"New Mexico…"
"Hop in… if you want a ride we're going through New Mexico…" he said, with a disarming smile.
"Well… I–I don't know…" Charity said, doubting the wisdom of accepting a ride in a truck… with two drivers. "… I–I was trying to catch a r-ride… in a car…"
She had been trying for over an hour and a half to thumb a ride, but the motoring public — especially travelers — she discovered was apprehensive about picking up hitchhikers. Several cars had slowed down, but the drivers had sped on, after looking her over, and she was, rapidly, getting discouraged.
"People aren't picking up hitchhikers like they used to… too many things happening nowadays," he said, re-enforcing her own feelings; then, "Good luck…"
The driver shifted into gear and the truck began to move, the big diesel engine developing an ear-splitting roar as the huge rig began to inch forward.
"W-Wait!" Charity yelled.
The truck shuddered to a stop, and she noted that another truck, painted the same bright blue had stopped just behind the first.
"You change your mind?" the co-driver asked, leaning out his window.
"Y-Yes… I've got to have a ride… even for a little ways… maybe you could let me off in Palm Springs…"
"All right… hop in here! Palm Springs it is!" he opened the door, smiling down at her and offering her a hand to boost her up.
"Th-Thank you… ever so much!"
Just before the door was opened for her, Charity read the sign on the side of the cab: J. L. TRUCK LINES; Phoenix, Arizona; San Francisco, Los Angeles, Phoenix, Albuquerque, El Paso, Dallas, Oklahoma City.
"I'm Pete…" the co-driver said. "My partner's name is Jeff… and you're…?"
"Charity…"
CHAPTER SEVEN
The caravan of two trucks stopped at a lunchstand catering to truckers on the outskirts of Palm Springs.
"You hungry?" Pete asked her as the big freight rig came to a stop. "We usually have pie and coffee about this time."
Charity was hungry; she had had very little breakfast and no lunch. She had no money at all.
"Y-Yes… I am feeling a l-little hungry…" she admitted.
Pete escorted her into the small cafe, selecting a booth near the back. They were joined in a few moments by Jeff, the driver of the truck she was riding in and the two drivers from the second truck. Jeff introduced them as Matt and Brad.
It was a congenial lunch, the men joking boisterously, and including her in their conversation, making her feel a part of their group as they touched on various subjects.
Charity was feeling completely at ease with the four men; not once had they said or done anything untoward to give her an inkling of their plans for her. As they pushed back empty plates and finished off second cups of strong, black coffee, Jeff said to her, "It's sometimes hard to get a ride out of Palm Springs… you could get stuck here all night! Why don't you just stick with us… until we get to Phoenix, maybe…"
She looked around at the circle of friendly faces. They all seemed to be such open, friendly men, rather straightforward, somewhat rough, perhaps, but certainly they were not men who would take advantage of a young girl, alone; besides, Matt had said that he had a daughter near Charity's age. Jeff, the oldest had mentioned, somewhat boastfully that he had a two-year old grandson.
"We'd sure like to have you along," Jeff added, "to sort of help liven things up a bit."
"All right… I–I'll go with you, then… as far as Phoenix…"
"I've got to get our thermos bottles filled with hot coffee," Jeff said. "I'll be right with you." He excused himself and went to the truck for the thermoses.
Pete and the other two men, trailed by Charity, trooped out to the trucks where they busied themselves checking over the big rigs to make sure everything was functioning correctly and safely.
"We have to do this every time we stop," Pete told her.
"Why is that?" she asked trying to show an interest in his work.
"Safety regulations… we have to be sure everything's all right; otherwise, we can't operate on the highways."
"That sounds like a good thing…" she observed.
"Yeah… we never know when they'll inspect us…"
"I see…" she said, inanely, wishing now that they were moving, again, putting more miles between her and Redfern, California.
Jeff returned with the freshly filled thermos bottles, swung up into the right-hand seat and gave Charity a hand-up to the high cab. He leaned out and told Pete: "You go ahead and take over herding this rig for a while!"
"Okay!" Pete climbed into the driver's seat, started the powerful diesel, clutched it into gear and moved out on the highway, shifting smoothly through the numerous gears.
After an hour or so, Jeff poured steaming coffee for them. He and Pete had their coffee black, but Jeff poured hers from the other container. "I noticed you used cream and sugar, so I had this one fixed up special for you," Jeff told her. "Hope you like it."
Charity accepted the creamy, sweet coffee, gratefully. "I don't see how you can drink it black, like that… it always seems so bitter."
Later, after a second cup, she yawned, deeply, and confessed that she felt terribly sleepy.
"Well, just crawl on back there in the sleeper where you can stretch out," Jeff said.
"Thank you… I will…" She clambered up into the almost coffinlike box behind the seat and laid down, feeling more drowsy every moment.
She was in a twilight state of semiconsciousness. The drone of the voices of the two men in the cab was muted, drowned, partially, in the roar of the mighty engine as it ground along, pulling a long grade.
"How much… give her… in that… coffee?" Pete.
Their voices cut in and out. She yawned.
"Enough… sleep… until we get to… Salome…" Jeff's voice.
"… Hurt her… will it?"
She was missing whole words and sentences, now. It was terribly hard to concentrate. They seemed to be talking about her. Something in the coffee? Sleep…? Her eyes closed. She couldn't keep them open.
"Last one… we had… one hell of a lot of… fun…" Jeff, again.
Deep sleep was overtaking her, but something seeped through her consciousness: they p-put something… in the coffee… t-to make me s-sleepy! God… can't stay awake… got t-to get out of here… g-get away!
Her regular breathing told the two men in the truck cab that she was sound asleep… knocked out… drugged!
Jeff looked back at her and reported, "She's out like a light! Damn! I can hardly wait!"
"We'll have to… now!" Pete reminded.
"Yeah, I know… Remember, now… she's supposed to be your wife!"
"No sweat!" Pete said, grinning lewdly. "I'd sure as hell rather crawl into bed with her than with the old bat I'm married to!"
"She's damned nice!" Jeff agreed.
He leaned into the sleeping compartment and fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, opening it halfway to her waist; then he slid his hand inside to fondle her breasts. "Damn!" he breathed. "Young and tender… just the way I like them!"
Down below, his penis jerked to attention and bulged out in his pants. "Christ! She's a gorgeous looking little piece of tail!"
"No free samples, yet!" Pete kidded.
Jeff turned back to face the road. "Just a little preview, is all!"
The two-truck caravan rumbled through Blythe. Since their cargo was not produce, there was no entomological inspection by Arizona Agricultural Inspectors, but they were waved into a truck weigh station several miles further on down the highway.
A Highway Patrolman, a member of the weighing team asked about the woman sleeping in the sleeper.
"My wife…" Pete lied easily. "She conked out on us… said she wasn't feeling too good…"
"What seems to be wrong?"
"She's about six weeks along… and her stomach's kind of squeamish!" He laughed. "You know how it is…?"
"Pregnant…?"
Pete grinned, lewdly, "Knocked-up solid!" he said.