The heavy-duty turbo-diesel engine under the floorboards screamed as Bus Number Zero-Four hurtled toward the Weigh-In-Motion gantry on Skybridge One.
Marcus “Mac” Cole kept his work boot pinned flat against the accelerator.
“Fifty yards to the scale plate, Boss!” Mac yelled over the roar. “If those trapdoors open under our axles, we’re swimming in two hundred feet of canal sludge!”
“Keep your eyes on the center line, Mac!” Julian Vance replied, his hand gripping Mobile Register Annex #04-B. “Lin Mei, read the exact text of Commercial Freight Rule Ninety-Four, Sub-Clause C!”
“Reading it now!” Lin Mei shouted, bracing her back against the chained crates of 1996 Linotype lead molds. “Under the 1996 Freight Precedence Code, all protective vehicular armor, auxiliary refrigeration machinery, mobile transaction terminals, and authorized medical personnel are legally classified as Non-Billable Protective Packaging and Tare Weight! They are excluded from the net billable cargo manifest!”
They built this checkpoint to weigh every ounce of the working class, Julian thought, peering through the rain-lashed vision slit. They forgot that in municipal contract law, the protective container doesn’t count against the freight.
Above the wet concrete roadway, the steel gantry’s stadium floodlights hissed with ozone, blinding the cab with harsh white glare.
