Author: George Stringfellow

At 4:45 AM I passed the road sign that announced the Red Rock Truck Stop was one mile away at the next exit. I'd been driving all night and was feeling drowsy so I decided to stop and get some coffee and maybe something to eat. Night time is a good time to drive through Utah's southern desert, there's less traffic and it's cooler then. I was familiar with the area so I wasn't missing any of its spectacular beauty. Besides that, the desert at night has its own peculiar type of beauty.

One tanker was getting fuel at the diesel pumps when I pulled in the truck stop's parking lot. Other than that, the lot was empty. I drove around the pumps and parked near the entrance.

Inside the doorway was a convenience store that carried everything fromfuel filters and mufflers to cheese niblets and sacks of red licorice. The cashier's stand was by the door. I nodded at the cashier who looked sleepy and ignored me as I turned left and walked down the hallway into the cafe. I sat at the counter. There was an ashtray close so I lit a cigarette as the waitress brought over a glass of water and a coffe pot.

A name tag pinned to her blouse informed me this was Donna. It had been at least three weeks since I'd seen anyone that looked nicer than Donna. "Hi. Do you take cream with your coffee or need a menu?"

"No thanks. I don't need either, but I would take some bacon and eggs with wheat toast."

She scribbled the order down on her pad. "You're up awful early. Did you have a late date?"

"Naw. I keep odd hours. Like you I work nights. Tonight's my night off."

The truck driver came in with a coffee thermos as Donna turned my order in to the cook. He sat at the counter four stools away and looked at me like I had clumsily stumbled into him or like I was in his way. He didn't actually sneer at me, but acted preoccupied and I was disturbing his thinking processes. He was a regular and knew Donna well.

"Hi, Sugar. When are we gonna skip over to Vegas and get married?"

Donna poured him some coffee and smiled. "Hi, Sam. The day you get a better paying job. One where you're not gone from home seven days a week. That truck you drive might be your home, but after an hour two people inside it becomes a crowd. You headed for the mines?"

"Sure. Got a load of nitrate on for 'em. Where's Ed and Rick? I don't see their rig outside. They passed me on the road a half hour ago. We were supposed to meet here before going to the mines. They couldn't have already fueled up. Have you seen them?"

"Nope. They haven't been in yet."

"That's kinda curious. I know they had to fuel up . . . not twenty minutes ago I was talking to Ed on the CB. Up until ten minutes before I pulled in here I was following their tailights."

"Yours is the only rig that's been in for awhile, Sam."

Donna rinsed the driver's thermos out and filled it with hot water. She refilled Sam's cup and then mine. Behind her the cook set a plate of food on the shelf between them and hollered: "Order up!" She placed the coffee pot on the burner then put the food before me. Then the phone behind the counter rang and she answered it.

She listened for a few moments getting a concerned look on her face staring at Sam. "The call's for you, Sam. It's your dispatcher." He stood up and took the phone from her. Donna wandered down the aisle toward me and murmured in a low tone: "There's been an accident."

Sam put the receiver to his ear and said hello then he listened for a few minutes. "What? That can't be . . . but I was ahead of them on the road, their truck passed me on the flats, well past Sister's Sorrow . . . Yes, John. I swear it! Rick was driving because Ed and I looked right at each other and waved as they went by! . . . John, they can't be dead! Right after they passed me, Ed and I got on the CB and were talking! The last thing he said to me was I'll see you at Red Rock, keep it between the lines." . . . No, I haven't been on the road too long and I didn't imagine this! . . . Ok, Ok. First though I'll drop my load off at the mine and then come in. Yes, Yes, I'm all right. Ok, Bye."

Sam hung the phone up then turned and looked at us. His gaze seemed to go about a thousand yards beyond us though. "Something real curious is going on here, I'd like to know what the damned hell it is. John says that Ed and Rick were killed this morning at Sister's Sorrow. The office found this out when the Highway Patrol called in to notify them of the accident.

It's like I told him though, I saw their truck and talked with Ed after the fact . . . it must be somebody else. Fill my thermos up, Donna. I gotta roll outta here and find out what's actually happened."

The driver tried to pay for the thermos of coffee but Donna wouldn't accept any money for it. On his way out the door she told him: "Stay cool, Sam. Drive safe."

I'd finished my breakfast and when Donna brought my bill I asked her: "What's Sister's Sorrow?"

"It's the place where the highway winds down out of the canyon onto the flats. Right where the road turns sits a high mountain of solid rock that stands a good eighty feet high or so. It's about fifty miles north of here, if you're travelling north you'll see the place. There's a long steep stretch coming down and it's a bad place for trucks to lose their air brakes on.

The truckers call it Sister's Sorrow because back in '94, in '86 and 1972, three truckers lost their lives in accidents there when they blew an air line. Sounds likes it's happened again."

I finished my coffee, left Donna a four dollar tip under the cup, paid for my meal and left the truck stop. An hour later I started into the turn going up the canyon. The fire was out now but a fire truck, a semi wrecker, and four highway patrol cars were still at the site. One officer was in the road directing what traffic there was around the mess. Everyone else was trying to figure out how they were going to get the tanker off its side and upright again.

What was left of the truck cab was a charred, smashed and tangled mess of crushed metal that not even Kenworth could recognize as being their own. I drove by the accident site slowly and carefully and recognized what was left of the trailer as having the same kind of markings on it that Sam's truck had on his.

I kept on driving up into the hills. Someone once said that there are things that are known and things that are unknown, in between are doors. Most of the time those doors are closed and we can consider ourselves lucky their shut. I think Sam drove through one of those doors earlier that morning.

If you ever find yourself standing before one of those doors but it won't open, and if you really really think you want to see what's on the other side of it . . . try knocking.