Review of where can i watch walking dead season 1 for free::Where can i watch the walking dead season 2, full episodes ...
Review of where can i watch walking dead season 1 for free::Where can i watch the walking dead season 2, full episodes ...
Go to last comment about ' where can i watch walking dead season 1 for free?' Thank you for sharing this beautifully composed article on such an important topic Sending you some Angels today. :0 ps... Excellent article, and such am important topic. I was happy to see you mention... I remember most of these... It is good for those with special needs and for those without them.... I remember most of these...
Jacob was sound asleep in the bunk of his new Peterbilt truck; so new, in fact, he still wasn't sure where everything was except that new truck smell. He was snoring like a chain saw, knowing his weight was catching up to him; he was struggling with bouts of sleep apnea and other obvious symptoms of his weight and degree of fitness, and worst of all, his age. Hell, Jacob knew his level of fitness was about zero, so he promised himself he would do something about the problem. He would, because when he sets his mind on something, it's all but really done. But for quite some time, it's simply that he let go of the fact that he let himself go. But come on, he's coming up on seventy and still has to think of the kids. Jacob's been playing Santa for a few years now and he doesn't want to put that at risk. Because if there's anyone they want being Santa, it's Jacob Dunhill. He looks and sounds so much like Santa once he's done up in that red garb, and nobody knows the kids better. In fact, he spooks some people with how much he can tell about the children's, and their parents, real hopes for Christmas. He was sleeping off a hefty meal he enjoyed at Josie's Truck Stop before he came by the yard. He was determined to do something about his fitness level and his weight, but wanted to enjoy one last hurrah. He didn't want to shake the Santa image, not even the hair and beard, but he wanted to carry it all well. He'd be heavy, but strong and enduring, so he enjoyed a good meal of home-style southern cooking at Josie's and decided that from here forward, meals would be healthy enough to make his doctor happier. But his slumber wasn't to last, since he was awakened by something serious going on, and it wasn't indigestion. Jacob sat up quickly, looking around and momentarily confused by his surroundings. His truck was still new enough to him that looking at it first thing upon waking caught his attention. But he was awake quickly enough to dismiss the sleeper berth, pull back the leather curtains and look out into the dark parking lot of the terminal where he was due to pick up a load going to Sacramento once his ten hours were up. He looked forward to that, in fact, since Sacramento was a good haul from Atlanta. He was looking forward to it because the miles were great and the load was light. The entire trailer was full of goose down for pillows and the load's net weight was maybe a few thousand pounds. It'd be easy driving and easier yet on that new Cummins engine. However, once Jacob pulled on his pants and shoes and stepped out of the truck, he realized his goose down run to the west was no longer in his cards. The air was cool and crisp, what with the autumn season setting in. The stars fighting through city's light pollution of northern Atlanta were twinkling and the air was moved by only a slight breeze. Jacob stood as still as he could and raised his arms gently; what was going on was faint, but he could tell it was serious enough to warrant his concern. Then he could tell that it was something being kept from him, although the effort to do so was failing. He tuned out the mundane environment and gave his attention to what woke him. Jacob's mouth nearly fell open when he realized the serious nature of who was being affected. He had to think quickly and act fast if he was going to resolve a crisis before it was too late, and he looked at his watch. His ten-hour break was over within the hour, which was something that eased his mind some, but there was still the issue of going west when he now knew that he must move south. There weren't many other drivers parked on the yard at the time, perhaps only between thirty and forty, so Jacob looked across the several rumbling trucks harboring drivers sleeping it off and readying themselves for a new day. He reached out with a hand and gently watched his outstretched hand pass by the trucks, some running and some not, determining loads, options, and driver demeanors. One of these guys would surely have what he was now looking for, so he scanned for options. Jacob's concerns bubbled up and he felt his breath catching as he passed over more than two dozen trucks, but then came across a potential solution he couldn't pass up. Without missing another moment, he moved quickly towards the truck in his sight and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He knew that Martin, the midnight oil dispatcher, was in there on the computer and frustrating the hell out of himself because he just can't beat the computer chess game no matter how low he sets the level. "This is Martin." "Martin, this is Jacob. Say, listen, I was just chatting with Sam Dunham, who's the driver in truck 13545. He was telling me that tooth of his is really starting to bother him and he's looking forward to a run heading west so he can see his dentist. He lives in Sparks." "Yeah, so?" Sometimes, the attitudes of virtually every moron they place in dispatch grinds at Jacob's wealth of patience. "The point, if you'd take the time to minimize the chess game and take a look, is that my load is going his way. Not only that, but the load he'll be taking delivers in Tampa tomorrow morning, and I need to head that way. So, what I was thinking was that these could easily be swapped. Sam is coming off his thirty four in three hours. My ten is almost up. I'll have Sam get in touch with you so you know he's okay with that, too." Jacob pressed the End button and concentrated on motivating Martin to cooperate, or otherwise the guy would resist just because. By the time he was done with Martin, he reached truck 13545 and knocked on the fender. He hated it when someone knocked on the side of the truck by the sleeper berth to get a driver's attention. He knew Sam would hear a knock on the truck virtually anywhere, so he figured a knock on the fender wouldn't be too intrusive. After an extended moment, a relatively young, lanky driver appeared from the bunk and made his way to the driver's seat. He rolled down the window while rubbing an eye and said, "Yeah, what's up?" "I'm sorry to bother you, driver. My name's Jacob and I have a favor to ask. If I understand things correctly, you were saying to someone last night that you wanted to get west so you could see a dentist. Well, I'm on a load heading to Sacramento, and it's a load of goose down, so it's about as light as you can get. But I need to get to Tampa." The driver looked at Jacob with a brash combination of confusion and suspicion. He was relatively new to the company, Jacob gathered, and kept to himself. But Jacob also noticed that a few key words pinged on the young, struggling driver's mind. "No, I haven't said any of that to anyone, but I do have a back tooth giving me some hell, although I don't get how you would know that." "The thing is, I would like your run and I thought you might like the miles," Jacob said, concentrating on the driver's resistant cooperation. "If you decide you would rather head west instead of to Tampa, where I know you'll sit at the San Antonio flying hook for a day or two waiting on a load simply because this company struggles to get out of Florida, just shoot a message on your computer and let dispatch know. I'll let them know I'd like to get to Tampa. Thanks, driver, and sorry to bother you." While walking back to his truck, Jacob looked around to see if he could work out which trailer was the load to Tampa, and he spotted what he assumed was correct. He considered moving in front of it but realized that both Martin and Sam needed a bit more motivation, so he stopped and placed his hand on his head, and concentrated. After what was about a minute, Jacob was pretty sure he had a message on his computer stating his load has been changed. With that part of the problem settled, he still had to figure out exactly what it was that was going on. There was a reason he needed to get to the Tampa area, but he just couldn't quite see it. He knew his daughter, Angela, was working in Tampa, but it wasn't enough to go on other than as a motivator. Was she in trouble? He could see she wasn't hurt other than her usual solemn demeanor, and she wasn't threatened as far as he could tell. There was a new fellow in her life and it appeared he was a decent guy, so it wasn't that. Jacob bit his lip over it, because he knew he needed to see Angela and work out whatever this was, but he had to see her to do it. Bizarre as it was, he had to be there. He got up into the truck and started it up. The new Pete purred nicely as he built up the air pressure; he drained it the night before more as a matter of habit than anything else, content to run a fan as opposed to idling the engine or running the generator. He turned the radio off, not wanting to hear George Norrie discuss some issue revolving around Area 51 at the moment; he needed to concentrate on the mindsets of both Martin and Sam if he was going to see this through. His onboard computer lit up and bleeped, letting him know he had a message. He already knew it was new load information, so he didn't need to look at it just yet. He stepped on the clutch and pushed it into third, and then rolled towards the trailer that Sam was originally supposed to pull. He smiled to the thought of Sam's bewilderment, what with Sam still sitting there wondering what he must have said out loud to let on about that tooth bugging him. It wasn't hurting too much yet, but he knew he needed to see Dr. Gutenberg before it got that bad. Jacob hooked to the trailer and updated his logbook to where it needed to be. He had everything ready except for the paperwork itself, so once the truck was ready, he stepped out and walked over to the dispatch window, seeing Martin sitting there in a cloud of gloom, just like most every dispatcher does who works that soul-sucking, drone's job. Martin slid the window over and said, "The driver in 13545 is all bound up with trying to figure out what he said near you, because he doesn't get how you knew about him, but he's glad to get the run. I thought you told me you two talked about it?" "Did I say that? I must've been thinking of someone else," Jacob said as he took the bills from Martin. He quickly scanned them over to make sure everything was in place, and they seemed okay. Once he had the bills in hand, he realized that the driver who dropped the load on the yard blew off weighing the load of furniture and left the drive axles a little too heavy. He wasn't worried about the Florida scales, but the two Georgia weigh stations he would go by might be of concern. He'd look at it when he got back to the truck and see what he'd have to do. "Oh, just to help you out," Jacob said before leaving Martin to himself, "you're a bit weak in using your knights, so sacrifice them to take out the bishops that plague you. That might get you a win." He couldn't help but to smirk at Martin looking at him that way as he walked off with the bills. However, the moment of amusement wasn't good enough to keep his mind from the pressing issue of what he was sure was Angela, so he tried working out what was getting to her, because he knows this is her, whatever this is, but he just couldn't see it. That, for Jacob, is just too weird, so he notched up his pace. Whatever the mystery was, it wasn't mysterious enough to keep from him that he needed to hustle. He was in enough of a hurry to second guess his concern about the trailer and the weight. Jacob looked down the road to see if the scales were enough of a concern or not. He could see the second scale was closed due to the road construction that likely wouldn't be done until the year 2063, but that first scale he'd come across...it was closed, too, but he couldn't see why or for how long. It didn't matter, though; it was time to roll. Normally, it would be quicker to roll around the I-295 Atlanta loop by going west, since that way was just a little shorter and traffic often leaner, but looking that way, Jacob could see there was a Swift driver on his way to get in a battle of wills with a J.B. Hunt driver near exit 55. The issue was sure to slow things down too much, so Jacob decided to follow the loop the other way. He knew he would have to take it slow near the entrance ramp to I-20, thanks so much to the Doofus in the Chevy pickup who doesn't have the balls to tell his girlfriend he knows about Jeff, so he'll feel it necessary to text her while rounding that curve of the entrance ramp. A few miles before reaching I-20, Jacob slowed enough to bring it to eighth gear just long enough to allow Doofus to get through. He knew he'd irritate the young lady coming from Marietta because he'd force her to watch how she was driving rather than fix her makeup, but it would only be for a few seconds. He counted to ten and then mashed on the fuel to get up to speed, confident that the rest of his way down to I-75 should be smooth. It was as smooth as he figured it would be, and the merge onto I-75 was no trouble. Now, it was simply a matter of making it down I-75 all the way to the I-275 into the Tampa area, which would unfortunately be congested when he got there. He didn't need to foresee that; in fact, nobody needed a crystal ball or a psychic hotline to know that area would be bumper to bumper late in the afternoon. However, he could tell that once he made it past Macon, things would clog up here and there, particularly when he reached the road construction near the Tifton area. Jacob concentrated on what was ahead, trying to work out the best way to keep going as fast and efficiently as he could, since he knew time was of the essence. The load itself wasn't any trouble, albeit a little heavy despite being just a load going to the IKEA distribution center in the Tampa area. Jacob left Atlanta behind him, seeing just up ahead that a new Camaro, one of those done up to look like one of those in the toy movie, was about to cut in front of the Oakley tanker making his way back to Florida. It wasn't going to happen until he reached the Jackson area, where the gathering of truck stops often slowed things down, and he still practically had the Atlanta loop in his rearview mirror that was slightly out of adjustment. He'd wait a few minutes before warning the Oakley driver about the Bumble Bee wannabe because the driver would likely forget, what with how wrapped up he is into his audio book from Dean Koontz. But he would have to warn him, because the Doofus in the Camaro, despite being nearly thirty, didn't have the mental wherewithal to recognize his car couldn't do what the car did in the movies. If Jacob didn't place his head's-up to Oakley, the alternative would potentially tie up that area's traffic and Jacob couldn't afford that. He pushed to see what was going on with his daughter, and as usual, Angela was resisting him. Angela's two brothers took after their mother, so the issue was far from concerning when it came to whatever they were up to; dear old Dad had them pinned and caught before they hardly got into whatever nefarious mischievousness was running through their fevered minds. But Angela had Dad's way of seeing things, so she was far more difficult to decipher. It only got worse as she got older, since she worked out her ability to keep to herself quite well. Jacob could see well enough to know that he didn't have to worry about her and that her intentions were always admirable, so he tried to be the better Dad and not pry too much. But this was different. So as he passed by the idiot who was sipping on the tall beer he'd just stolen from the convenience store two exits back, which was a dumb thing he justified because he spent all his spare cash at the Burger King drive-thru on crap his doctor said would kill him if he didn't change his ways, Jacob tried working his way into Angela's frame of mind. He just couldn't place his finger on it, but he knew there was something important enough, urgent enough, to coerce him to forego a run west for a run, any run, into the state of Florida. Freight out of Florida was bad enough before the economic downturn, but now with the recession in play, the likelihood he'd turn over another 34 hour restart just waiting on a preplan was high. But this was his daughter and she's now built the highest wall she's ever built between them. There was a reason for that and Jacob was afraid. There were other times she's given such resistance, but these were mostly through her teens. Just like any other teen, she was simply trying to find her place in her world. But for reasons Jacob found odd, Angela found her perceptive talents an awkward hindrance rather than a benefit, so she tried going past them to be like the other kids, and it usually backfired on her. By the time she graduated from high school and entered college, she accepted her genetic coding, but with a grudge. He just couldn't understand her resistance and angry concern; it wasn't as if she was born with extra fingers or something gaudy that could be noticed by the other kids. But she wanted to see what they saw and hear what they heard, and that was that. "Hey," he'd tell her. "Don't your brothers make it clear enough that's rather overrated?" He chalked her misery up to being a teenage girl, which tempted him to tell her made her like all the other kids, but he didn't think it would help. Besides, by the time she was a college sophomore, she found herself just fine and did well socially, academically, and daily. Sometimes she whined about what she learned from the lessons of other students, but he told her simply that learning it the Dunhill way was still learning it, so it isn't as if you're cheating. He told her that you're just sort of double-jointed in a way few others are, so just accept it for what it is. She eventually came to terms with things, even if she didn't completely accept them. But that's okay; he'd rather look like Kevin Costner than Santa, but it is what it is. However, Jacob's concerns now were that the grudge Angela harbored about the Dunhill's bizarre double joint was becoming a distraction she would no longer endure. The two dozen miles have passed since he noticed the mile-wide gap in the judgment of the idiot who spent his college fund on a car he saw in a movie, so he pulled his CB mike to him and said, "Hey Tanker, watch for that yellow Camaro about to dash in front of you when you come up on that highway entrance. You can't see it from where you're at, but I can see him bee lining right for your right steer tire. Give it a few seconds and slow down just a bit." "Thanks, driver," Oakley said as he slipped in another CD. Jacob saw the tanker ease back just enough to allow the idiot in the overpriced car to learn a hard lesson. He was about to make slight contact with the guardrail and knock his driver's side headlight just far enough out of adjustment to continue reminding him how dumb he is all the way to the day when he finally works up enough money to get the car into the body shop. Jacob dismissed it as a nonevent for him, despite the thing happening close enough to Oakley to give him a good scare. "Thanks for telling me about this moron, driver," Oakley said. "He would've ruined my day." "He would've ruined the day for about nine of us, not to mention the cost in precious time to everyone behind us." Jacob left it at that as he concentrated on what was coming up. He saw that the weigh station coming up a few miles ahead was going to open up after all. Looking into it, Jacob saw he didn't have much to find concerning, since they were only opening it for show for some bigwig wanting to spend the taxpayer's money to his liking. Unless a truck's weight was way over, they were just going to wave everyone through with a green arrow always aiming to the highway. Seeing the weigh station would do nothing more than cut his speed in half for a minute or two at the most, Jacob focused his attention on his daughter. But it just wasn't working. If Angela had one talent just like so many other twenty-somethings in the world, it was cloaking her intentions whenever the parents were in the picture. Well, if she was involved in twenty-something behavior, he wouldn't be so concerned. But out of this haze he could secure that her matter was more than partying or something lurid; this was an issue of life and the future, and he wondered if either of those, or both, were in question. He doesn't just jump out of a deep sleep and into a moment of confused fright over a hangover or one night stand. He pushed harder on the accelerator and found he already had it on the floor. There was nothing else he could do but ride and wait. He reached into the cubby hole above his head and pulled out his Bluetooth headset. He normally didn't like to talk on the phone while he drove and he certainly avoided holding the phone to his ear, but at the moment he felt this needed to be done. He fitted the clever little device over his ear and enabled it, and then flipped open his phone. Being careful, he searched through the few numbers he had, which were a precious few, and he found his daughter's number. There wasn't much that needed to be said, since he was sure she knew what he had to say, anyway. "You need to let me in, sweetheart. You know I can help you." He was hoping to say more than that when she answered the phone, although he was pretty sure she would not answer. He felt confident she received the call and refused to answer; after all, how many women her age don't have the phone within reach at all times? He saw she watched it ring with whatever wacky ringtone she chose for her father and then let it go quiet, untouched. He also suspected she did so through a wavering image, set askew with tears of sadness. Jacob wished he had some idea as to what was wrong. Several minutes after he made the third attempt on the phone, he removed the headset and placed it on the seat next to him just before slowing for the weigh station. There were quite a few trucks pulling in before him, which wasn't a big deal since none of them would be stopped or even so much as diverted to sit on a static scale. He did roll his eyes, though, wishing that everyone understood the sign that said 30 MPH meant just that instead of being some sort of code to slow down to fifteen. There was nothing more to do but cope with it and get through, and then climb the slight hill of the Macon I-475. The sight of it reminded him why he likes these Petes; they're not so likely to slow to seventh gear and under thirty for a hill like this or worse, all the while screaming and cooking hot. While passing some of the other trucks, particularly the handful of old flatbeds pulling their construction materials and whatever, he looked ahead to the Pilot at the 146 exit, wondering if he could get in and out of there. Jacob recognized he still had a long way to go and knew it wouldn't benefit a man of his age to push too hard without some personal fuel. Besides, the truck would need some fuel sooner or later, anyway. While this was too early to fuel the truck (he saw he had well more than half a tank and wouldn't have to worry for hours, perhaps until the Flying J in San Antonio or maybe the Petro in Reddick) it wasn't too early to fuel himself. He felt he might benefit from some coffee and something to eat, but he needed to be quick. In and out and back on the road would be the only viable option. While he rounded over the hill with the sight of I-75 falling from his mirrors, he looked ahead to the Pilot there at the 146 and wasn't sure he felt comfortable. It wasn't too bad in there, with no serious lines at the pumps and only a few trucks lining the hill in and out (a few of them couldn't find any parking and a few didn't have the skill to park in the available spaces they saw), but the locals in their four-wheelers were taking up a lot of time getting their coffee, cigarettes, and gas. Jacob still had a few miles to go, what with just getting on the I-475, so he didn't have to make that decision quite yet, but he didn't want to waste any thought on it, either. With every mile left behind him as he approached the Sunshine State, his trepidation and gloom spread. With each mile left behind him, his awareness that something was very wrong grew more confident. Jacob stayed to the left, continuing to pass his slower colleagues as they worked their heavy loads through these rolling hills of asphalt. There were those with lighter loads and stronger engines staying with him and ahead of him, and most of them were grateful that the sun rose high enough to be out of their eyes when they peered into that driver's-side mirror. It was going to be a nice day, for the most part, although he wondered if there could be some afternoon showers once he reached the Tampa area. If so, they could affect his trip and everything else. He'd have to know what to do when the time came. But he didn't know what that was now, and Jacob was afraid. He and the other drivers were approaching exit 3, knowing that a few would be pulling off the highway. A few would be going west towards Columbus, while a few others into Macon for deliveries. The fellow running for Roehl just ahead of Jacob silently reminisced about the exit and when he went either east or west some years back from this very exit, when he was running on a dedicated account for Circuit City, and how the Macon store was one of the worst in their chain. Jacob shrugged it off, not getting the concern. Roehl had a load of tires going somewhere (he was checking his notes for directions) and did a two-gear drop as he pushed into the deceleration lane just before Jacob came into sight of him. At least things were moving well through the bypass, and Jacob and the others were merging back onto I-75 and into an area where things bogged down some due to the construction. It only slowed some, partly due to the flatbed driver pulling sheetrock, the old Detroit screaming, and him putting up with his wife bitching on speaker phone about that son of theirs and how he quit his job yet again. Jacob worked to the right, putting on his right blinker and getting out of the way of heavier, faster traffic, and he knew he'd be happy with this new Pete for some time. Just a few minutes later and Jacob was coming off of exit 146, confident enough to stop after all, seeing that the fourth pump at the fuel island was the one to pull into since the Schneider driver was just topping off and heading north with a load of water, likely to be pulling out just as he pulled up. Jacob took the right towards the Pilot, feeling amused by the handful of younger drivers and their active imaginations as they left the highly advertised strip club, one of them far leaner in the wallet, wondering how he was going to explain the loss to his wife. He was thinking what he'd have to the next week to make up for the loss, actually considering selling his watch to a buddy who admired it. Jacob made a tight turn down the slope into the truck stop, giving a thankful wave to the driver who stayed to his right so Jacob could move in past the several trucks stacked along the entrance, one of them wondering if he could afford losing the time on the road to get his A/C fixed, and another looking at the left side of his trailer where he clipped a concrete barrier in Chattanooga, wondering if he could get away with dropping the trailer with the slight damage, scolding himself for his bad habit of following too close. Just as he rounded the entrance and the pumps came into sight, Jacob slowed down and slowly rolled up behind the Schneider, seeing the guy was just finishing his log before pulling out. Just before Jacob had to bring it to a full stop, the orange trailer's brake lights illuminated for a moment and then went out, and then the truck started moving. Jacob followed the truck through the pumps and parked ahead far enough to let the harried driver just merging into traffic from the I-475 exit 3 get behind him and get his fuel, knowing the guy's concerns about running out of fuel were unfounded. It was just his fuel gauge and he'd likely make it to Tifton if he had to. Jacob shut it down, reached behind the seat for his travel mug and stepped out of the truck. He huffed a bit as he climbed the stairs up to the store entrance, pulling the top from his travel mug to see if he should bring it in for a rinsing before topping it off. Because he was in a hurry, he thought it'd be okay and he bee lined straight for the coffee, where he added the desired amount of Half & Half and Hazelnut creamer before topping it off with a robust Sumatra blend. The crowd wasn't too bad, although the cashier was considering blazing out of there to never come back if one more of those dirty truck drivers looked at her that way. Jacob prepared two breakfast sausages on the stale rolls, knowing that her bigger concern and source of anger was that her husband didn't look at her like that anymore and she didn't know why. Well, she knew why (the man was gay and couldn't admit it to himself, mostly because of his upbringing) but refused to acknowledge it. Once he had what he wanted, he pulled his Driver Payback card from his pocket and got in line to get out of there. He waited for the fellow to thumb out the dollars and change to pay for his gas and breakfast tornados; the guy was picking up these things and other junk food with cash so his wife wouldn't see his transactions on their bank statement. Jacob had to shake his head and wonder at the guy, since the latest heart attack, his third, was one he barely survived. Jacob was quite confident the guy wouldn't survive the next one, which would be just after his daughter's seventh birthday. Once the coronary in the making was out of the way, Jacob placed his coffee and sausages on the counter. "Good morning, dear," he said to the cashier. "Good morning," she said, hardly registering she said anything at all. She rang up his stuff and he held out his driver payback card for her to swipe once she was ready. She quickly took it from him and swiped it, and then within a few seconds handed it back to him with a receipt. Jacob wanted to tell her that she needs to find a way to move on with her life since her husband is cheating on her (as they spoke, although he would never say that), but she already knew that. He said, "Thanks and have a good day," and left her with that. He would have liked to have a few minutes to impress upon her a way to shake loose the husband that was a husband no more, but he just didn't have the time. There was another life out there that meant a whole lot more to him, and he knew that life, his Angela, needed him now more than ever. He made his way quickly out the door, down the stairs and to his truck, which he reached just about the same time he polished off the two lackluster sausages. At least he didn't need to bring any remnants of them with him; he had his coffee only, and it had a place all its own right there by the A/C controls. He placed his coffee where it belonged and cranked the engine. No sooner did the gauges find their proper places when Jacob had the truck in third and he was pulling out. He wanted to second-guess his decision not to top off with fuel, but he knew he'd be better off getting fuel in Florida, having that much more when he needed it later. It was just that he knew once he reached Florida, and then the Tampa bay area where Angela lived, he'd have that much more of an understanding of what's going on with her, and he'd likely feel far less time for mundane issues such as fuel in the truck. But, time fueling now equated to time fueling then, so it really wouldn't matter much. He got on it and got out of there and back on the road. Once he reached the speed limit and set the cruise control, Jacob took a few healthy sips from his coffee, which was actually rather good. He wasn't a coffee connoisseur, but he knew shitty coffee when he tasted it, and he's tasted that far too many times. Pilot seemed to really get it right with the coffee (they ought to, considering how much they advertise it) and by the time his mug was half gone, he was glad he stopped. The breakfast sausages weren't so ad-worthy but they gave his stomach something to do, allowing his mind to focus on other concerns. He had some concerns. Although he couldn't decipher any details, he knew Angela started this day with both a sense of decided peace and acknowledged despair. She wasn't in the mood to talk about it, particularly with her father, but she had a firm decision to which she held firm, although she was still despondent about some...thing. He couldn't work it out and he felt anxious that he couldn't go any faster. Whatever it was, he found it somewhat bizarre that someone with her talents would be at her wit's end over anything; she shared many of his talents and he usually saw his way through difficult situations with considerable aplomb. But he knew he couldn't expect his daughter to mirror his life exactly and honestly felt that it'd be better she didn't. But still...what was this? Yes, she complained about not being like the others when she was in her mid-teens, but all teenage girls find something to agonize over. The point was that she found a way to fit in, just like all successful people do. Yet despite being successful, she was always a rather solemn girl. Jacob merely considered that part of Angela's makeup; some people were a bass and some a tenor, and others sopranos. While many of Angela's friends were effervescent and gabby, she was seemingly composed and thoughtful. Or, that's what he always thought. Yes, he knew that she longed to be like the others and wished her singular aspects were impinged upon another, but that's how all unique people are when they're young, and it is just that simple. People who are double jointed or extremely flexible amuse their friends when they're young, but eventually find a path benefited by the features, or they simply dismiss them until they're needed. People with an extra finger may hide the extra digit when they're young and meeting new people, but may come to find they have an extraordinary advantage with the guitar. Sure, the people you see with unique talents and gifts in the movies always consider their gifts a curse; it adds to the drama and pulls a thirty minute story into a ninety minute story. But sooner or later, these people find their curses to be gifts after all, seeing the thorn bush harboring such lovely and fragrant roses from time to time. However, Jacob knew there were those out there who could not come to terms with who and what they are. Stephen King exposed us to Carrie, allowing us to see someone who could not face who they really were. The world saw this in Jim Morrison during his heyday. Morrison was a creative genius harboring a brilliant mind, but that mind was not unlike a pit bull dragging a forty-foot chain through a crowded park. Morrison merely wanted to be a puddle-shallow narcissist and just couldn't do it while his supreme mind was off the leash. He tried leashing it with vast amounts of drugs and alcohol, only to find it propelled his mind and then separated itself from him. Angela never seemed to be at such odds, though. While she was never as appreciative of her family traits as her father, she did find a way to incorporate them into her life. Because Angela had these abilities along with a graceful beauty and calm demeanor along with a gift to place others at ease, she's succeeded well in the world of real estate. Jacob was always proud of her for that. He found a way to employ his talents best while negotiating a rig over the highways, and found that particularly adventuresome when he was a younger man. But once he reached an age where the options to seek another trade were limited, he wondered if he hadn't secured himself into too small a box. He succeeded as a truck driver and had done well as a result, but there were surely other options. Some options that might have allowed him to be there in the lives of his wife and children more than just occasionally and never enough. Options that would have allowed him the time to teach Angela how to maximize her family traits. Options that didn't have him viewing the world through a literal and proverbial row of windows. But if there was one thing he succeeded in teaching his children, it was that everyone is here to find their own way. Childhood is a mere preparation for what comes after it, so it should not define the person, but rather be their foundation. If there are places within that foundation showing weakness or erosion, then develop the strength of character to mend where mending is necessary. Patching and mending will be a part of life, and we all must accept that there will be the day when it will all come down. Mortality is the ultimate gift of selflessness we all possess; we all have our time, and then we relinquish it forever so others may have theirs. It was thinking of these lessons Jacob provided to his children when that thought nearly propelled him off the road. The philosophical reminiscence apparently placed his mind in a moment of accordance with his estranged daughter, and he witnessed something frightening. This was not the direction Angela was pursuing as a matter of patching the holes, was it? Dear God in Heaven, was it? He picked up his Bluetooth headset and worked it onto his head. He then picked up his cell while watching the traffic slowly pull away from him on this blessedly open road of Middle Georgia's I-75. It only took a fraction of a second to find the number he sought, and then he pressed Send. He made it to the voice mailbox, which he knew would happen despite his wish it would not, and he said, "Angela, you know I can help you. You have to know that a final solution is nothing more than an absence of recognized options, and we both know you have more options than most. I know you know I am watching, so I want you to call me right away. Bring down this wall, Angela, and allow me in to help you." Luckily, the time of day was where Jacob and everyone else on the highway filtered quickly through the road construction. While he was motivated to power off the cruise control, he didn't have to sacrifice much momentum. Like him, everyone around him was on their way to somewhere, although some destinations were more important than others. Two miles ahead, there was the honeymooning couple who needed to pay more attention to the road than each other, but they weren't too much of a danger quite as yet. Just a few miles ahead of them, there was a large conversion van full of excited kids and two frantic parents on their way to the Florida theme parks. A couple of miles behind Jacob there was a man old enough to be his father racing towards Naples, on the way to make the most important business decision of his life. Within sight of him, Jacob spotted the frightened young woman on her way to her doctor's office, reticent about discussing the options, or lack thereof, regarding her breast cancer. Her tears blurred the road, but she was really trying to be careful. Like all of them, Jacob had somewhere he had to be. He felt the anxiousness of the businessman and the cancer survivor, but noted the lack of anxiousness within the little boy so looking forward to seeing the Orcas so close up again. He sensed the tension in the pack, but Jacob felt alone in his mortal fears as he mashed the accelerator to the floor and reset the cruise control. He still had hours to go, and as each mile fell behind him, it felt as if they only moved up ahead, closing in and raising the walls between him and what might be his most important endeavor ever. The anxiety and rising fears helped him pass the time, showing only the mercy of not making him count the seconds passed as he finally reached the realization that crossing the border into Florida was imminent. There were still a few miles to go, but not enough to add up to anyone's significant commute, and he looked ahead for any potential concerns along this section of the Sunshine State. The Agricultural Inspection station, which he found to be a particularly annoying aspect of Florida's Department of Transportation and a waste of the taxpayer's money, was moving along well enough. It often clogs up when those working the station catch the mood and decide to earn their wages, which only leads to stagnating the momentum of scores of people who try to earn their money at all times. Thankfully, this was a day they just wanted to talk celebrity gossip and wave through virtually every single truck meandering its way down their alley. Just past the inspection station, the weigh station was also moving comfortably. It was too early to tell if Jacob would have to rest on the static scale or move on through, but none of it had him concerned. As far as weight was concerned, Florida weigh stations are always open, yet among the more liberal in the nation when it comes to weight. No state out there allows many exceptions for being over gross, but Florida's acceptance of 44,000 pounds on the trailer or drive axles was easy to work with. If he concentrated on it, he could probably manipulate the situation and get the green arrow pointing the way back to the interstate regardless of his weight, but his concerns were rather distracting. He watched the Valdosta Pilot go by and he briefly considered pulling in for another quick bite and a coffee refill, but he saw the place was too busy. Just a shade over ten miles ahead was the Flying J, which Jacob could see was not crowded and actually rather quiet. He watched people come and go while the occasional truck lumbered onto the fuel island while the handful of drivers watching the clock out on the lot coped according to their individual demeanors. Once the miles moved behind him and he was at Georgia's last exit, he'd pull up to the Flying Hook's pumps and step inside for a required restroom break and another quick bite. His doctor told him it was better to consume more meals that were small as opposed to a couple large meals. He was pretty sure the doctor meant they should be wholesome meals, but truckers find nutritional options rather limited and often prohibitively expensive. Such was not a present excuse for him, as he saw the truck stop's dining options were quiet, but his watch told him his options were diminishing with every mile. He switched off the cruise and eased off the highway and down the exit ramp, and then navigated the truck to the last pump on the island. It was quiet and he wouldn't be in the way, so he simply shut it down and went inside. He made his way into and out of the restroom as quickly as he could, desiring to keep this stop short and to the point. The body's functions were mainly appeased, but he felt some caloric intake would keep his mind on track. He considered another coffee refill but settled on water. Once he had his water in hand, he looked around to see what might go well for a quick bite and saw they had a display offering Johnsonville sausages, right next to the coffee. They also were offering their usual offer of two slices of pizza for five bucks, but he didn't want that. He didn't really want the sausage, either, but he knew they were tasty. They offered two for three bucks (not a deal in his eyes) so he took it. He actively dismissed the concerns of those in the store, feeling grateful there weren't a lot of people in there to distract him. The cashier seemed nice but was lost in some daydream about a boy in a boy band; a boy that was almost young enough to be her son, which oddly thrilled her. Her fantasies weren't too lurid, thank you, but Jacob saw her sweet tooth could easily get her in trouble. But Miss Sweet Tooth was the worst of it, and he gobbled at one of the sausages while making it back to the truck. He didn't want to bring the second sausage in his new truck, but didn't want to waste time, either. Crumbs and such attract bugs, so he normally was very careful about what he ate in the truck. If he wasn't pressed for time, he'd likely lean against the fender and finish the food before getting in the truck, but time was in fact pressing. The sausage lay in the bun nicely and he gently sat that on the seat next to him while he dropped the water next to him on the floor and fired up the truck. He released the brakes and pushed the clutch pedal to the floor, and then he pulled it into gear. He reached over and took a mouthful of the sausage and then released the clutch enough to pull forward, swinging the wheel gently to the right and heading for the exit. It was maybe two or three minutes later and Jacob was crossing the Florida state line. He still had a good distance to go before reaching the Tampa area, but now it was just a matter of miles and hours. The load he pulled wasn't scheduled for delivery until the next day (which meant Sam would've nursed his tooth for another pointless, low-paying day, anyway), so Jacob wasn't worried about the load at all. At this point in time, the load was something merely tugging at his progress, and then not really, what with everything being virtually all downhill from there, except for a few minor spots. Rather, Jacob's concerns were all personal, revolving only around his daughter, whose resistance was weakening as the proximity between them closed. Except for the weigh station and pointless Agricultural Inspection station, there was virtually nothing out there between where he was and down well below I-10. There were a few fellows on their motorcycles a little farther ahead, but only one of them actually wanted to go where they were going. Three of the guys wanted very little to do with their destination, but the one guy who did so seemed to be the leader of that pack and apparently had some score to settle. It was pathetic that the score was with his stepfather, who was an old coward who could no longer pose a threat. The pack leader didn't know what he truly wanted to do; he just knew he wanted that old bastard to know that, should he want, he could do whatever he wanted and get away with it. It was shallow and pitiful, but the guy couldn't shake loose the old, ugly memories. They were ugly, Jacob saw, replete with abuse and meanness, but they were from so long ago. Jacob didn't want to have any of that bouncing around in his head, so he turned on the radio and listened to the political rambling. Miles went by as he listened to the drama and vitriol supposedly consuming so much time and effort within the bipartisan governmental construct, and several more miles zipped by as he had explained to him and all the other listeners just what should be done to solve these almost insurmountable crises. By the time he was coming within view of the Gainesville area, he switched his satellite radio to classical music and settled into the sound of Bach's fifth Brandenburg Concerto. The music was a good idea and helped Jacob keep focused on the job at hand as he gained more of an uncomfortable understanding of Angela's situation. The gap of space and time was closing, between them and what they both felt they had to do. Jacob felt both despondent and desperate, partly because Angela did, but also because Angela shouldn't. The hour was approaching early-to-mid afternoon, and he was just above Gainesville. By the time he reached the Tampa region, the hour will be rush hour, and the dichotomy between progress and anxiety will likely be extreme. He can't do anything about the time, but he might be able to work with the traffic. He'd hate it to come to that, but the issue is getting frantic. Yes, the issue is getting frantic, but he is yet to know exactly why. As he approached the Reddick Petro, he looked at his fuel gauge and decided he'd wait until San Antonio. Although there were miles to go, he could see the traffic in and out of the Petro was lean, and he likely could get through quickly. But he could also see things were the same down in the San Antonio Flying J, where he felt happier about getting in and out for fuel. He didn't like the looks of the two Pilot truck stops there at the 358 in Ocala; they were always busy and the area bogged down. Besides, by the time he reaches the Flying J, he should be well close enough to know what brought him all this way, and he might be able to bring it under control before it gets out of control. The area was ripe with team spirit, college-age angst, and a lot of hilarity, so Jacob found himself struggling to focus on his issues. Negotiating the roadway in a big truck wasn't a problem; in fact, it was one of the few things in his life he found deceptively simple. It was just that he was working towards an unbreakable link between him and Angela, but these anxious scholars had so much more on their minds than their studies and a lot of it was disturbing. Mostly harmless and humorous, but disturbing. Then there was the fact that Angela was being resistant despite the futility of it. They both knew that once he was closer, he'd breach all barriers and know everything. It seemed that for the both of them, time was of the essence. The situation really bothered him, partly because it's been a long time since Angela's allowed her unique hereditary traits to get to her. Now that he was this close, he was at least able to work out that these concerns were the issue bringing him into Florida. Being brought into Florida was another thing that bothered him; the population density and cacophonic manner of thought within Floridians only served to distract him from what he needed to know. This was likely why Angela chose to move to Florida, he realized once he thought about it. She knew her old, fuddy-duddy father would resist the freewheeling demeanors of Florida, despite how many of them were of his generation. He did and always would, partly because getting through all the haze was so hard. Besides, Florida wasn't easy on truckers trying to make a living. He was sure he'd end up pulling a wagon full of water, either from Zephyrhills or Niagara, out of the state. It wouldn't matter which one, since they both suck. Getting into the calmer mindsets around Ocala helped some, but Jacob still had a ways to go. He could almost see the gloom surrounding Angela's mindset all the way from there, and he still had over a hundred miles to go. There were a few Swift drivers making their way back to the Ocala terminal and taking up space on the road, although one of them had made up his mind that this was the last time for him. He had already cleaned out his truck at one of the rest areas near Gainesville, with the help of his wife who was worried about where he might go for another job. The guy had a few ideas lined up, apparently, but Jacob noticed he wasn't making up his mind. He also noticed the problem was within the guy's head, not entirely the company for which he works. Yea, but patience is truly a virtue, particularly for truck drivers. The other fellows were merely coming in for some home time, except for one, who was coming in for a reason that he didn't know. Well, he was a fairly new driver, and they're bringing him in for a drug test. Based on what Jacob could tell from the fellow, the drug test was going to end up being largely a waste of the company's money, since the guy took his job seriously. The driver seemed like a smart guy, albeit rather young, so he'd soon recognize that when they're not telling you why they need you there ASAP, peeing in a cup was surely in the near future. Elsewhere in the smattering of traffic, people were merely getting to and fro, including an anxious young woman on her way to a romantic rendezvous with a man she knows she shouldn't see. She's driving okay, but her mind is filled with reasons why she should just stop and turn around, yet also with feelings keeping her from doing so. Jacob looked into this stud for a moment, seeing an arrogant ass that should be at work and earning the money he needed to catch up his mortgage rather than luring impressionable, needy girls to seedy motels. Jacob normally didn't like getting involved with other people's issues, particularly when he had his own, but he quickly grabbed a copy of an old bill of lading he didn't need, and then his map. He placed his hefty map on the steering wheel and then the bill on that (the only real reason he ever needed the map was for a makeshift desk) and then grabbed a Sharpie from the handful of pens in the cubby above him. He scribbled out a quick note and then tossed the map into the bunk. The nervous, little lady was at least two miles ahead, so he coaxed her into slowing down some so that he could catch up to her. He goaded her into slowing down in order to listen to something on her radio, which helped because she couldn't think of a single reason why she'd be interested in hearing what some talk show host would say, and that alone slowed her down some. She listened to the rhetoric and rambling of the guy as he went on and on about how reality shows were not unlike professional wrestling in their level of reality, and she was clearly not giving a single damn about it. But that was fine, since she slowed down enough for him to catch up with her. Jacob pulled into the far right lane, leaving her two lanes over to his left. This was helpful if she was going to see what he wanted her to see. Otherwise, he'd be too high up for her to notice him at all. Once he was lined up with her little VW Beetle, he gave a subtle pull on his air horn in order to get her attention. She looked his way quickly but then away, so he pulled a little harder and for a little longer. She looked over and noticed him looking at her, which kept her looking long enough for him to hold up his impromptu sign. He is married. Once he knew she saw it, he pulled it back and wadded it up, and then threw it behind him. That was good enough, apparently, because she fell back, and then in his rearview mirror, he saw her exit the highway and follow down the exit with the intent of turning around and never going back. He felt a little sad for her because now she has herself convinced that her emotional state must be some sort of beacon everyone can see and she needs to get in control. The truth is the guy isn't married. He's divorced. This sort of thing is largely why, but the guy has bills and child support, all of which he's placing on the back burner in order to meet with the pretty yet vulnerable women he likes to seduce. Jacob shook off the concern and focused back onto the task at hand. He had the weigh station coming up and didn't want to end up pulling onto the static scale. He wasn't worried about his weight, but the time lost was something he didn't want to give up. With his focus on the situation, he pulled onto the ramp going into the weigh station and slowed to the prescribed 45 miles per hour. He rolled over the sensors in the roadway, concentrating on the fact that he needed to move on. He was glad that he did so, because if he had not, he would be pulling in to have his weight checked, and the rookie officer in there was looking for a good candidate for his chance to go through a thorough investigation now that he had all the steps memorized. For a brief moment, he had his eye on Jacob's new truck, so Jacob focused on him. As Jacob pulled back out onto the highway, he smiled yet felt a little ashamed of himself; the arrogant officer who had his investigative skills at the forefront of his mind now doubted if he knew just how to begin. In a matter of minutes, the entrance to the beginning of the Florida Turnpike would be coming into sight, giving Jacob a sign that his destination was approaching. He felt that since he was this close, he should have a better idea about what was going on with his daughter, but he still couldn't gain a focus on her. She was resisting him, of that he was sure, and it pained him to experience it. Like all fathers, his daughter went through her series of phases where she didn't want her parents involved with whatever her issues were at the time, but this is different. First of all, her teens are way behind her. She's a grown woman who shouldn't have to worry about what her father says or thinks. She should be able to pursue a career in the porn industry if she chooses. But if there was anything he did know, this was a lot more serious than some interest in something she might find meeting with Daddy's disapproval. Once the Florida Turnpike entrance was falling away in Jacob's rearview mirror and he was rolling into a span of I-75 that didn't offer much of anything to see other than the boring billboards up for rent, Jacob reinvigorated his efforts to get into what was going on within the mind of Angela. But try as he might, she was doing a fine job of keeping her thoughts to herself. Well, if he couldn't accomplish anything from where he was, he knew he'd be where she is within a couple hours or so. Once they were with each other, face-to-face, she wouldn't be able to keep anything from him whatsoever. He didn't want this coming to that, though. In fact, he would rather any of these sorts of problems handled while he was going elsewhere in the country other than Florida. The fact that he was now in the central part of the state jabbed at him; but his displeasure didn't come near close enough to his concern for his daughter. He pushed his luck with the speed limit. As he passed by exit 301, Jacob noticed a driver struggling within the Wal-Mart Distribution Center. The poor guy was trying to find an empty trailer he could connect to after dropping the trailer he brought in. Jacob was aware of how common it was that Wal-Mart had a penchant for filling the trailers of outside carriers with their excess pallets. Jacob had to smile when he saw the guy found a trailer only half full of pallets, deciding to back that trailer to a Wal-Mart trailer and sling the pallets to their rightful owners. Just as he saw the driver put his truck in place to make his impromptu transfer, Jacob looked down to see he was desperately low on fuel. It was a good thing he only had about fifteen miles to go to reach the Flying J and top off. He looked ahead to see how things were going at this particular truck stop, and it appeared to be moving well. It was still too early in the day for the place to start filling up with trucks coming in to park for the night, and there weren't all that many drivers at the pumps. That was a good thing, because Jacob was feeling too anxious to harbor any patience for getting slowed down just by getting some fuel. He wanted to get in, fuel up and perhaps grab a quick bite and something to drink, and then get moving. In fact, he decided that he would drop his trailer there and move on to see Angela without the load. The load doesn't deliver to Tampa until the next morning anyway, so he would only be coming back there for the night. This way, he could bobtail to see his daughter and reserve his parking space for the night. Flying J frowned on anyone dropping a trailer and claimed they'd have one towed if it was dropped without authorization, but Jacob was confident he had a way around that. After the last few miles past and Jacob pulled down the exit ramp towards the Flying J truck stop, he looked ahead with an attempt to get one more glimpse into Angela's situation. He left her away from the central focus of his thoughts for many miles now, hoping the break from the push would somehow let him have the necessary insight once he tried again. He hoped to slip in through the side, in a figurative sort of way. As the light turned green and he made his left towards the truck stop's entrance, he discovered that he indeed made some progress. However, it wasn't progress that he appreciated by any margin. In fact, it only made him worry he was far from being timely. In honesty, he feared he was too late. Apprehensive and somewhat frightened, Jacob pulled into the truck stop and drove towards the fuel pumps. There were plenty available and from what he could see, parking was even more plentiful. For that he was grateful, because now he was certain that he did not want to be held back by that heavy trailer. Jacob needed to move and move as quickly as he could, and likely where a trailer wouldn't go easily. He wasn't precisely sure where Angela would be in Tampa; he had never actually visited her since she moved to Florida. He pulled into the pumps and shut the truck down. He stepped out quickly after checking his mileage, and then placed the pump nozzles in place for his two tanks. He ran his card and got the procedure going, and felt anxious to fill those tanks. Fidgety, he cleaned the windshields, windows and mirrors while the tanks were filled, needing the moments to pass. "Come on and let's go," he mumbled at the tanks as they filled at a pace too slow for his liking. In fact, these pumps push a volume approaching and sometimes exceeding fifty gallons a minute, so the amount of time to fill the tanks ran in proportion with how long it's been since he's last done it. Jacob came close to running his tanks dry on this run, so displacing the empty space with fuel would take several precious minutes. By the time he had his glass and windshields clean, the tanks were topped off and he was ready to move out. He wanted to rush away from the pumps and go find a parking space, but he needed to retrieve his receipt inside and place the notion that he would drop his trailer. He didn't want to take the time to work out the trailer being dropped, even if just for a little while, but he wanted to place the bug in some heads that it was dropped in the unlikely event it somehow became an issue. To do that, he simply needed to see some faces and make a connection. So he pulled ahead from the pumps and then shut it down. He rushed from the truck and went inside as quickly as his aging trucker's body would allow. He stepped in and saw there was no line at the fuel desk, which was another blessing. "Hi there," he said. "I just need a receipt for pump nineteen." With a smile, the young lady at the register handed him his receipt and said, "There you go. Have a great day." "I'll try. You do the same," he said as he looked around at the few employees in sight, making sure they were given the mental note that his trailer would sit alone for at least a while. He left the store knowing his day was only getting worse, so he moved as quickly as he could. Jacob climbed into the truck and pulled ahead, already having a good idea of where he wanted to park and drop the trailer. Just ahead, at the first left-hand turn within the parking area, there was often plenty of parking in that particular area during this time of day. It was close to the store so it filled up fast, but he saw a few spaces were available about the time he noticed the driver struggling with pallets at the Wal-Mart DC. He moved into position and quickly backed the truck into place, and after setting the brakes, he jumped right out. He dropped the landing gear as quick as they would go, pulled the fifth-wheel pin and then pulled the lines as he made his way back to the cab. Feeling that time was of the essence, and it was, he pushed the shifter into fourth and pulled away quickly. All of a couple minutes later and he was gearing up quickly to reach highway speed as he resumed his trip southbound on I-75. He had never been down to visit Angela since she moved to the Tampa area, so he didn't know exactly where she lived or where she worked, but at the moment he could see she was in a fair-sized office building a couple miles outside the Tampa International Airport. Her building wasn't enormous from what he could see from there, maybe fifteen stories high at the most, although he wasn't in the mood to count, and it was the typical modern appearance of a lot of tinted glass and bright steel. This was one of the few good things in the situation, since he'd have to recognize the building once he got there, which shouldn't be too hard, as a lot of the surrounding buildings are mostly several years older and looking it. The problem at the time was that he had over thirty miles to go and traffic was building up. Jacob only had about ten miles to go before reaching the I-275 loop into the Tampa area, but he'd still have close to twenty miles to go from that point, and he could see traffic congesting to a thick pain in the ass right around the Busch Boulevard exit. He had no choice but to continue another several miles past that point in order to get to where Angela was. In fact, now that he was this close, he saw he had to go past where I-4 began and clogged up everything like a bad drain, and then proceed downtown. Getting there quickly enough with his Pete and without the heavy trailer was far from the issue; the issue was simply space, time, and Floridian motorists. He was moving just over the speed limit and knew he could until he reached I-275, and would still be able to cruise well for several miles more. But looking that far ahead, he could see things were bogging down somewhere near Fowler Avenue, and they only got worse from there. Driving those last few miles of I-75 before reaching I-275, Jacob's desperation made him really consider how this was going to have to be done. He normally didn't like doing anything that might draw too much attention and place on him too bright a focus from those around, but this just might require some deft maneuvering. This was not an issue of getting some load there on time; this was an issue that he now recognized as a matter of life and death. While pushing for those last miles, he tried so hard into seeing why Angela's situation seemed so dire, but he just couldn't see into it. Angela's emotional state has been a despondent jumble, likely for days now, and working through all the dark, murky feelings has somehow proved too elusive for even one such as Jacob. However, he knew with confidence that if he didn't get there to personally intervene, like right now, he could very well be too late to do anything at all. It was that bad, so he could not afford these people being in the way. Once he merged onto I-275, Jacob through all modest concerns to the roadside and concentrated on as many minds as he could for several miles ahead. He didn't like manipulating the public at large for virtually any reason, and he honestly thought he would never have to do it, but he never, never suspected that his beloved daughter would reach this state of mind. He had no choice but to do everything within his power to save his child, and it was just that simple. Jacob pressed into the traffic for at least as far up as I-4 that there was a large motorcade of limousines and police cruisers pushing through at high speed. For the first couple of miles ahead of him, the impression wasn't difficult to push on those within that radius, but it did get murky further ahead. Heavy traffic meant more minds to influence, and that meant he really had to focus like he had never done before. They not only had to recognize the need to see the motorcade and get out of the way, but they had to be influenced to resist the urge to take advantage of the cleared pathway as most of the traffic merged onto the roadway's shoulders. If any significant amount of them did that, Jacob knew he'd be forced to pinpoint those resistors, which could cost him the influence on everyone else. If that happened, he could very well bring traffic to a standstill, or in a worst-case situation, a pileup, and that would be the end of the road for him and his daughter. As far as he could see visually, motorists were heeding his needs and pulling off the road. But farther than that, beyond his line of sight, he could see the sheer population density was having trouble with working out what they needed to do in order to clear his path. He didn't fret too much about and held the faith that he would be able to impress the proper decisions on the confused once they were in sight. By then, they would see the speeding limos, police cruisers and motorcycles, and know enough to get aside far enough not to get hit. Of course, there was nothing more than a Peterbilt 379 bobtailing its way through, but such a thing was nothing but a minor detail. In fact, Jacob quickly realized he needed to continue the false impression up to a mile behind him, just in case some joker back there wanted to take advantage of the space and blaze through. He tried to avoid thinking about what he'd do once he was off this limited-access highway and actually on the downtown streets, where there were actual intersections and traffic lights. From what he could see, Angela's building was but a few blocks from the highway, so he knew he'd be in the last stretch once he made it through this mess. Could he manipulate the intercity traffic and the traffic lights, too? He might be able to do that, but not without drawing in a lot of unwanted attention. He can't manipulate the planet, and for that he's been thankful. He also knows he cannot focus on Angela and her needs while dealing with an inordinate amount of heavy traffic running around his truck and through his mind. Jacob concentrated on maintaining his mirage for the sake of the motorists around him until he reached his desired exit and then let it go. He knew traffic would unsnarl through the I-275 loop within a matter of minutes, and it was far from his concern, anyway. Presently, he focused on getting through the next few intersections and to where his troubled daughter was suffering from...from what, he just didn't know. Rather than manipulate those sharing these roads with him, Jacob focused on trying to influence the traffic lights to his benefit. Hell, the police do it all the time, with whatever transponder they possess that allows them to do it for no particular reason. For him, the issue was that any influence he might have on the traffic lights cannot cause a troublesome chain reaction beyond his present route. He couldn't be so selfish as to do anything that might cause an accident, regardless of how dire his pressing crisis might be. Now that he was this close to Angela, and she knew of his proximity, too, Jacob could tell she was picking up some sort of pace. She was vigilantly preventing his prying into her affairs, but she just can't hide the emotional distress. Being family of such close ties, some things cannot be hidden. As he worked his way along in traffic, moving up and down the lower gears and causing a slinky effect in traffic not meant for such a vehicle (he was grateful for the decision to drop the trailer), he worked hard at keeping a sense of patience within his daughter, hoping she might see to reason once she sees him. It did appear his efforts were paying off, since now that a few blocks and a minimum of disgruntled motorists were behind him, he could actually see the office building where he was sure Angela was right at that moment. He didn't know where she was in the building or even what exactly she did in there, but he could tell from the emanations surrounding it that it was what he's been trying to reach for so many hours. He felt as though he was chomping on a bit as he patiently waited for this one last traffic light to turn green and he could reach the parking lot. The light did change and Jacob had but one more traffic challenge to cope with, which was that he had to cross the divided road, what with his destination being to his left. That was an easy one, though, and with a dismissive wave of his hand, he was able to bring the oncoming traffic to a halt, although a number of the motorists in the traffic wondered why they were stopping even while they were doing it. Jacob simply didn't have the time or the inclination to provide a worthwhile reason. Besides, he simply needed to pull into the parking lot and they could proceed on with their lives. Jacob pulled in and found a reasonably suitable place to park his truck and shut it down. He only took up two parking spaces in a place where well over two dozen were empty, so he was far from being a hindrance to anything at this point. From there, Jacob's only concern in the world was his daughter, where she was, and what she was doing, or planning to do. He ran his hand across his field of vision where the medium-sized office building glinted in the Florida afternoon sunshine, trying to work out where Angela might be in there. That's when he realized the easiest way would be to call her and tell her he's outside and on his way up. Jacob pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in her number, and then waited for her to pick up. She did not pick up. It rang until it went to voicemail, but he's close enough to her to know that she looked right at the phone and saw who was calling, and then chose to set the phone down and walk away from it. "For the love of God, Angela. What is going on? Where are you?" Before he could enter the building, he needed to know which floor she was on, and for that he would need to search for her from where he stood. Once he knew what floor to reach, he could feel his way through from there. But then, what floor Angela was on was made all too clear, not just to him, but everyone around. What had to be an entire office floor's worth of furniture, file cabinets, computer desks, copiers, cubicle dividers, and even several water coolers burst through numerous large windows on the fifth floor. These things burst through the windows and into the air with enough force to make one think they were at terminal velocity when they hit the glass. But what brought Jacob's heart to his throat was that his daughter, Angela, was among the debris bursting through, and then plummeting to the ground. Jacob heard numerous people scream all around him as they bore witness to a sight that must have been beyond the belief to every one of them. Most would have thought it was a bomb blast if there was a sound of explosion, but there was not. There was only the sound of breaking and shattering glass, and then the shrill scream of Angela as she fell. Her screams were stopped only by her sudden impact with the roof of a car parked below. "Oh, Jesus God." People rushed to her aid, and Jacob moved towards her as quick as he could. His adrenaline allowed him to move much faster than one of his age and condition normally would find appropriate, and then a simple manipulation of the minds there allowed him free passage to Angela without resistance, hesitation, or hindrance. His tears came fast as he saw her partially pushed through the roof and windshield of the car, but he could easily tell from her emanations that she somehow survived the fall. Her body was broken and she suffered immense internal injury, but she looked right at him as he approached, although she did not move. Once he was within her reach, he stopped, not sure if he could move her safely or not because of her injuries, but he took the risk of gently taking her hand and placing his head, his mind, close to hers. Through raging tears, he asked her, "Why? Angela, why did you do this? You know that I could've helped you. We all suffer with the pressures of this gift, but we've all told you that you do get through it. The entire family with this has told you so many times that it does get better. For the love of God, this was not the answer." Her emanations and mental powers were fluctuating in such a bizarre manner now. The pain and severe injury she endured has her mind going wildly, likely because she's in shock. Windows on the lower levels of the building and nearby cars were cracking and shattering, and Jacob could hear the metallic rumpling of nearby car bodies as Angela's raging psychic pressures crumpled in fenders and doors, broke most of the glass in sight, and caused most of the nearby people to pass out. Jacob saw a lot of bleeding from noses and ears, and worked quickly to stop the damage and reverse what he could. And then it all stopped. "Oh, Daddy. It can be stopped," she said, looking stunned, yet somehow delighted. Her mouth was agape as she looked around, although her mangled body would allow her to do but so much. "I can see it all now, Daddy. There really is a blue sky, and I can see shadows, and I can hear birds, and horns, and I can hear only the sounds of the city right here. I can hear those people crying, but I can't see them except for their expressions. It's all gone! The haze, the pressure, the endless waves of thoughts and emotions from the world over. I don't have any of it, and Daddy, it's all so beautiful!" Jacob cried aloud, seeing and feeling his beloved daughter dying before his eyes. There was nothing he could do for her; he didn't need any particular ability to see she was on the edge of death. It was only through her gifts, her curses, that she was able to survive such a fall up to then. But for the moment, the only thing that mattered was that there was nothing he or anyone else could do. "I know, sweetheart. The world is such a beautiful place, with its smells, sights, and sounds. I am so glad that you're able to experience what they experience every waking day, even if just for these few fleeting moments," Jacob said, trying to control his tears. "I only wish you could have somehow seen the beauty this world offers everywhere, the way they see it. Angela, I love you so much." Jacob wasn't sure at all if she heard what he said. Looking at her, he could see she was gone. Her eyes were blank and dead, but he could see in those dead eyes the childlike wonder she used to convey when she was little. He did envy her, in that her wish to know the world the way everyone else does came true, if only for a few precious seconds. With nothing more to offer or gain, he turned and walked back towards his truck. Saddened and still in tears, he impressed upon everyone there that he never was. Broken down and despondent, he climbed into the truck and started the engine, and then after releasing the brakes and pushing it into fourth, he eased into traffic in order to make his way north to the Flying J in San Antonio. |
Image of where can i watch walking dead season 1 for free
where can i watch walking dead season 1 for free Image 1
where can i watch walking dead season 1 for free Image 2
where can i watch walking dead season 1 for free Image 3
where can i watch walking dead season 1 for free Image 4
where can i watch walking dead season 1 for free Image 5
Related blog with where can i watch walking dead season 1 for free
Related Video with where can i watch walking dead season 1 for free
where can i watch walking dead season 1 for free Video 1
where can i watch walking dead season 1 for free Video 2
where can i watch walking dead season 1 for free Video 3
where can i watch walking dead season 1 for free
Free TV Episodes Walking Dead Stream Walking Dead Season 1 The Walking Dead Episode 1 Season 1 Watch Walking Dead Season 1 Online The Walking Dead Season 1 Watch 32 Walking Dead Season 1 Full Episodes Walking Dead Season 4 Episode 1 Free Days Gone by Full Episode
Labels: Days Gone by Full Episode, Free TV Episodes Walking Dead, Stream Walking Dead Season 1, The Walking Dead Episode 1 Season 1, The Walking Dead Season 1 Watch 32, Walking Dead Season 1 Full Episodes, Walking Dead Season 4 Episode 1 Free, Watch Walking Dead Season 1 Online
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home