Chapter 3: The Terminal Gate
The morning sun rose over the industrial district of Columbus, casting long, sharp shadows across the gravel depot of Vanguard Hauling.
At 7:45 AM, Hannah pulled her modest crossover into the main gate. Beside her sat Arthur Sterling, carrying a leather briefcase containing the certified emergency court injunction.
A mobile locksmith van was already parked outside the dispatch trailer. Standing near the fuel pumps were four veteran truck drivers—men with grey beards, weathered faces, and flannel jackets who had worked for the company since the days when Greg only owned a single flatbed.
Hank, a sixty-two-year-old driver who had known Hannah’s father, walked over as she stepped out into the crisp morning air.
""Hannah,"" Hank said, taking off his cap. ""Rumors have been flying around dispatch all morning. Greg sent a text blast last night saying the yard was shutting down, that our pension withholdings were tied up in receivership.""
Hannah walked straight up to Hank and the three other drivers, looking each man directly in the eye.
""The yard is not shutting down, Hank,"" Hannah spoke, her voice carrying clear and steady over the idling diesel engines. ""Greg has been removed as managing partner by court order for corporate misappropriation. The payroll funds for this week are fully secured in an escrow account managed by my legal counsel. You men kept food on our table when we had nothing; I will not let you lose your livelihoods because one man lost his mind.""
The drivers exchanged glances. Hank nodded slowly, placing his cap back on his head with a look of immense relief.
""What do you need us to do, boss?"" Hank asked.
May you like
""Inspect your rigs,"" Hannah said, feeling the first true spark of strength ignite in her chest. ""We have twenty loads of medical supplies heading to Chicago, and they leave on schedule.""
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