 (Cover and prompt credit goes to u/verdantvoidling Thanks for the wonderful inspo you crazy bastard) 

My big-rig catches a pothole and jostles the entire chassis. She's only got a few thousand miles left in her. The floorboard smells like piss, ain't like I got nowhere to stop. 

This bridge has been falling apart before my daddy was in my granddaddy’s sack. Sure beats drivin on the ground though. 

As my wheels settle I hear all of em bumping in the back like a thousand sacks of writhing meat. I get my bearings as I pass the billboard. Faded to hell, "EARTH TWO." Yeah right. They only thought so cause you can breathe. Ain't nobody asked why. This colony ain't what it used to be, that's for sure. But we got an important job for all menfolk.

My radio cracks to life and ole Chuck comes over the line. "Ferryman, where the fuck are ya?" 

"Still a couple minutes from the sloppydrop. Had some skitters gnawin at the truck. You know how it is."

"10-4 Ferryman. But put some lead in your foot. They're hungry." 

"Ain't wanna make em wait haha!" 

My headlights kick on as another ash cloud moves over the suns. The southern flames make the horizon look liquid. Reminds me of the shoeshine I got in my cup holder. 

I hold the cup to my lips and feel the shine rip away a layer of my tastebuds. Damn that's good. 

The factory peeks up at me as I crest the top of the bridge. They start clawing at the container. They always do, it's like they can tell they're getting close. 

I slap the back of the cab a few times. "Only downhill from here haha!" 

One of em screams at me, "GRHEESAAHH!" 

"Yeah yeah, gresah you too buddy." 

I pop 'er in cruise control and swig on the shine. We'll all be there soon enough. 

\*\*\*

I turn off of the bridge into the large factory dock. Chuck meets me on the floor with a couple boys and about a dozen soldiers. The open space is lit by a few yellow bulbs trying their damn best.

My cargo has gotten real antsy, yellin an screaming. All that banging is gonna dent the metal. Their ruckus echos off of the distant walls.

We got a new hire, must've dropped him recently. No telling what he did to end up here. Poor fella is standing there about to wet his britches. 

I pop the parking brake so she doesn't run and hop out of the truck. Chuck comes and gives me a light pat on the shoulder. "Good to see you man, been a while." 

I pull out a puffstick and grip it between my lips. "Yerp. Been lotsa nothin." 

"How's the farm? The kids?" 

"Farms how's it's always been. Kids are a bit fatter." 

Chuck laughs and turns to the new kid. "Alright, go open up the container." Kids face goes whiter than mama's milk. Chuck rests a hand on his shoulder, "I'm just fucking with you kid. But go grab the net." 

The other boys laugh and follow em. I go ahead and prep the truck. 

It's about time to let the sheep out. 

I wrap back around the back of the truck. They've got the net fastened and most of em are stood back to the corner. 

Chuck gets in front of the group. "Alright new kid. You gotta be bait." 

His lip starts quivering. "B-bait?" 

"Bait." 

The kid steps behind the truck, I run to the side of the container and pop the latch. 

The sheep come flowing out like a geyser. An eruption of pale white forms. They flail their malformed limbs.  "GRHESHA GHRESHA GRHESHA!" 

They're chomping at the air, spitting black bile all over the loading dock. The kid's coated in spit and slime. He falls back and tries to crawl away. One of the sheep catches his leg with a tooth and tears a hole through his skin. 

The kid's leg ain't bleeding bad but he starts convulsing and screaming. It's only a matter of time with a sheep bite. One of the soldiers steps forward and lowers their rifle. 

The shot puts a brief pause in the sheep's snarling. Chuck is still laughing. 

I put my fingers to my temples. "Damn Chuck. You ain't gotta do the kid like that." 

The nets extended far enough that the sheep are pulling chunks off of the kid's corpse. "What's wrong, Ferryman? Ruin your lunch? We're all serving death sentences." 

The other boys creep behind the snarlin mass and synch up the back of the net. Ain't seen one of them die in a while. They tie it tight.

\*\*\*

Me and Chuck walk ahead of the four boys. They're dragging the net with long ropes, extra cautious after watching the new kid get turned into a snack. 

The soldiers walking behind em probably aren't making them feel any better. 

You get used to the noises sheep make after a while. At this point, I hardly notice em. Even as their yells fill the long concrete corridor to the feedin room. 

They thrash against the net and each other. Cutting the other sheep and adding to the thick stains on the concrete. Struggling doesn't help them. It only puts more stress on the kid’s backs.

Chuck looks over at me and gives me a smile. I think he thinks we're friends. I'd sooner push him into the net than shed a hair for him.

It's just business. And his is none of mine. 

We make it to the end of the hallway and the boys are exhausted. Chuck goes to fiddle with the massive steel doors. They creak like they've never been opened before. I know its only been an hour or so.

Hot air pours from the chamber. The sweltering pressure immediately sweats my brow. My nose never fails to curl at the smell.

Chuck barks at the boys, "load em all up! If you ain't out in 5 I'm closing you in!" 

I go ahead and step into the office. Little tiny room with one window looking out over the chamber. The kids are scrambling. Dragged all those sheep a half mile and that was the easy part. 

The chamber itself is huge, with nothing but a door opposite of the one that's open and a big fuck-off grated drain down the middle. The sheep have already given up. They know where they are, probably better than we do. 

The kids scramble out of the room and I wait for Chuck to seal the door tight. I hear Chuck's pocket radio pop over the speakers in my office. 

"Alright Ferryman. Go on and hit the Mutton Button!" 

I do as I'm told. After dozens of years, it never gets old. The door on the far side of the chamber opens instantly. The fading yellow light does no work to illuminate what's inside. 

Like a fog of shadow, a black mist seeps from the darkness. Suddenly, and all at once, hundreds of barbed tentacles shoot from the shadows. 

Each finds its mark, impaling all of the sheep and carrying them into the air. The sheep vibrate and slowly turn from a sickly pale into a dark neutral gray. 

The tentacles grow thicker, more robust, while the sheep begin to flake and crack. Black bile pours from the sheep's wounds. 

"Alright Ferryman, cut it!" 

The door closes instantly, severing the tentacles and sending them crashing to the ground. All of the sheep instantly liquify and splash against the floor and walls. There's a good two feet of sludge. It slowly twirls and filters down into the drain at the center. 

Chuck walks into the office, it's barely large enough for two folks. He slaps me on the back, "Holy damn Ferryman. That's why I love ya, look at this crop! That's a damn good yield of Grade A petroleum!" 

"Got a good haul this time around. Maybe I could get a few extra rations? For me and the kids?" 

Chuck laughs. I hate that laugh. "No promises." 

We walk together down the long corridor. The boys are already down in the hold loading up my rations. Chuck said we might get more rations next time. He said that last time too.

I hop in the truck and crank her to life. Chuck yells up to the cabin. "See you in a month! Be safe out there." 

I put her into gear and get on my way. Just as I pull out another truck comes in to take my place. 

I look at the other trailer. Even under the purr of my engine, I can still hear the sheep banging. I'll always hear them.