Running Dry (14 page)

Jameson's stupid name.  He probably set me up for this.

"I tell you what," Rhonda says, so I stop. "Can you start tomorrow? I'll have the paperwork ready for you to fill out then."

                     "Oh. Yeah.  Sure!"

                     "Great.  Enter at the door out on the West side of the building and ask for Frankie.  She'll train you in."

                     "Frankie.  Okay."  I turn to leave and then turn back. "What time?"

                     "Can you be here by seven?"

                     "Sure.  I'm kind of a morning person."

                     "Well, that's unusual because the rest of the slobs who work here are not."  Then she laughs. "See you tomorrow, Uh...what's your name again?"

                     "Tyler."

                     "Right," she says and looks back down at her desk. 

                     This time I fully back out of the small office and I get myself out of there.

Zane

The next morning, before it gets too light, Evy and I hobble back underground, but not before we marvel at the insane view surrounding us.  Green and trees and through a slight clearing, I can just make out some rocks that must be a ledge to the water below.  I'd love to go explore more, but Evy shouldn't go any further than we already have to, so I promise myself to come back alone again soon.

                     We make it back to the access point eventually.  I lower her to the ground and tell her to sit while I get the EMTs with stretchers to take her back to the runner's dorm.  I'll let her supervisor handle it from here. 

                     Returning to my apartment, I lie on my couch for the next several hours, thinking about what Evy told me about Bekka and Alex.  I want to not care about it, but I do.  I eventually fall asleep and when I wake up, I'm still stuck on this image of the two of them together. 

                     Remembering what Fulton said to me about getting out and moving past it, I decide to hit up that bar he mentioned.  I use my water basin to brush my teeth and wash my face.  I comb my hair and look in the mirror.  It would be a good idea to pour some of my water into my tub and bathe now, but I know if I do, I'll lose the courage and momentum so instead I just use some deodorant, throw on clean clothes and head out before I talk myself out of it. 

It's still early so the club is fairly empty.  I use a water ticket and get a drink at the counter.  I take a seat at a small table and sip my drink slowly as I observe more and more people start to file in.  I count about twenty guys and one woman in the whole place.  She is a short, mousy-looking girl with short dark hair, but she is surrounded by dudes who are desperate for her attention.  She appears to be enjoying herself.

                     I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I knew not to expect a lot of women.  There are jobs for women on base, but not a ton.  It's not discouraged for military men to marry, but it's not an easy thing to accomplish with the given odds.   

                     I wish I'd have brought my notebook so I had something to do.  I feel silly just sitting at a table alone, like I'm staking out a wife.  I hear some more people enter the bar and turn to see Alex walking toward my table.  Great.  I hadn't even considered the fact that he would be on base now.  His head is shaved, just like mine, but he looks just as cocky and confident as the Alex I remember.

                     "Hey, Zane.  How are ya?" he says.

"Not bad, Alex," I answer stiffly.  I remind myself I came here to move past everything.  "Want a seat?"

He looks mildly surprised by my offer.  "Thanks, brother."

                     "I just spent the night with your sister," I say, without thinking.

                     He raises his eyebrows at me.  "Excuse me?"

                     "I mean, in the tunnel, on duty."

                     He laughs.  "Right.  I forgot you're a tunnel guard.  Sweet gig, huh?"

                     "It's alright," I say.

                     "Alright?  I'd say it's better than alright.  I'm shipping to the fight soon.  I'd rather guard a bunch of hot chicks, personally.  If you know what I mean."

                     "I think both jobs have their level of danger," I say.  He laughs again and it sounds like nails on a chalkboard to my ears.  So grating this guy can be sometimes.  "For example," I go on, "Evy was hurt last night."

                     "What?" His expression changes.

                     "She's okay, but she fell and sprained her ankle pretty bad.  She'll be laid up for awhile."

                     "She's so damn clumsy sometimes.  I have no idea why they decided to make her a runner."

                     "Not sure."

                     "I bet you are just pissed they didn't make Bekka one."

                     I stay quiet, unsure of how to respond.

                     Alex takes a swig from his drink and says, "I personally am glad the bitch is gone."

                     I look at him, shaking my head from side to side slowly.  "I think that's enough," I say.

                     "I know.  I know.  You think she’s the greatest, but you don't know, Zane.  Not like I do."

                     I remind myself to stay calm.  "I understand something happened between you two, but it's none of my business and she's gone so we don't need to disrespect her."

                     "Glad of it, too."

                     We sit quietly nursing our drinks for a couple of minutes and I see another woman come in.  This girl I recognize.  A runner named Harlow.  I've worked with her a few times.  A very cute girl, but I know nothing about her.  She's in her second or third year, but she was all business the few times we ran together, or maybe just miserable.  I see her sit down a few tables away, alone. 

                     "I just think," Alex continues, "she messed with my head.  I don't get it.  You know her well.  What do you think?"

                     "I really don't know, Alex.  But I'd really like to just drop it."  My head starts buzzing a little and I'm way past the point of wanting to keep thinking about Bekka and Alex together.  I decide it's time to cut out before things get out of hand.  I stand up.

                     "This is bothering you, isn't it?" Alex says, standing up so we are face to face.  "I just wanted to get some insight, you know, man to man."

                     "Another time maybe.  I gotta go get ready for work."

"Yeah, well, that's the thing.  I don't really have another time.  I'm shipping out in a few days.  Just tell me one thing, okay?"  He pushes his chair back and gets right up into my space.  "Was there something going on with you two?"

                     I sigh.  "If there was, that would be my business."

                     "You think you’re pretty tough, don't ya?"  His voice gets louder and people in the bar start to look over at us.  Alex puffs his chest.  I can see Harlow out of the corner of my eye, watching.

                     "Never said that, Alex," I say, attempting to keep my tone even and calm. 

                     "I think you do.  I think it probably really bugs you that Bekka decided to get with me after you left.  I'm sure you think you can take me down, but I'd like to see ya try."

                     I stay grounded to the spot I'm standing, even though Alex has his face pressed up against mine, his chest tight in a dramatic display.  He's taller than me and since he’s been training, he's almost as big as I am.  I say calmly, "I'm not gonna fight you.  It would be a waste of time."

                     "Why is that?  I know you want to, I can see it in your eyes.  You think you're better than me.  Always have.  You're just too much of a wuss, just like everyone says."

                     "I don't see how fighting over a girl who is gone is going change anything.  And you are an asshole who isn't going to change no matter what happens here, so I don't see the point.  If you want to get your junkie kicks, you can do that on the battlefield.  Now I've got to go to work."  I push in my chair and walk out. 

Chapter 20

Bekka

I'm nervous about the job but excited to actually have some kind of purpose, even if it is just in a food packing plant.  This might be a great way to get some friends and start doing some real undercover research.  I want to have something good to report back to Jameson the next time I meet with him, show him I'm smarter than he thinks.

                     The fastest way to get to The Food Bar puts me directly in the path of my homeless friend.  I was hoping he had moved, but I see his pile of things in the same spot as I walk nearer.  I would like to avoid him, but if I plan to make this trip everyday, and be on time, I need to go the quickest route.  Plus, what are the odds he'll remember me.  I'd imagine tons of people walk past him every day. 

                     As I approach, I see he isn't there, but the duffle bag and other things I think belong to him are still scattered around.  I wonder where he is and why he would have left his things, but I don't stop to find out.  I don't think I want to know that badly.  Besides, I can't be late, especially after my big declaration about being a morning person.

                     Once I'm about a block from the factory, I see black smoke filtering out of the chimney near the top of the tall building.  I see a few people on the streets migrate toward a side door, which is probably the one I need to enter as well.  I start to feel apprehensive.  I hate being vulnerable.  Hopefully, I will figure out how everything operates soon and things will be fine, maybe even good.  Maybe I was meant to be a food packer. 

                     I inhale a big gulp of dry air and head through the door.  Once inside, I'm not sure what I should do.  I know I'm supposed to talk to Frankie, but I don't know where to find her.  Or who I should ask.  It's so loud; people and machine noises bounce off the high brick walls in all directions.  Workers walk past and around me.  Everyone is occupied or otherwise unconcerned by my presence. 

                     Someone comes in the door behind me practically slamming into my back.

                     "Excuse me," he says somewhat unpleasantly.  I contemplate asking him for help, but he pushes past me without stopping.  I step to the side, away from the door and stand awkwardly, watching and waiting nervously for a clue as to what I should do next. 

There is a huge piece of machinery in the middle of the floor and around the outside of it people mulling and shuffling about.  Pretty much everybody is wearing dirty work clothes and I start to feel out of place in my light gray running pants and light yellow t-shirt.  I make a note to wear some jeans and a black shirt tomorrow, if I make it through today.

Everyone has on big earmuff type things, which I am currently very jealous about.  The noise of the machinery is close to deafening.  At the far wall is a window with someone in a fancy suit peering down at the whole operation, obviously the supervisors.  Their environment looks bright and sterile compared to the things happening outside of the glass.  I wonder if I need to somehow find my way to that office, when a woman maybe a few years older than me approaches.  She's wearing a black stocking cap with just a bit of dark brown hair poking from it.  She has a round,smooth face, a clean dark t-shirt on, and dirty blue jeans.  She smiles at me and some of my tension fades.

"Are you Tyler?" she asks.

"Yes."

"I'm Frankie."  She extends her hand to me. 

"Hi," is all I can think to say as I shake her hand.

"Follow me."

We head up a set of stairs that open up to the lower space from which we'd just come.  The big conveyor system below is feeding everything up and into stations situated all around this level of the building. 

"Good thing you have a ponytail, otherwise you would need a hair net.  That's why I wear the hat," she says.

"Isn't it warm?" I ask, because it feels like I have entered an inferno.  The whole place feels like one of those days when the winds blow heat at you with strong bursts.  I can see now it's coming from huge exhaust fans that are built into the walls.  They hum in tune with the rest of the contraptions running and I'm having to yell so Frankie can hear me.

"I'm used to it.  I rarely go anywhere now without my hat."  We stop in front of an empty spot at the conveyor belt.  Next to it, on the floor, is a pile of boxes.  "So, here is where you will work.  We call it the 'boxing ring.'  Clever, huh?" she says, dryly.  "Your job is simply to box up the finished product.  We put six rows of four in each box and they go to the market that way."

"Okay," I say, pretty confident I can handle that.  "Then what?"

"Then, you close and seal the boxes and place them on this outer belt which carries then to the loading zone for delivery.  It's pretty simple, but don't be fooled.  This belt goes fast.  The trick is to keep up with it."