Mr. Chalk 6

6

At about the time of Sergeant Forester’s meeting with Dr. Harper, a tandem trailer truck was pulling back onto the highway and accelerating through the gears.  “It’s a good thing I saw you standing by the side of the road,” said the driver to Mr. Chalk, “it was getting dark out there and I just about missed seeing you. I don’t usually pick up hitchhikers but you were dressed up in that suit, so I figured you had car problems.”

Mr. Chalk, who was sitting in the big rig’s passenger seat, nodded slightly and replied, “yes, it is indeed fortunate.”

“My name’s Artie,” said the driver focusing on the darkening road ahead, “short for Artemous, if you can believe that,” he snorted. Artie glanced towards his new passenger expecting a reply.

“My name is Mr. Chalk,” came the response.

Artie and Mr. Chalk sat in silence for the next twenty miles as darkness enveloped the country-side.

Finally Artie asked, “where’re you headed?”

Mr. Chalk responded with a slight smile. “I have recently discovered that I need to go to the Shreveport State University in Shreveport, Louisiana.”

“Jeez, Shreveport is about eighteen hours from here in the other direction,” replied Artie, “but if you don’t mind riding along with an old man, I’m travelling right through to Jacksonville. It’s got bus service and an airport”.

Mr. Chalk looked visibly pleased at this news and leaned back into the soft leather seat. “That would be perfect,” said Mr. Chalk.

Realizing that Mr. Chalk was not a great talker, Artie plugged his MP3 into the truck’s stereo system and began listening to his favourite country western classics. “Nobody sings like Gene Autry and the Sons of the Pioneers,” said Artie to Mr. Chalk. “Am I right or what?”

At that precise moment, a late model sedan came up from behind and attempted to pass the semi. The driver of the car did not seem to care about the oncoming traffic and only Artie’s quick reflexes prevented a catastrophic head-on collision.

“Boy that was close,” exclaimed Artie. “If I hadn’t of looked in my rear view mirror at the right time, we would have all wrecked.”

“Who are they?” enquired Mr. Chalk.

“Drug traffickers,” said Artie. “They try to use this I-95 highway as a conduit to get their drugs up to the northern states. They’re dangerous as hell on this highway. Just a couple of weeks ago they ran head-on into a family of five. Killed the entire family, and of course, the drug traffickers walked away with minor injuries.” Artie slowly shook his head, “it’s just sick.”