Under Illusion: Day 7

Word Count: 42,051

Summary of Events:

On arriving in Charleston, Trace followed the instructions he'd been given before he left Spokane, which required him to stop at a certain truck stop and unhitch his trailer, which was picked up by another truck which looked virtually identical to his for loading. Dallis went sightseeing around Charleston with Trace, and at a bathroom stop along the way she checked the local news to see if there was anything she could use as a way to cancel her nonexistent dinner plans, which she succeeded in finding, and so instructed Ratko to call Trace's phone sometime in the next hour. She and Trace then went to a local beach, as Trace wanted to see the Atlantic Ocean, seeing as he'd seen the Pacific already…

Excerpt of the Day:

Despite the crashing of the ocean’s waves behind them, Trace found the sound of his cellphone to be jarringly loud when it suddenly started ringing, preventing him from pressing his lips softly onto Journey’s cheek on his way to hopefully making contact with her lips, if she was willing.

Nonetheless, he pulled out his cellphone and looked. He didn’t recognise the number that was calling.

“Oh, I know that number,” Journey said.

Trace let her take his cellphone and answer the call, releasing her reluctantly. She walked down the beach toward the lighthouse with his phone against her ear.

Having licked all the way down to the cone and packed his ice cream in as deeply as possible with his tongue, Trace started eating away at the cone while licking his ice cream until he’d consumed it all, he then took up his shoes in one hand and Journey’s in the other before starting after her as she talked and continued eating at her ice cream, which was at the cone as well.

The sound of the ocean, and probably also the wind, prevented Trace from being able to hear any of Journey’s conversation, which continued all the way until they found a rather broad walkway that headed back to where all the buildings were, but closer to the lighthouse than they’d come onto the beach, by which time Journey had also finished her ice cream.

She’d glanced over her shoulder once, early in the call, and had looked slightly worried. When she finished the call, she turned to Trace with a distraught expression.

“What’s the matter?” Trace asked.

“There’s been an accident,” Journey replied. “Just here in Charleston, on the Interstate, with multiple vehicles, and some of my family were in it.”

“Is it a bad accident?” Trace asked.

“Yes,” Journey replied, nodding. “My uncle who called doesn’t know what the status of my family in the accident is, but he said he’d keep me updated, and that we won’t meet for dinner tonight.”

“Do you want me to get you to the hospital they’re at or some other family member’s house or something?” Trace asked.

“No,” Journey replied, wiping at the tears glistening in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“But why wouldn’t you want to be close to your family if something bad’s happened to them?” Trace asked.

“I don’t really want to leave you, if I don’t have to,” Journey replied, her glassy blue eyes looking almost pleading. “I really like you, and even spending another night with you would be nice.”

Trace had to admit that he was surprised, on one hand, yet, on the other hand, he was grateful that Journey didn’t want to part from him, especially considering the way she’d been responding to his touch on the beach.

“I can take my shoes,” Journey said.

Once she’d gotten a secure hold on them, Trace let them go and followed her up off the beach toward the lighthouse.

Under Illusion: Day 6

Word Count: 36,198

Summary of Events:

The day's driving was rather uneventful before Dallis and Trace stopped in Knoxville, where they booked a double room at a motel so that Trace had somewhere more comfortable to sleep than his driver's seat, which would hopefully give him more sleep. The next day Dallis started to feel conflicted, as she'd come to like Trace enough that she didn't really like the fact that she was lying to him, and also began to worry about how she'd be able to successfully keep him from delivering her to her nonexistent family in Charleston; in Columbia over lunch she got an idea, for which she borrowed Trace's cellphone to call her nonexistent family, claiming that she didn't have one of her own…

Excerpt of the Day:

“Okay,” Trace said. He unlocked his cellphone and handed it to her.

“I’ll just do it outside,” Dallis said.

Trace nodded.

Dallis slipped out of the cab and dialled Ratko’s number.

“Hello?” Ratko answered suspiciously.

“It’s me Ratko,” Dallis said.

“What happened to your phone?” Ratko asked. “Why are you calling? Is something wrong?”

“Calm down Ratko,” Dallis urged. “This is part of my plan.”

“But whose phone is this?” Ratko asked.

“It’s Trace’s,” Dallis replied.

“And who’s Trace?” Ratko asked.

“The truck driver,” Dallis replied. “I told him I don’t have a phone as part of my hard luck story.”

“So why are you calling me?” Ratko asked, still sounding tense.

“My plan isn’t fully formed yet,” Dallis admitted. “I don’t entirely know how to form it, and only time will help me, but I’m thinking it would be useful if you had this phone number, because I gave Trace the story that I’m meeting family in Charleston, so then if I text you secretly when to call me, you can call me as my family in Charleston.”

“Okay,” Ratko said. “When would you do that?”

“Sometime between three and six,” Dallis replied. “Probably later versus sooner.”

“And if he answers, what do I say?” Ratko asked.

“Ask to speak with Journey,” Dallis replied. “As that’s my alias.”

“Okay,” Ratko said. “He won’t ask any further questions?”
“Well, if he asks who’s calling you could give him some sort of a false name like Uncle something or other,” Dallis replied.

“When you text me, are you going to give me any further details?” Ratko asked.

“Depending on the reason I come up with for why you’re calling, yes,” Dallis replied.

“Where are you right now?” Ratko asked.

“We just stopped for lunch in Columbia,” Dallis replied. “We’ll be in Charleston in two to two and a half hours.”

“He can’t hear you talking on his phone, though?” Ratko asked.

“He’s in the truck plotting his route,” Dallis replied. “He’s a little meticulous that way, but he’s told me he’s never been lost before, and he wouldn’t really like to be now.”

“And this plan is for you to stay with him instead of being delivered to your family?” Ratko asked.

“Yes,” Dallis replied.

“Be careful,” Ratko said.

“I will be,” Dallis replied. “And stop worrying. I’ll talk to you again in a few hours.”

She heard a reluctant sigh from Ratko as she removed Trace’s phone from her ear and ended the call before shutting off the screen and climbing back into the cab.

“All good?” Trace asked.

“They said I can still just meet them for supper,” Dallis replied. “So maybe we can spend the time before then sightseeing around Charleston.”

Trace nodded. “Sounds like fun.”

Dallis nodded, hopefully she could find something in the drive time that remained, plus the time in Charleston with Trace that would give her a reason to get Ratko to ‘call off’ the dinner she had planned with her nonexistent family.

Under Illusion: Day 5

 Word Count: 30,031

Summary of Events:

Having gotten herself into Trace's confidence with her false name, as well as a false story about being cash-strapped and wanting to visit family in Charleston, Dallis accepted Trace's offer of a place to spend the night, sleeping in his truck's bunk while he slept in the driver's seat. The following morning they had breakfast at the same restaurant, where Dallis was given a backpack full of supplies by Ratko at the washrooms after she and Trace had finished eating…

Excerpt of the Day:

Before she’d reached the table Trace looked over his shoulder. He got to his feet and started toward her, a quizzical expression coming over his face.

“Where’d you get the backpack?” he asked.

“Oh,” Dallis said. She’d hoped he wouldn’t notice. “A friend of mine.”

“But you didn’t have it yesterday,” Trace replied.

“Well, no, it was a bit of a surprise gift,” Dallis lied. “My friend went out and bought me some vacation clothes yesterday and gave them to me this morning. He would’ve taken me to Charleston himself, but he’s already taken his year’s allotment of holiday time and he works in a job where he could get fired if he even tried to ask for more.”

“Oh,” Trace said. “I didn’t see you meet him.”

“I just met him now,” Dallis replied.

“Oh,” Trace said. He still looked a little suspicious, but said nothing further.

Once he’d passed her, Dallis fell into step behind him, waiting patiently as he paid the bill before following him out to his truck.

“Michael’s like a brother to me,” Dallis said. “He’s always looking out for me and trying to help, although I have to admit that I don’t always show myself to be as grateful as he deserves. I can be hard on him sometimes, but I’m trying not to be.”

Trace nodded.

“I told him yesterday that I’d finally gotten a ride to Charleston, but I didn’t honestly expect him to do this for me,” Dallis said, managing to get tears to rise to her eyes and emotion to affect her voice. “He’s truly a far better friend than I deserve.”
Without a word, Trace unlocked the passenger door and opened it.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Dallis asked.

“No,” Trace replied, his face showing his answer to be genuine. “No, I don’t really have any right to.”

“Okay,” Dallis said, climbing up into the truck without needing his help.

She removed the backpack from her shoulder and wondered where she should put it before Trace came in the driver’s side door.

“You can put it back over there, it shouldn’t move around,” Trace said, pointing into the sleeping area.

Dallis went in and found a place that looked about the right size to hold the backpack securely and put it there before settling into the passenger seat and fastening her seatbelt.

After closing the partition to the sleeping area, Trace sat down in the driver’s seat and fastened his seatbelt, before starting the truck, whose engine sounded very powerful — even more powerful than when she’d heard similar engines from outside such vehicles in the past — then he addressed the controls that looked rather more complex than those of the average road car before he finally moved the stick shift mounted in the floor and the massive vehicle started easing out of its parking place.

Under Illusion: Day 4

Word Count: 24,168

Summary of Events:

Dallis replaced one of the enlisted friends in keeping watch at another truck stop, where she hoped she might be able to spot the truck she was looking for, especially because the friend she'd replaced had cast doubt on the reality of such a truck existing, casting doubt on her and her brothers' wisdom and intelligence that she wanted to spite the friend for. Trace arrived in St. Louis, where he stopped at the most favourably reviewed restaurant in the area by other drivers he'd asked where he was lucky to find a two-person table that was free because the place was crowded with other truckers; before he could even order he was approached by the most beautiful young woman he'd ever seen, who asked to join him owing to the crowd, and he willingly welcomed her before the waitress came and took her drink order…

Excerpt of the Day:

“As I was saying,” the young woman said. “I’m not a truck driver.”

“So what brought you here then?” Trace asked.

“Well, I’m kind of looking for a ride,” she replied.

“I guess this would be a safer place to do it than standing on the side of the highway,” Trace said.

“Not to mention it gives me the chance to judge potential chauffeurs,” she replied.

“Not that any of us have the appropriate attire to fulfill that role,” Trace said.

“That’s alright,” she replied.

“You’re probably looking for a ride west, though, aren’t you,” Trace said.

“No, I’m actually looking for a ride east,” she replied. “I have an aunt and uncle that live in Charleston, and they’ve invited me for a visit, but… well… I can’t afford even a bus ticket there.”

“Oh,” Trace said. Considering that her clothes were somewhat well-worn, he wasn’t surprised, although he thought it was practically criminal that a young woman who looked as lovely as her was in such straits. “Well, you’re rather in luck, I’m actually headed to Charleston.”

“Seriously?” she asked.

Trace nodded. “I’m going there to pick up a load, then I head back out west.”

“And you’d be able to take me?” she asked hesitantly.

“Sure,” Trace replied. “It’s better than getting only halfway there, isn’t it?”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, looking like tears were coming to her eyes. “I do hate to impose… but I’ve tried everything else, and none of it has worked.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but it’s no imposition, we’re headed in the same direction, so it’s all good, but we should probably pick our food or we’re never going to eat,” Trace said.

She nodded, dabbing at her eyes before picking up her menu.

Trace slowly managed to narrow down his options until he’d decided on the menu item that was most in line with what he was craving, and so ordered it when the waitress came by to enquire what they’d finally decided on.

Once she’d departed with the menus, Trace looked back toward the young woman, who looked genuinely grateful to him.

“So, I guess if we’re going to be travelling buddies we should probably know each other’s names,” Trace said. “Um, so, my name is Trace.”

“Journey,” she replied.

“Are you… from St. Louis?” Trace asked.

“I’ve spent the majority of my life here, yes,” Journey replied.

Trace nodded.

“How far west are you from?” Journey asked.

“I’ve spent just over half my life in Spokane,” Trace replied.

“Where’d you spend the other half?” Journey asked.

“Canada,” Trace replied. “I was born there.”

“Oh,” Journey said. “Why did you move?”

“My mom started dating an American,” Trace replied. “And they got married, so we stayed.”

Under Illusion: Day 3

Word Count: 18,064

Summary of Events:

Trace was forced to slow up, as a large amount of smoke was billowing ahead, which he suspected belonged to a large-scale out-of-control fire, around which he and the rest of the traffic were going to be rerouted. As he edged his way toward the exit onto the detour, Trace contemplated whether he should consult his maps to see how short he could make his detour so that he wouldn't get lost, as he didn't like to get lost, and he also had a reputation for not doing so…

Excerpt of the Day:

With the advent, and even increasing prevalence, of digital maps over his lifetime, Trace also had the ability to pick out landmarks along the route, so that his friends were often convinced there was no place he hadn’t been before, as he would find his way along from landmarks more than street signs — although he did double-check his landmarks with the street signs — which gave the appearance of his having an intimate familiarity with his area of travel when he, in fact, had never seen the place before.

Since Trace didn’t have an unlimited data plan on his cellphone — although he did have a decent roaming plan — however, he’d been consulting paper maps for his route, and occasionally seeing if there was any sort of ‘advanced intel’ he could get from digital maps and their satellite imagery on his cellphone when he was at a place with free wifi.

Considering he was, for the most part, driving the Interstate system — or other highways — and avoiding city centres, though, Trace didn’t really need to seek out landmarks all that much, but instead was able to find his way almost exclusively with paper maps, which didn’t even often have details telling him when he was driving past trees versus open grass, if they even noted elevation changes by more than just little dots or triangles with numbers by them indicating the elevation of mountain peaks.

Trace eventually decided to put his truck in park and dart over to grab his map that covered Montana, Wyoming, and the Dakotas before shifting back into drive and rolling forward.

When he was next stopped, he surveyed his map. He’d plotted on it with light pencil markings — so that he could erase them and replace them in the future, preventing him from getting confused — a route from Billings to Kimball, South Dakota, which he’d confirmed on his cellphone was the farthest he would get in eight hours.

Since Kimball had no truck stop, though, Trace wasn’t sure if he’d be allowed to stop for the night there, or if he’d have to stop sooner, such as at Chamberlain, a slightly larger centre located on the banks of the Missouri River, which was ten to fifteen minutes shy of the full eight hours driving time which was expected of him by his employers — with an hour allowed for lunch.

Finding where he was on the map took a few moments, but was aided by a sign in the ditch beside the highway telling him what exit he was approaching, as he knew what road he was on.

From that information, Trace quickly deduced an easy and rather short detour that would get him back onto his route in what he hoped would be less than an hour, otherwise he might have to start looking for a stop before he reached the Missouri.

With an alternate route quickly plotted, Trace repeated the important details to himself before folding up the map and tossing it onto his empty passenger seat, focusing his attention on getting to the ever-nearing exit, whereafter he ought to be able to get up to highway speed and soon be back on his way, especially considering he’d be able to slip through the exit first, seeing as he was in the lane for it.

Under Illusion: Day 2

Word Count: 12,006

Summary of Events:

Trace arrived at a truck stop for supper, as well as to spend his first night on the road, where he struck up a conversation with another trucker as they dined. Dallis went to one of the truck stops to relieve her oldest brother, who'd taken an early morning shift monitoring the traffic in and out of the truck stop, which was done from the relative comfort and convenience of the truck stop's restaurant…

Excerpt of the Day:

Looking toward the parking lot, Dallis surveyed the trucks arrayed in her view, whose grilles looked, honestly like they were the size of the average barbecue’s grill surface from here, but up close were more likely to be as large as she was tall. Surprisingly, there weren’t actually a lot of dark-coloured trucks, and even if there were dark-coloured trucks, their trailers were even less likely to be dark coloured — as a result, an all-black unit would be easy to spot.

The cleaners had informed Ratko that the money Bentley had given them was not only legal tender, but the serial numbers on it were by no means concerning, as a result, the money had been divided up, and Dallis had deposited the first instalment in her bank account, and they were also following the instructions.

Overall, the instructions on the paper weren’t all that much more extensive than what Bentley had said. They were to look for a black truck that wasn’t likely to be a cabover unit — not that Dallis had honestly ever seen a lot of those in her lifetime — and would be hauling a standard-length enclosed trailer that, like the truck, would be emblazoned with the ESM Secure Transport Services logo, which was minimalist and modern, and didn’t seem to belong on a truck based on the picture included in the instructions.

According to the instructions, both truck and trailer would bear Washington plates — as in the state, not the district — and the driver was also stated to be safe, as in, not the sort of person who was going to get defensive or hostile.

One of them — owing to the limited seating capacity of such trucks — was to get into the confidence of the driver in such a way as to gain a ride with him to Charleston, after which they were to guide him by as much force as necessary in accordance with directions they would receive via text from a number in the instructions, which they were to text in Charleston.

From there, they would follow the directions and receive the final payment of $1.275 million they were owed in order to make the full promised $1.5 million.

Since there was more than one truck stop in the city, Ratko and Javor had enlisted some friends of theirs to help in watching for the truck, which they’d been assured in the instructions would pass through the city in that week. If it didn’t appear, they would receive an extra $50,000 for their time — which Ratko and Javor had both expressed contempt for, believing it ought to be $50,000 each.

Ratko and Javor were also hoping to be able to get at least $50,000 extra for each of their enlisted friends, even though the instructions bore no mention of accommodating such people, with the instructions seeming to believe that they had a host of minions to do their bidding like a gang, when they were just three siblings who were independent of all that hierarchal stuff.

Pronunciations:

Javor: yahvor

Under Illusion: Day 1

Word Count: 6,003

Summary of Events:

Dallis and her brothers went to a restaurant to have lunch with the son of a friend of their father's who'd asked to meet with them on a matter of business. The son brought with him an associate whom Dallis, for one, was immediately suspicious of, as she got the sense that he was hiding something. Additionally, since she and her brothers didn't actually know the son as well as they knew his father, they were somewhat wary of him, and so the meal passed in silence…

Excerpt of the Day:

It wasn’t until everyone had finished dining and the dishes had been cleared away that the blond man finally looked like he meant to say something as his gaze fixed with that of her oldest brother across from him.

“I have an offer for you,” he said, his voice sounding to be a bit more cagey and stern than when he’d ordered.

Her oldest brother raised his eyebrows and tilted his head down in a responding nod, but said nothing, his face conveying his expectation of more information.

“One point five million dollars,” the blond man said quietly. “If you will deliver sensitive cargo.”

Her oldest brother maintained his expectant expression.

“Sometime this week there will be an eighteen wheeler coming to town from the west,” the blond man said. “Black truck, black trailer. The company name is ESM Secure Transport Services. It’ll be headed for Charleston.”

Her oldest brother gave another single nod, still looking expectant.

“You’re to gain the confidence of the driver and tag along to Charleston,” the blond man said. “The cargo will be loaded there. You are to contact us once that is done and direct the driver according to our directions.”

“On one condition,” her oldest brother finally replied.

The grey-haired man looked indignant and angry, but the blond man looked only subtly surprised.

“Which is?” he asked.

“We receive thirty percent of the promised money upfront,” her oldest brother replied.

“No,” the blond man replied flatly. The grey-haired man nodded.

Her oldest brother sat up straight and looked the blond man in the eye. “Your father had rapport with mine, but you don’t have any with me. I don’t trust you to give me what you’ve promised unless you give me money up front.”

The grey-haired man had a disgruntled scowl on his face; the blond man looked slightly uncomfortable.

“You probably don’t trust me to do my job for the same reason,” her oldest brother added. “Even if I told you we’d do it right, which is a guarantee you wouldn’t likely be able to get from anyone else. I don’t blame you. At the same time, you knew my father as much as I know yours, and I’m sure we can both acknowledge that we resemble our fathers in many ways. As a result, you should know what you run the risk of having happen to you if you don’t pay me upfront.”

She saw the blond man’s throat shift, indicating that he’d swallowed out of discomfort with the thoughts that she knew had come to his mind — and she didn’t even know the details of Papa’s business transactions, she just knew he had a reputation for being a man few dared to cross, and those who did never dared again.

The grey-haired man, however, looked derisive, suggesting he knew nothing of Papa and his reputation, which she felt was rather interesting, considering that the blond man knew.

“You’re giving us thirty percent upfront in forty eight hours,” her oldest brother said. “Or what you just thought of is going to happen to you.”