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    You sit for a while in silence after that, thinking about how weird this guy is…but then you start thinking that maybe you met this fellow for a reason.

    “Say, just by chance, have you ever heard of something called Lost Dakota?” The driver doesn’t answer and only looks at you peripherally again and again with a puckered and O’d mouth.

    Then your seat flips you head over heels into the dark back of the truck. After you attempt to get his attention by banging and yelling, you hear someone else in the darkness.

    “Get used to it, buddy. Being in the dark back here for this long has made me as blind as he is.”

    You’re calm enough now to communicate. “Wh..what’s going on?”

    “They’ve got us stuffed back here for some reason that I just can’t figure out. Whenever he stops, it’s never somewhere where anyone else can hear me. And all I, or we, I suppose, have to survive on are some of these nutrient tanks back here.”

    After a while you ask him a question. “So, did you bring up Lost Dakota, too?” You don’t get an answer for about ten seconds.

    “Lost Dakota? I was just another general payload trucker talking about how I lost my quota.”

    The End.




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