THE SHUTTER WILL CLOSE AT SIX

   Frank climbed the stairs of a delivery center and knocked on the chief’s door.

“Come in,” Richard said.

When Frank opened the door, Richard took his eyes off his computer and looked at him.

“Oh, Frank, you are very early,” he said and picked up a shipping document from the drawer.

“Be sure to deliver the goods before six,” Richard said.

“All right,” Frank said.

Frank received the document. Walking to the door, he looked out of the window. The sky was dark and the trees were swaying.

“It’s threatening. Safe drive, OK?” Richard said.

“Ten-four,” Frank said.

Frank approached the door and was just about to open it, when Richard said, “The shutter will close at six, you know.”

“I know,” Frank said.

Closing the door, Frank thought the chief was being repetitive as usual. He descended the stairs and went to the truck departure depot. He climbed into the driver’s seat and looked at his watch, an Omega antique, which was his father’s memento. He felt his father was protecting him when he wore the watch. It showed 4:06. He checked the time on the driver’s panel clock. It was the same: 4:06.

   Frank was a truck driver on the air cargo department of the United Parcel Service. He had been working for it for 16 years. He had never been late for the delivery deadline, because he made it a rule to leave the delivery center early.

It began raining ten minutes after Frank left. He was driving on Interstate 40 heading for the Raleigh-Durham International Airport. It was about an hour and a half drive from the delivery center to the airport. It began to rain when he drove for about ten minutes.

   The truck was carrying 120 cardboard boxes of medical goods. The label of each cardboard read, “Antimalarial: GlaxoSmithKline.”

   Frank thought it was coincident that he was carrying antimalarial; only yesterday, he and his five-year-old daughter Jane were watching a documentary TV program featuring the malaria epidemic in Africa. On the screen many small children were lying on the beds. The announcer was explaining:

   “Malaria is spreading at a horrific speed in Kenya and the neighboring countries such as Uganda, Tanzania, and Sudan. The death toll from malaria in Africa last year was more than 656,000. Children under five are dying from malaria at the rate of one per one minute. The disease-stricken countries lack anti-malaria medicines and medical exam equipment. . . .”

   “Dad, what is malaria?” Jane said to Frank.

   “It’s a horrible disease,” Frank said.

   “Horrible? Does it mean the children will die?”

   “Yes, but malaria is spreading in Africa, not here in the United States, so you are safe,” Frank said.

   “But they are dying from the disease. I feel sorry for them.”

   “Yes, but anti-malaria medicines are now being sent to Africa from all over the world. So, they won’t die.”

   Frank thought Jane’s voice was mixed with tears.

Interstate 40 with three lanes each way stretched straight endlessly between tall trees to the horizon.

The rain began to fall hard. The wipers moved right and left busily. It was a monotonous drive. Only a few vehicles were running ahead of Frank’s truck. Sometimes a large truck approached with a rumbling of the earth from the left rear and passed with a splashing plume. Their dim red taillights faded away in the distance and disappeared in the fog. Frank looked in the rear mirror and recognized few vague headlights far off.

The driver’s panel clock showed 4:37. He was on schedule. The last overseas cargo flight in the Raleigh-Durham International Airport took off at 7:17. So, the shutter of the Cargo Terminal Building closed at 6:00 sharp. Until last September, the shutter was open 24 hours. So, sometimes some trucks were delayed for several or, in the worst case, more than 20 minutes. In such cases the clerks in charge of cargo had to work strenuously so that the cargo would be in time for the flight. As a result, once in a while they had to delay it. Therefore, to prevent such trouble, they made a regulation to close the shutter at 6:00 beginning in October.

Frank thought he would return home around 9 o’clock in the evening after the day’s work. Jane would still be awake, he thought. He imagined the conversation that he would have with her:  

“Jane, guess what. I’ve done a good deed today”

“A good deed?”

“Do you remember yesterday’s TV program? It’s about the African children suffering from malaria.”

“Yes, I saw many children lying on the beds.”

“I carried anti-malaria medicines to the Raleigh-Durham International Airport today.”

“Oh, then an airplane is now flying them to Africa.”

“Yes, they will reach the children tomorrow”

“Good. Then, they won’t die, will they?”

“No, they won’t.”

Frank imagined Jane’s smile. 

 

The wind began to blow hard. Frank dropped speed in the driving rain. There was little traffic ahead and behind. He drove on the highway eastward on and on. He thought his wife and Jane were talking happily with each other preparing supper. He looked at the clock on the driver’s panel. It was nearly 5:00. He would reach the airport in 30 minutes. Usually he did not take a rest  before arriving at the airport, but this time the rain and wind were so hard that he decided to take a rest.

He crossed the bridge at the Crabtree Creek and left the Interstate 40 and drove down Airport Boulevard at the Morrisvile Interchange. The boulevard was a four-lane road that lead to the airport. It was a short-cut to the airport but when it rained the road became slippery and drivers felt a little tense because it had no guardrail. After about a ten-minute drive, he saw Capital Chop Café.

He got out of the truck at the café’s parking lot. It was surrounded by tall trees whose tops were turning red. The temperature around here dropped to zero degrees Celsius in late October. He saw the Great Smoky Mountains in the mist in the west. He walked across the parking lot to the café entrance. It was a nice café made of brick with a green-colored roof.

Frank opened the door. There were around 15 tables and 10 customers. He went on to the lunch counter and sat at a seat.

“May I help you?” a clerk said.

“A cup of coffee,” Frank said.

He was looking at the clerk brewing coffee in a coffee maker, when he heard a little girl’s laughing voice. He turned around and saw a pretty little girl with red hair and an old woman sitting at a table just behind Frank. The girl’s name was Nathalie and the woman was her grandmother named Barbara.

Nathalie said, “Hello” when her eyes met with Frank’s and smiled. She looked around five years old, the same age as Jane.

“How old are you, cute girl?” Frank said.

“Five,” Nathalie said.

“Is she your grandchild? She is lovely, isn’t she?” Frank said to Barbara.

“Thank you,” Barbara said.

“Here’s you’re, coffee,” the clerk said.

Frank took a sip and said to Barbara, “Driving in the rain exhausts you, I guess. Are you heading for the airport?”

“Yes, my son is coming back from Japan. He has been away for three years,” she said. 

 “That means this cutie was only two when he left,” Frank said.

“Yes, Nathalie, that’s her name, is looking forward to seeing her father,” she said.

“He will be surprised to see her. She’s grown so big,” Frank said.

“Yes, he will, but we have often sent her pictures to him.”

“I see,” he said and looked at Nathalie.

“You will soon see your dad,” he said.

“Yes, I will hug him hard,” Nathalie said.

“He’ll be so happy,” Barbara said and smiled at Frank.

“By the way, how long does it take to get to the airport, do you know?” Barbara said.

“About half an hour or so. I am driving to it, too,” Frank said.

“Oh, is that so?”

Barbara said to Nathalie, “Half an hour to the airport, he says.”

“Good. Drive carefully, grandma. It’s raining hard.”

 “All right. Well, we’ll be starting now. Are you going to leave the sandwich?” Barbara said to the girl.

“No, I’ll eat it all.”

“OK, then, drive safely,” Frank said.

“Thank you,” Barbara said.

Frank turned around and faced the counter. The television on the wall was broadcasting a news program:

“The weather forecast says a local torrential rain is expected here. If you are driving and come upon landslides or rapidly rising waters, turn around and find another route. Meanwhile, the flight service at the Raleigh-Durham International Airport is normal. Next news. Tornados hit many places in Oklahoma and North Carolina around three this afternoon….”

When Frank was watching television, Barbara approached him.

“It’s been nice talking to you,” she said.

“Thanks,” Frank said.

Barbara walked toward the entrance door taking Nathalie’s hand. The girl said to him, “Bye-bye” waving her hand.

A few minutes later, Frank paid the bill and went out of the café. It was still raining. When he was walking toward his truck, he noticed a white Toyota van passing by him. He saw Barbara behind the wheel nodding slightly to him while Nathalie at the passenger’s seat was waving her hand.

Frank got on the truck and looked at his watch. It was 5:10. He thought he could make it before 5:40.

He drove at 60. Soon he saw a white van ahead running slowly, probably at around 55. Water was spraying from the rear wheels. Frank reduced the pressure on the gas pedal. He didn’t have to hurry.

Frank switched on the car radio to hear a program “What Would You Do?” It had just begun. Prof. Handel of Harvard University was talking to the audience. Frank had watched his programs before and had been interested in his talks on philosophy. The professor said:

 “Suppose you are standing by railroad tracks. You see a man sleeping with his head on the tracks on your left hand. When you see your right side, you see a train coming in the distance. Trying to save the man, you happen to see further down the tracks from him a huge giant rock. If you do not get rid of the rock, the train will collide with it killing many passengers, but if you leave him as he is, the train may screech to a halt or will run over him and eventually come to a stop after bumping him. Here is a question. Would you leave the man as he is or would you save him?”

“Is the sleeping man my friend or relative?” a male student said.

   “No, he is a complete stranger,” the professor said.

   “Then, saving many passengers is more important than only one. So, I feel sorry for the man, but I’ll leave him as he is sleeping.”

   “I see. Is there anyone who diesagrees? Isn’t there anyone who will save the sleeping man?”

   Frank tuned to a different radio station. Pop music came on. Listening to the music, he thought what he would do if he were standing by the railway tracks. He would choose the passengers, of course. Why did the professor pose such an obvious question? Everybody would agree with the student. He thought he would never be in such a situation, so it did not apply to him anyway.

He looked at the driver’s panel clock. It was 5:16. He was driving along the Brier River, which ran in the same direction as his truck was heading. The river was about 20 yards wide. It was running fast, swollen and muddy, because of the rain. It looked about two feet deeper than usual.

   Barbara’s white van was still ahead traveling at 55. She was keeping a constant speed. He looked at the rear mirror. There were a few vehicles with the headlights on behind him. Suddenly the van swayed left and right. It might have gone into a skid, he thought. He pressed the brake pedal slightly to keep a safe distance from the van. It began to run steadily, but it swayed again. Watch out! It hit the median strip on the left side, bounced to the right, and ran out of the road. Frank stopped the truck. He saw the van sliding down the bank slope and jumping into the river. It floated for a while, gradually sinking, and stopped just around the middle of the river. The lower half of the van was under water. Frank hurriedly got out of the truck and ran down the bankside.

   He gazed at the van in the foggy rain at the riverside and discerned Barbara and Nathalie. Barbara seemed to be frantically hitting the window with what looked like an umbrella. The door would not open because of the electric system failure or the water pressure. Barbara, recognizing Frank, waved her hand. She seemed to be shouting, “HELP!” Frank waved back. He thought the whole van would sink in no time as the river level was rapidly rising. Even if he called emergency, would the rescue crew reach there in time? There was no time to lose.

   Frank ran back to the truck, opened the equipment box, and took out an evacuation hammer. He grabbed the packing rope, too. All right, he would rescue them. Wait a moment. He looked at his watch. It was 5:25. He wondered. What should he do? It would take at least 10 minutes to the airport. It meant he had to leave there at 5:45 at the latest. Could he rescue them within 20 minutes? The river was running wild. It would take time even to reach the van. What if he was swept away by the water? He did not have confidence to rescue them in 20 minutes. Suddenly he heard Jane’s sad voice, “Are they going to die?” He heard Prof. Handel’s question, “Which would you chose, the sleeping man or the passengers?” He had never been late in delivering ever since he became the truck driver. He had duty to deliver the medicine to the airport to save the African children.

If he should be late, the company would have to pay penalty charges to both the airport and the medicine company. Furthermore, late deliveries would be reported to the Drive-A-Check Services. He could not spare time to rescue the old woman and the girl.

   Frank took out a smartphone. He had no time to call the delivery center to tell them the situation. He called 911. A staffer answered.

   “This is an emergency. A car is sinking in the Brier River along the Airport Boulevard. About 10 miles from Raleigh-Durham International Airport toward Interstate 40. Hurry up. My name’s Frank Howard, a truck driver for the United Parcel Service.”

   Frank returned to the truck and started the engine. He prayed that the river would not swell any more and that the rescue team would come soon. He had to do what he had to do. He looked at the wagon in the river. He imagined Barbara hitting the window desperately with an umbrella in her thin bloody hands. He almost heard Nathalie crying. Please, hold on. He pressed the gas pedal.

   Was he doing the right thing? Was he? How dare he leave them? How dare he? He stopped the truck and looked at the rear mirror. No vehicles behind. He got into reverse gear. He drove the truck fast in reverse. When he came the nearest to the wagon, he jumped out of the truck with the hammer and the rope in his hands. He tied the end of the rope to a tree on the bank and wound the other end around his body. He ran down to the river, jumped into it, and walked toward the wagon with careful steps. The torrent hit his huge body and tortured the tenovaginitis in his left leg. He approached the wagon inch by inch. When he approached within four yards of it, his eyes met with Barbara’s. She looked relieved. Nathalie was standing on the passenger seat. She had undone the seatbelt. Three yards more. He looked inside the wagon. The lower half of the wheel was in the water. It was coming up to the level of Barbara’s chest. Two yards more. A yard. He extended his left arm and grabbed the fender mirror. He gave Barbara signs to move back. She drew back. Frank swung the hammer up and broke the window into pieces with a blow. He tied the end of the rope to the wheel.

   “Now, get out,” Frank said to Barbara.

   “Nathalie first, Nathalie first,” she said.

   Barbara lifted the girl in her arms and pushed her out of the window.

   Frank pulled her out of the window and held her on his back.

   “Hold on to me tightly,” he said.

   Nathalie put her arms around his neck from behind. He held the arms with his left hand and pulled the rope with his right hand. It was tight. He began to walk toward the riverbank. The gush of the water pushed him hard. He resisted the current with his all might. His left leg ached. It was still raining hard.

   When he put down the girl on the riverbank, he looked at the wagon. Its hood was under water. Barbara was waiting for him with her head stuck out of the window.    

Frank grabbed the rope and step by step returned to Barbara. When he reached her, he wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her out.

“Grab the rope and go first,” he said.

Frank followed Barbara close behind her. They moved slowly and carefully. When they reached within seven yards of the riverbank, she slipped and fell in the river. She was almost being carried away by the current. By a hair’s breadth, he grabbed her hand and pulled her up. She clenched him. Her hair was all drenched. She coughed hard. Her lips were pale, trembling. She stiffened up.

“I can’t. I can’t move,” she said feebly.

“Come on. Just one more try. Look at Nathalie,” Frank said.

Nathalie was waving her hands, screaming, “Grandma!”

“No, I can’t,” she repeated.

She was trembling. Her teeth were chattering. She was holding the rope tight. That seemed to be all she could do at the moment. Frank thought he had to hold her on his back, but he did not have confidence to carry her to the bank with his aching left leg. She might clench my neck and choke him. He could not abandon her in the middle of the river. It was running wild and swelling fast. What could he do?

Just then, he heard a police siren. He looked up at the bank and found a patrol car, an ambulance, and two rescue cars. Thank God.

“The rescue team has come. Look. Over there.” he said to Barbara.

Barbara looked at the vehicles. Her drawn face looked relieved.

The siren stopped. About ten members of the team rushed down to the bank.

“Hold on. Do not move!” a rescue member shouted through a handheld microphone over the rain.

Five members entered the river and approached Frank and Barbara. Each member wore a life jacket and had a rope tied around their bodies.

When they reached Frank and Barbara, they put them in the life jackets. First, three rescue members supported and dragged Barbara to the riverbank. The other two sandwiched him from both sides and lead him to the bank carefully.

   When Barbara reached the bank, Nathalie flung her arms around her and said, “Grandma!” When Frank got to the bank, he saw the wagon. The whole body was under water except for its roof. Barbara and Nathalie were carried into the ambulance.

   Frank, coming to himself, looked at his watch. It was 5:49. Eleven minutes till the closing time. He could make it if he drove the truck at full speed.

   “Please get in the ambulance,” a rescue member said to Frank.

   “Thanks, but I have urgent business,” Frank ran toward his truck. When he was about to get in, a rescue member caught up to him and said, “Just to confirm, your name’s Frank Howard, a truck driver for the United Parcel Service. Is that right?”

   Frank said, “Yes,” and ignited the engine and started the truck. The rescue member said, “We’ll contact you later. Take care,” but Frank could not hear him.

   May God help Frank make it! May God help Frank! He desperately prayed.

   Soon he saw the Cargo Terminal Building. He could make it. He looked at the driver’s panel clock. It was 6:12. Twelve? Why? Impossible! He looked at his watch. It was 5:49, the same time as he had looked at it before. Damn it! The watch had stopped because of the water. It was not water-proof. The shutter must have closed already. He remembered his colleague driver’s story. He had reached the cargo building five minutes late, but the shutter had already been closed. He could do nothing about it. It was nonsense to drive at full speed.

   Suddenly he felt exhausted. His clothes felt cold. What had he done? He shouldn’t have rescued the woman and the girl. It was too late regretting it. He should take a rest, he thought.

   He looked blank as if his spirit had gone away. He released the accelerator. When he reached the airport, he drove the truck to the parking area and stopped it. He entered the north gate of the airport building, turned left, and headed for a buffet “Voyage.” As he walked, wet footsteps were left on the floor. When he entered the buffet, he felt relieved. It was warm. The aroma of coffee comforted him.

   Several customers in the buffet stared at him, who was drenched to the skin from top to toe. He sat at the counter seat and ordered coffee and a pancake.

“What’s the matter with you, mister? You’re all wet?” the clerk said.

“Oh, I fell into a river,” Frank said.

“You’re kidding?”

“No. I’m serious.”

“That’s too bad,” the clerk smiled wryly.

The clerk handed to him a dry towel.

Frank took a sip of coffee and felt a little relaxed. He buttered the pancake and smothered it in syrup. He began to eat it silently. He remembered the things that had happened at the river.

 

 To be continued