Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Flea Market (4)
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After finishing the delivery and heading home, I got a call from dispatcher Tom.
"Jake, I've got some urgent cargo heading to Lake Charles, Louisiana tomorrow. Can you take it?"
"Louisiana? I'm not too familiar with that area..."
I really hadn't been to Louisiana more than a handful of times.
It was right next to Texas, but surprisingly, I never had much reason to go there.
"It's an expedited shipment, so it's $1.20 per mile. Round trip's 600 miles, so that's $720 total. It's building materials, and as long as you arrive by tomorrow afternoon, you're good. Help me out just this once."
Not a bad deal at all.
More than that, the chance to see somewhere new was appealing.
Lately, with some extra peace of mind, opportunities like this didn't feel so bad.
"Sounds good, I'll do it."
"I owe you one! Pickup's at 5 a.m. I'll text you the address. Thanks!"
I hung up and stepped out of the trailer.
Sam was sitting in a chair in the yard, watching the sunset.
The red glow of dusk painted his face.
"Sam, I'm heading to Louisiana for work tomorrow."
"Louisiana? That's unexpected."
Sam perked up with interest.
"Tell me about it. All the way to Lake Charles."
At the mention of 'Lake Charles,' Sam's eyes suddenly lit up.
"Oh, the place famous for casinos. Jake, if you have time, check out the Coushatta Casino Resort. Their buffet is killer."
"Casino buffet?"
"Yeah. They run the buffet cheap to draw in customers. Weekday lunch is only about $13. But the food's got tons of variety and it's seriously good."
"Whoa, a buffet for $13? That's insanely cheap."
"Haha, I guarantee you won't regret it. It's run by an Indian tribe, so the food has a unique flair and it's solid."
The next day, I woke up at 4 a.m.
Habit kicked in—I brewed some coffee first and pulled out the chocolate muffin I'd bought yesterday.
It was cold, but it was plenty for breakfast.
"Alright, let's hit the road."
I fired up the truck and took off.
As always, the highway at dawn was dead quiet.
Only the occasional red taillights of passing trucks flickered in the darkness.
I took Interstate 10 east.
After Houston, the sky started lightening bit by bit. Morning had come.
Click.
Feeling a little lonely, I turned on the radio.
The early morning news came on.
[Breaking news. Last night, the body of a woman in her twenties was found near a truck stop off I-10 east of Houston.]
The first story was heavy.
My hand moved on its own, cranking up the volume.
[Police say the victim was 22-year-old waitress Jessica Molton, who went missing after her early morning shift yesterday and was discovered 12 hours later in the woods behind the truck stop. This brings the total to five young women found near truck stops around Houston in the past three months.]
Another murder.
My face soured instinctively as I listened.
[The FBI is investigating the possibility of a serial killer and expanding the probe, focusing especially on truck drivers. Police urge people to avoid truck stops late at night and not to travel alone.]
As expected, truckers were the prime suspects again.
With incidents always happening near truck stops, it was unavoidable...
But I was already worrying about how strict the police checks would get.
[If you witnessed anything suspicious, please report it immediately...]
Click.
I turned off the radio in the end.
A heavy silence filled the cab.
'What kind of monster does this? Why...'
The truck stop mentioned in the news was one I stopped at sometimes.
I even recognized some of the staff there. The victim might've been someone I knew.
Grip.
My hands tightened on the wheel.
Fortunately, Dorothy's diner was in a busy area, so no worries there, but she'd said she'd skip evening shifts for a while just in case.
If this kept up, prejudices against truckers would only get worse.
After Houston, the sky gradually brightened.
The eastern horizon shifted from navy to purple, then slowly to orange.
Texas sunrises were always a spectacle.
A massive red sun rising over vast plains.
It felt surreal, like something from another planet.
The landscape started changing after Beaumont.
Texas's dry brown plains slowly turned into green wetlands.
Soon, crossing the massive bridge over the Sabine River, I spotted the sign for the Louisiana state line.
[Welcome to Louisiana - Sportsman's Paradise]
It felt like stepping into a whole new world.
Endless swamps stretched out on both sides of the road, hitting me first.
Cypress trees stood like ghosts over the water.
Grey Spanish moss hung long from the branches, swaying slowly in the breeze—like a centuries-old witch's hair.
Morning mist rose faintly over the swamps.
White fog drifted across the water, weaving between trees, then sunlight pierced through, turning everything golden.
It was eerie and beautiful, hard to put into words.
"Whoa... what the hell is that?"
Something moved on the water. Up close, it was an alligator.
An American alligator, easily over six feet, swimming lazily.
Its bumpy scales glinted in the morning sun.
'These things just chilling by the roadside...'
Further on, flocks of egrets appeared.
Elegant birds with pure white feathers foraging at the water's edge.
One dipped its beak swiftly and pulled out a silver fish.
There were great blue herons too.
Striding slowly through the shallows on long legs, hunting prey.
Suddenly, it snapped its neck out and snatched a fish like lightning.
"Haha... glad I came."
Scenes you couldn't see just anywhere.
I leisurely took in the view out the window and tuned into Cajun Country Radio.
[Bon matin, mes amis! Good morning, folks! Another beautiful day in Louisiana is underway!]
The DJ's unique accent flowed out.
Cajun French—a mix of French and English.
[We're kicking off today with zydeco. Boozoo Chavis's 'Paper in My Shoe'!]
A lively rhythm of accordion and washboard filled the cab.
Hearing this made it really sink in—I was in Louisiana.
Heading further east, the swamps deepened. The road was like a bridge over the marsh.
Black water stretched endlessly on both sides, dotted with water lilies and lotuses here and there.
Some spots had little cabins built on stilts over the water.
Like houses perched on poles—probably to handle frequent flooding.
An old man was fishing leisurely in front of one.
Classic Cajun grandpa vibe: long beard, beat-up straw hat.
I waved, and he grinned wide, waving back.
Splash!
Suddenly, something huge leaped from the water.
A massive garfish. Called alligator gar, this prehistoric monster stretched over six feet, with a long snout lined in sharp teeth like an alligator.
'What a wild variety of creatures.'
Pressing on, huge sugarcane fields appeared.
Endless green stalks rippling in the wind, straight out of a movie.
Louisiana was pretty famous for sugarcane production.
"Man, if you got lost in there, you'd never find your way out."
A ways later, rain started pouring out of nowhere.
The clear weather from moments ago felt like a lie.
Boom!
Thunder cracked in seconds, and a downpour hammered the truck.
Rain so thick I could barely see.
Sam's offhand advice popped into my head.
'Louisiana gets a lot of rain, so always be careful. It's torrential.'
Wipers on max, but visibility sucked.
I dropped to 40 mph and drove cautiously.
About ten minutes later, the rain stopped dead.
Like turning off a faucet.
Then sunlight poured back in.
Steam rose from the wet road.
And just like that, a double rainbow arched over the swamp.
"Ha... that's gorgeous."
I pulled over and snapped some pics.
Every time I came back to Louisiana, I'd remember this moment for sure.
Capturing the dreamlike scene, I was certain.
I arrived in Lake Charles at 11 a.m.
[Lake Charles - Festival City]
As I entered the city, the air shifted.
Buildings with French-style balconies, vibrant pastel houses, jazz melodies drifting from the streets.
The dull Louisiana of dark greens and mud was vanishing like a mirage.
I made it safely to the logistics center and unloaded the cargo.
"Tough in this heat. First time in Louisiana?"
The staffer handed me a cold sweet tea.
Southern-style sweet iced tea.
"Yeah, first time. This town's pretty cool, huh?"
"Haha, pretty exotic, right? If you haven't eaten lunch, hit up the Coushatta Casino buffet. Cheap and delicious. Worth the drive."
Second recommendation already.
Both pointing to the casino buffet—now I was curious.
The Coushatta Casino Resort was in a small town called Kinder.
Thirty minutes north of Lake Charles.
[Welcome to the Coushatta Tribal Reservation]
The sign marked the reservation.
This was an autonomous area run by the Coushatta Indian tribe.
A massive casino resort sat within the 154-acre reservation.
The parking lot was enormous—like several football fields combined.
Even better, there was a dedicated truck parking area.
18-wheelers lined up in rows.
'They welcome truckers too.'
The casino building was huge. A seven-story hotel-casino combo resort.
The entrance glittered with neon signs, flashing even in broad daylight.
The automatic doors slid open, blasting cool AC and that unmistakable casino smell.
A mix of cigarette smoke, perfume, and money—never got used to it.
Ding ding ding! Beep beep! Jing jing!
Slot machine sounds assaulted my ears.
Hundreds of electronic chirps echoing chaotically.
The casino floor was vast, seemingly endless.
A sign said over 2,800 slot machines alone.
Dozens of blackjack, poker, roulette, and craps tables made sense of the scale.
"...This is a sight in its own right."
Looking around, mostly elderly folks at the slots.
White-haired grannies mechanically pressing buttons, staring at screens.
One even had an oxygen tank hooked up, parked right at a machine.
'Is it really worth going that far...'
I shook my head and kept walking.
The buffet was on the second floor.
[Seven Clans Buffet]
I spotted the sign after a short walk.
Named after the seven clans of the Coushatta tribe.
"Alone?"
A young Native American woman at the desk asked.
"Yes."
"Weekday lunch is $12.99. Drinks extra for $2.99."
Really $13.
Absurdly cheap.
In an era where a McDonald's Big Mac combo was $11, a buffet for $13?
I paid quick and went inside.
And I was floored right away.
It was... a food paradise.