The sun rose, pink and hot

The sun rose, pink and hot. Dave held onto the back of the trash truck as it rattled steadily down the road. His leg ached as he shifted his weight onto the other. Sweating under his heavy fluorescent waistcoat, he longed for the day to end.

Still, the shift was almost done. Steve would call the last stop any moment now, and then it’d be back to the station, a hot shower and a steaming mug of tea with the mates. There was a clank and the truck halted in front of a pile of filled bin bags.

“Last stop.” Yelled Steve from the cabin. Dave hopped off the truck, happy to move his stiff legs. Grabbing a bag from the top of the pile he lobbed it overarm into the back of the dumpster. He was at the stage of the day when he no longer cared about getting sprayed with trash. All he wanted was to be home as fast as possible.

He learned early on that the easiest way to get bags into the truck was an overarm swing, yet every day he persisted in trying to stay clean with a neat throw from the chest. Then the first scrap of filth would land, usually on the shoulder, and he’d switch to a sideswing, and so the process would go until he was so dirty he may as well just lob the bags over his head and be done with it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a large blue stone dropping from the apex of his most recent throw. The bag sailed neatly into the reeking pile with a meaty mix between a clang and a crunch. Dave knelt down and picked up the stone. Though his thick plastic gloves stopped him from feeling too well, he got the impression the object was perfectly smooth as he struggled to maintain a grip on it.

He would have flicked it away to join the rest of the trash, but an odd feeling compelled him to pocket it. He was getting ready to finish off the pile when the truck’s engine shuddered into life and the vehicle began to accelerate.

“Hey! Wait for me!” Yelled Dave, dropping his sack and sprinting after the truck. It picked up speed, and Dave sprinted as hard as he could to keep up. He was almost there! He stretched out an arm to catch the standing ledge, but at that moment Ronnie, another friend, stepped across and pushed him back.

“Get back Dave. You’re walking home!” he hissed.

“Ronnie, what the fuck? Don’t be a dick!” Dave gasped, sprinting flat out, yet only just keeping level with the truck. Suddenly he couldn’t keep it up and he staggered to a halt, his breath puffing out in clouds of steam. Wait... clouds of steam? Wasn’t it supposed to be uncomfortably hot?

He had no time to think, and the truck reach the end of the street and pulled around screeching in a 180 degree turn. Dave gaped, he knew Steve raced cars as a hobby, but he had trouble getting that pile of scraps through a roundabout, never mind pulling a handbrake turn!

He had no time to reflect on it as the tires roared against the road in a cloud of acrid smoke and the truck bombed down the road at him. His vision blurred and tunnelled until the uniform houses lining the street were barely visible. All he was focussed on was this imminent death racing his way.

Close to exhaustion from his sprint, Dave nonetheless forced himself onto shaky feet and prepared to leap to one side. It never occurred to him to move off the road immediately, something within him said it had to be an action heroes exit.

He could almost see Steve sitting hunched over the wheel, when he leapt. A huge gust of wind buffeted him as the truck whipped past doing over 130 Km/hour then he was lying on the pavement, panting heavily and dripping with sweat.

The truck stopped in a squeal of brakes and Steve stepped down from the cabin with Ronnie following close behind.

“Mr Davidson!” He said levelly.

“What the fuck’s your problem?” Dave screamed at him.

“My problem? It’s your daughter David. Your harlot of a daughter!” He said.

Dave stared at him in disbelief. “Steve, I don’t have a daughter.”

Ronnie laughed bitterly. “He doesn’t understand.”

“Teach him.” Spat Steve.

Ronnie stepped forward and placed his palm on Dave’s forehead. Dave tried to move his arm to brush off the rough plastic, but found himself pinned down by an incredible force. “Ronnie,” he stammered “Let… me… go!”

The world flashed and warped around him. Windows exploded in a ripple of power that threw Ronnie, Steve and even the dumpster flying. Dave leapt into the air, glowing with a strength he couldn’t control.

“SO YOU THOUGHT TO KILL ME?” he laughed “WELL THE TIDE HAS TURNED!”

All around him the men in suits looked puzzled. One of them shuffled his papers uncomfortably while his partner stared at Dave with an eyebrow raised.

“Would you mind keeping quiet? We’re trying to discuss the intricacies of the economic impact of double glazing in a period of economic depression. Your discourse on… tidal movements,” the words dripped with sarcasm “are of little import to us.”

“Indeed.” Said his partner, “Now either sit down and be quiet or leave.”

Dave stared, unable to utter a word, then shakily stepped down from the table he was standing on. He swallowed and found his mouth utterly dry. In his pocket the stone bumped against his leg…