Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #111)
Howdy, folks! Welcome back to our tale. Headlights glint around the corner. Electro suits up as the Jolly Ranchers (helpful hobos) prepare to move. To the east, Lady Wilkes tells the beautiful Claire that not everything is measured in dollars. The moon says goodnight.
The Return of Dr. Electro - #8: Everything But Babies
A cloud of dust and diesel hit Electro in the face. Jimmy’s Trucking had arrived. The Jolly Ranchers hoorayed. Rutherford hip-hipped. Preacher grinned, gold-plated. Even Walter seemed pleased, spitting a plug of tobacco almost jovially. “That boy’ll come in handy.”
The door swung open, and out sprung Jimmy. “Got here as fast as I could, guys. Junior said you needed help on the double. What’s up?” He pulled on work gloves, and tugged a grimy red hat low, almost to his glasses. There must have been a great great granddaddy of all trucker hats, and any man worth his salt bore a descendant on his head. The spirit was always the same, although the words were usually different. Electro could just make them out in the gloom. “JIMMY’S TRUCKING - WE DELIVER EVERYTHING BUT BABIES.”
There was something likable about the forty-something man, cut from the stock of those who keep America running. In the storm of uncertainty, and way past the bedtime of even a mad scientist, Electro felt he could trust him. Humanity had gotten this far thanks to guys like him.
“Jimmy, things have got real, man. God bless you for showing up so quick.” Preacher started his tale. “These boys came in on the 1:02, and they almost weren’t alone. There’s been a spot o’ trouble in Chi-town, and we’re off to help them. Thing is, we’ve gotta get to the catch out spot along the tracks by the old ironworks - without being seen. Think you can help?”
Jimmy fiddled with his cap, taking it off, crumpling it, putting it back, and kicked his foot in the gravel. It worked. “Well - there’s a paper company I deliver to right across the way. I think it could be good. But you’ll have to wait for tomorrow night - tonight, rather. It’s almost dawn. Hop in. Crash at the warehouse for the day. Nobody will see you there.”
“Deal!” Preacher seemed elated, and Electro was ready to relax, until the prayer. “Lord, bless Jimmy, let his brakes work this time, bless this quest, and let us return in safety, or at least most of us. And please, Lord, keep us fed this time, too. Amen.” Preacher raised his head.
“Sounds spiffing!” Unfazed, Rutherford was the first in the truck. “Saddle up, boys!”
Across town, a sinister figure frowned at the hint of dawn, retreating from the railroad tower’s window into deeper shadow. The room was musty and long-forgotten, but a fresh set of footprints in the dust betrayed a restless night of pacing. “Where is he?” came the hissing whisper. The moon sank into the west. Just then - a furtive step on the landing.
To be continued next week...