless cavities.

“I’m looking at you and I know what you do for a living.”

“Like everyone else, I have to work to earn my keep.”

“Yes, it’s just that what you do is so unique. You maybe have made some of my friends.”

“What did you do before you became what you are?”

“Answer my question first.”

“I take out the trash.” Rocky’s remark was delivered in a serious tone.

“That’s one way of putting it.” I like you. Why don’t you come over to us?”

Her tone was suggestive. But Rocky only saw a skeleton that was once a beautiful woman. Her skin hung but some areas had captivating curves that offered physical promise.

“No, that’s not for me.”

“But what about your friend?”

“No, no,” Hector groaned, “I don’t want to be bones.”

There were angry growls from the creatures that held Hector.

“What was your name,” asked Rocky.

“It’s not, was. I’m still Lucille.”

“You seem to know what I do. What did you do?”

“I was an entertainer,” Lucille laughed and adjusted her top. “I made house calls.”

“I figured that,” Rocky offered a sad smile.

“You’re guessing.”

Rocky shook his head and looked at Hector. “What do I need to do to get my friend out of here?”

“Because I like you I’ll let you trade him for someone else.”

“Alive or dead?”

“Better be alive, or the deals off.”

“I’ll need my truck.”

Lucille nodded to one of the bony guys and he left in one of the rigs.

“Just don’t take too long,” Lucille’s look was serious.

“Hey buddy, I’ll be back for you as soon as possible.”

“I know Rocky, just make it quick. Please.”

     Eventually the rig passed them. They were knocked off the road by the MAC truck. Bouncing and rolling the Humvee landed upside down. They took a trembling slide in a cloud of dust and watched dirt slide in through the windows. They came to a grinding stop. Blinded by dust debris had littered the riders in the vehicle. Drug packs of plastic and wrapping tape rested on Hector and Rocky. The goods had wedged them into tight balls.

Hector tuned the engine off. “Mofo, this is too wicked.” He stretched and yawned. “Adrenalin working me over. Ha’bout you Rock.”

“Couldn’t be better. Is my voice squeaky? Something really whammed me in the nuts.”

“Still the old Rock.”

In a crunching roar three Diesel rigs slide on gravel and surrounded the Humvee. They watched as bony meat covered legs and feet surrounded their vehicle.

Bony hands and arms reached in and unhooked Hector’s seat belt and pulled him out. “Holy mofos, don’t touch me.”

A hissy female voice said, “No man’s ever said that to me before.”

“Jesus Christe,” Hector yelled. “You must have been a babe once.”

“Still am, asshole,” the voice countermanded Hector.

One leaned over on Rocky’s side and laughed. “You next.”

Rocky pulled his pistol and fired at the bony creature. It’s body turned into debris. The sound seemed to blow the thing into pieces. Rocky crawled out his window.

Bony feet scampered away giving him space. He ran to the front of the Humvee. Rocky saw Hector was held by three skeletal things. One had been a woman. She wore a two-piece top and bottom outfit.

“We don’t have to kill your friend yet. But if you kill another one of us we will.”

“I’ve got a lot more rounds, so if you hurt him I will.”

“Oh, so you’re a touch one.”

“What do you want with us?” Rocky asked, still holding the gun on the female. Hector was right. She could have been a babe at one time.

The creature’s partner scrambled away and hid in the
shadows at the result of Rocky’s shot. Screams had died.
Was it caused by the explosive sound of the pistol shot.
The only sound was the rumbling Diesels.
Hector was scratched and bloody, but got up and ran to
the Humvee. “Get in Rocky,” he yelled.
“Gotta get my truck.”
“No time, get in.”
Hector had the Humvee running. Rocky got in beside him
and they peeled out into the afternoon sun. Behind them
roared eighteen-wheelers.
Hector looked in the rear-view and saw three rigs
following. Their rise and fall offered a study in
syncopation. The Humvee and trailers followed each on the
dirt road that led to La Rumorosa.
They got on the highway and headed back towards
Mexicali. The Diesels followed like huge bellowing animals.
Hector was bent over the wheel and was focused on the road.
Rocky looked out the back window. The MAC truck was slowly
gaining on them. The driver wore dark glasses. Did the
light bother him? His skull facial hadn’t changed but Rocky
sensed it was very close to a leer. Both hands were on the

wheel and it changed its bony body position as if it were
going to turn into the Humvee.
“Look at his wheels Hector.”
“He’s got those long lug nuts. Must be a foot long,
they’re like scythes.”
“He’s coming over,” yelled Rocky.
The creature snapped his wheel over and ran into the
Humvee. A ripping tearing sound ran through the car. The
Muertos pulled away to do the maneuver again.
The semi rammed the four by again.
“This don’t look good, Hector.”
“No shit.”
The words were spoken as Hector and Rocky were upside
down in a roll doing seventy miles an hour.

“Christ, Rocky, help me.” Suddenly they were
surrounded by bony skeletal figures. Clawed hands grappled
with living flesh. The stench and smell of death was around
them. Foul breaths and dead flesh filled the air with its
stench.
More Diesel engines began their sinister growl. The
bestial sound filled the air with a challenge. A kicked up
roar that was deafening proved that many feet had the pedal
on the floor. Was death providing a cheer for its ghoulish
companions to strive and conquer?
Rocky kicked and fought back. He used his pistol as a
club, shattering and breaking. Hector tore into a ghoulish
threesome. Breaking and hammering with his fists, covered
in dead hair, he grabbed, threw and broke bodies that were
already dead.
A chorus of roars followed and the sound of clattering
metal pushed against Rocky and Hector. Other engines
followed in a cacophony of brutal sound. Roars. Crashes.
Unearthly screams made the ground tremble and the building
shook.
“Can barely stand,” Hector yelled, leaning against the
wave of sound.

A single pair of lights came on. Then, the driving
lights on a trailer box. An eighteen-wheeler. Hector was on
his knees, his hands clasped over his ears. “I can’t
believe this is happening,” Hector screamed.
They were surrounded by bones, broken, mashed and some
with skin still on. The creatures that survived had backed
off.
Horns blared out and rose in pitch. Insistent and
mocking, their pitch became a physical force that bumped
and pushed against Rocky and Hector.
Rocky stood against the noise and rolled the Buddha in
his jacked pocket, trying to find peace. There was none.
But he continued to search.
Another engine started and then another, and more
continued to fire up in a growling challenge. But in the
clouded light Rocky saw the Humvee. It had a Baja Police
seal on the door. There it was. Just get it and we’ll get
out. But Rocky wondered how do you open the big door to get
out?
“Hector, can you drive that thing?”
“Sure, don’t need a key just flip the switch.”
“Okay, get in there and I’ll try to figure out how to
open the big door.”

Hector screamed. A figure appeared in the headlights
and cast a long shadow over him.
It spoke in hissed. “You’ll like being like us?”
Mute, Hector could only stare at the thing. “You’re
kidding me, you’re an ugly piece of shit,” he screamed.
“Soon, I’ll make you like me.” The creature said. His
jaw cracked when he smiled. His clawed hands reached out.
Hector did a two-step dodge and ran around the
menacing figure.
“My God, Rocky,” Hector yelled. Another menace clawed
him. More were closing in on him.
Rocky worked at a chain and latch, and the big door
began to rise.
“Rocky,” Hector screamed again. “They’re back.”
Rocky turned, pulled his pistol and fired at the near
figure. The bullet blew it into pieces of flying matter.

Be wary, Rocky told himself. Inside the huge structure Rocky and Hector listened to the idling Diesel. It was dark inside.

“Whaduya wannna do, Rock?”

“What are we looking for?”

“A Humvee.”

Okay just hang loose until we see light or some movement.”

Other engines began to start in the darkness.

“Jesus Christos,” muttered Hector.

Coughs and pops merged into a thunderous roar. The exhaust choking fog trembled and surrounded them. Headlights that opened the darkness were so bright they hurt ones eyes to look at them.

“Eighteen wheelers are what they drive,” shouted Hector. “And there they are.”

Driving lights lit the trailer boxes. Like an evil circus colored lights filled the space with ominous colors. “They ride tight on other truckers tails and force them over, sometimes run them off the road.”

“Why do they do that?” asked Rocky.

“They got a bond with the devil. They take what they want. They’re dead but they can’t rest, because the devil drives them.”

Hector crossed himself.

Rocky rubbed his brass Buddha he always carried. He looked for serenity, but found none at the moment.

In the biting light Rocky saw the Humvee. “I see it, there’s the Humvee.” It had the Baja Police Seal on the door.

“Hector, can you drive that thing?”

“Yeah, Cruz put a Hurst four speed shift in it.” Hector made the motion of shifting a four-speed. “Four on the floor pal.”

“Okay, you get in and I’ll figure out how to get the big door open.”

“Holy shit,” Hector screamed.

Rocky turned and watched a macabre shadow appear in the lights. It’s skin flapped and hung loosely on its bones. Its face was skeletal and without hair, which covered the rest of its sinister body. One eye was a dark hole and the other carried a red glow. The creature held out a hand where flesh hung off the bones.

It spoke in hisses. “Do you want to become one of usss?”

Rocky and Hector stared at the thing. It was unlike anything either had ever seen. Other hominoid forms began to weave through the burning lights of the rumbling trucks.

They slowly came at Rocky and Hector screaming and choking in laughter.

WEDNESDAY AM

Always something. Wednesday morning. The call came at three thirty.

“Rocky, what the hey, sorry for the hour of my call.”

“Oh, I know,” Rocky yawned, “Cruz is out of toilet paper.”

“Noooo, it’s worse that that. El Camioneros Muertos have stolen some goods.”

“The gang that calls themselves the Dead Truckers?”

“They don’t just call themselves that. They are dead.”

“Where are you?” asked Rocky.

“Tuna Club, my place of business, where I watch my money.”

“Okay see you in an hour.” Rocky was a disabled Marine who had become a hitter for the CIA and some Mexican cartels. Captain Roberto Cruz ran the Mexicali cartel. Rocky was the go-to guy for his problems

 

Rocky and Hector drove on Mexico Highway 2, they were heading in the direction of Tijuana. They climbed the Rumorosa Mountains on what locals called The Whispering Highway.

“Where we going?” asked Rocky.

“It’s not far ahead.” Hector nodded.

Rocky slowed at a small village.

“Take the dirt road,” Hector suggested.

Rocky pulled off the highway and followed a rutted trail that wound up a mountain. Hector gestured, “Keep going.”

A stonewall built into the side of the mountain appeared. “Here we are, Rock.” In the wall was a large door with a human sized access in the lower left side. They pulled up to the entry and parked to the side of it. The huge entrance was large enough for an eighteen-wheeler Diesel truck.

“Who built this place,” Rocky asked.

“When we get out you’ll see,” said Hector.

Rocky stepped out and closed the truck’s door. He walked and crunched on human bones.

“This building killed them,” Hector mumbled, humbled by the surroundings. But they were already dead before they started.”

“This is worse than Afghanistan.”

“These people were born to die here.” Hector shook his head.

“We need to get inside,” said Rocky.

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

“What kind of vehicle did they take?” Rocky asked.

“A Humvee.”

“Better check my loads.” He pulled out his pistol and opened the cylinder.

“Why?” Asked Hector. “These guys are already dead.”

Behind the door they heard a Diesel start with a low staggering growl that turned into a roar.

“Sounds like there is some life in there,” Rocky growled.

“That Diesel is alive, but the driver is dead.” Hector hissed.

And they entered the unlocked door.