I woke up the next evening in the truck to the feel of it moving. My watch said that the next shift was a few hours away so, with a sleep fogged head, I crawled out of the third seat and looked out the driver’s side mirror. When I didn’t see anything, I looked at the passenger side mirror and realized that we had a problem.
“What happened?” I said to Chaz as I climbed out of the cab. I stuffed my 10-mm in my belt since the holster seemed to have grown legs and wandered off in my sleep.
“We got a couple flats bossman. All on the same row of tires.”
“Let me look” I said and crouched down next to the rear right tires. Our truck had a pair of puncture resistant tires on each of its two rear axles that could shrug off most beatings without a problem. They are partially filled with an epoxy type paste that gives them a self-sealing ability capable of closing a 9-mm hole almost instantly. These marks on the tires were distinct, deep punctures that came from a serrated edge and not random road debris. The damage was too severe to salvage anything and we only had a couple hours before we had to hit the street. A dried white pool surrounded the tires like the scene of a murder.
“I’ll let Jaeger know about this. Get a couple of new tires from Simpson and fill them with the sealer. After that lock them into place and stay with the truck.” I had begun walking away way through the orders and Chaz was already nodding and working to lock the floor jack in place. Good communication is everything for a team.
I found Jaeger as he was heading over to break up a shouting match between the crew chiefs of Truck # 8 and Truck #11. The bosses for both trucks were in each other’s faces and things were starting to get ugly. Ruez was the hot-blooded Latino who ran Truck #8’s crew. He was short and stocky, but had the attitude and temper of a guy three times his size. Dieter was the boss of Truck #11 and had the reach and build advantage, standing a little under 6 1/2 feet tall. Dieter was unusual in that you could never tell what was going on upstairs. I always pegged him for a psychopath. You could never tell when he was about to go off.
I fell in beside Jaeger and one of the mechanics called Mambo followed in behind. The pushing had started and Ruez was posturing like a fighting rooster. It looked like Dieter was starting to pull something from his waistband.
“Shit” Jaeger said as he picked up the pace. We weren’t going to make it.
It happened and finished quickly. Ruez held a knife flush against his wrist and whipped it in a high arc. The blade flashed and a red spray flew as he caught Dieter across the nose and cheek. The big man stepped back and yanked his belt free of his pants. It was one of those biker style belts made of armored links. He lashed it at the smaller man in a figure eight and caught him in the shoulder, tearing away the T-shirt and leaving a bloody trench. Ruez slashed again, but Dieter caught his forearm. The big man hooked his arm around the elbow and forced the wrist down hard. There was a crack and Ruez’s face lost color as he dropped the knife. For a moment, nothing happened as the two men’s eyes locked. Dieter stepped forward, put the palms of his hands on the front and side of the smaller man’s head, and spun them apart. There was a sickening crackle and the body spun to the floor. I had never seen anyone die like that.
The three of us stopped and stared. The entire dock area was quiet now and those who had gathered for a fight slowly went back to their business. Dieter looked around with a bloody face but had still had no expression. A moment later he kneeled down, rummaged briefly through Ruez’s pockets then looked at his chest. He ripped a gold cross from around Ruez’s neck, hung it around his neck, and walked away.
“Fuck man. I had money on Ruez.” Mambo said. Jaeger looked at him then walked over to the body. He promoted the team’s runner (Ruez’ s little brother) to truck boss and told him to get a replacement asap. A couple of the dock security people walked over and dragged the body away. They are always absent until the smoke clears. Someone grabbed a mop and wiped up the area.
Jaeger took a few moments in his thoughts then turned back to me. He was torn between ordering Dieter shot for what he just did and letting him walk. He couldn’t do it since that would leave him two trucks down and there was no way to mix the crews or run them undermanned. To make it worse, Dieter knew it. Jaeger didn’t need to hear that my truck was down too.
“What is it Mason?”
“Someone shived my tires last night after we were docked. Thought you should know.”
“Any ideas who?”
“Yeah”
“Didn’t see ‘em do it?”
“No. If I catch them in the act and shoot them, will you back me up? You can’t afford to lose another truck.”
“If you do catch them, cap everyone of them.”
“You’ll reimburse me for the ammo? Any bonus for bagging them?”
“Just make sure they’re dead and you’ll get it.”I walked back to help Chaz with the tires and looked over towards Macy’s crew. She was leaning against the driver side of the cab with her arms crossed, staring at me. Her runner was to her left, fueling the truck and I could see that he had a long handled blade strapped to his right thigh. He noticed me and grinned like a rodent.
Someone needs to drop a boot on that bastard.
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