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Of Hard Hats and Baseball Bats chapter 1

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Chapter 1: Train ride to nowhere

He looked outside the window, seeing the arid landscape race past him, seeing without registering.  He had a toolbox on his lap, and as he ran his hands over the cold metal tools inside it, he sighed.  He'd left behind his life – if what he'd had for the past year since his graduation could be called a 'life' at all – and his friends – which were just as scarce as his life was empty – for this promise of wealth, of fame and fortune.  He kept thinking about the job offer he'd gotten, kept replaying the conversations leading up to the present in his mind, and he found a numbing gap.  He had forgotten it already, the pain of what had come before too sharp and the need to escape too great.
He sighed again, picking up a magnetic screwdriver and pulling along a smaller one.  Absent-mindedly, he tried to pry them apart without really putting effort in it, musing meanwhile on the happenings of that morning – the deserted train station, the nameless man that had given him his instructions and his gear, the note about the contents of the bag...  He looked again at the piece of paper lying crumpled in the ashtray, shaking his head.  He could still feel his lighter in his back pocket of his jeans and took a decision.  As the paper turned to smoke slowly in the ashtray, he looked back outside, his eyes roaming the landscape but his mind too occupied by his musings to register what he saw.

Well, here ah am, sittin' on a train to nowhere... stupid how losing everythin' drives a man to do insane things like this.  I mean, the background info on this Reliable Excavation & Demolition is scarce but what ah did find... woowee... Employee deaths left right and center, scandals that'd make murderers blush, a family feud... all that's missin' is druggies an' kiddie murderers in their employ...  Come ta think of it, gettin' this job was a cinch – ya'd think a comp'ny as big an' important as RED would screen the people they interview so thoroughly they know what yeh ate 'fore ya even digest it...  Not true in mah case, least.  Ah got in easy...

But let's not worry 'bout things like that!  Ah know for certain y'all might be wonderin' who I am, huh?  Mah name's Dwight Markham.  Usually friends jus' call me 'mister fix-it-all', though – ain't a single thing invented or built ah cannot perfect.  Cars?  Add a detail here an' a tweak in the engine there and she rides like a bat outta hell.  Cameras?  Fine-tune the software so and so and she's got a higher resolution than army equipment!  Home security?  Cameras placed there, panic button here, laser eye at these doors an' sensors at those windows – no one'll enter your home at night.  You built a shed?  With some extra reinforcements ah can make it withstand a hurricane!  ...y'all get the point, I think...  'S just a shame that all that fancy knowledge didn't do shit for me yet...

Sittin' on a train with no one else on it does make a man think, know what ah mean?  An' I don't mean philosophisin', like, about the meanin' of life.  No, ah mean practical, down-ta-earth stuff.  Like why there's no one else on this train, for starters.  Not a livin' soul in sight – there's a cup of coffee on one'a the trays in my car, though...  Or why it had ta be a train, an' not a bus or a car.  Or where the hell it'd be goin' to after five hours of travel...  Or – an' that's the most puzzlin' question – why there's all kinds of abandoned items on this train – ah can see that coffee cup, an' there's a stuffed animal three seats b'fore mine, or the hankie with the bloodstains on it that's lyin' halfway down the car...  Who left 'em?  Why'd they leave 'em?  An' why didn't anyone clean 'em up yet?  I have no idea, but one thing's fer sure...  this train's creepy as hell..

...an' that don't bode too well for the job ah'm headin' to...



"You'll be arriving in ten minutes."  The cold, slightly lilting voice of the woman that hired him sounded from the speakers – Dwight jumped in fright, the sound so sudden and loud after hours of silence, and without even knowing it he had the wrench he'd been absent-mindedly toying with firmly in hand.  Clearly he wasn't being watched, for the voice continued unimpeded, without even a hint of a pause.  "Make sure you have your full belongings with you as the train will not be returning.  Do not attempt to stay on board, the train is fumigated with chlorine gas once it passes a certain distance past the drop point.  The train will stop for a set timeframe of one minute only.  Your base camp is about two miles along the road – follow the red arrows.  Thank you for your understanding and have a nice evening."  Dwight sighed, sagging back into his seat, putting the wrench back down.  He had only two bags – one with his belongings, and one with the equipment he'd been given to do his job.  He had already inspected the toolbox, finding it to contain every essential tool and quite a few non-essential ones as well, and he knew the other bag contained a hard hat, overalls, gloves and – something he had decidedly not given any thought – a pump-action shotgun, pre-loaded, with live ammunition.  The train started to slow down, and he picked up the bags, moving to one of the doors of the car he was on.  He noticed the desert landscape still looked the same as when he'd looked out an hour ago, or an hour before that – red earth, hardy vegetation in sparse groups, patches of grass that looked as though they'd lost the will to live.  Again, he heaved a sigh and turned his eyes to the horizon, where he saw a group of buildings.

"That must be base camp...", he said softly, taking a deep breath as the train slowed down even more and ground to a halt in what could barely be called a train station: a barren metal platform with steps leading down to a dusty road.  There wasn't a building to see for miles except for the base camp in the distance.  "Ah well..."  He picked up his bags and stepped onto the platform, his guitar case on his back – behind him, the doors closed with a firm 'click' and the train started moving again, picking up speed until it disappeared in the distance behind a rock formation.  Dwight looked around again, groaning.  "How'd they find a hellhole large 'nough for an entire company ta hide in?"  He turned to the road, finding a lone red arrow stand beside the road, bearing the hastily painted words 'RED base', causing him to chuckle.  "Ah might have ta reconsider my opinion 'bout this comp'ny... maybe they earned 'emselves this hellhole..."


"Well I'll be-"  It was laughable at any other time, but Dwight couldn't see the humour of the situation in his current frame of mind.  The road had ended somewhere between the last arrow and the point he was at now, and he was at a loss.  "Follow the road, that damned company woman said in the train... it leads ta base, she said...  But that requires a road to follow, dammit!  How am ah supposed to git ta base now?", he grumbled, looking around him in the failing light of dusk.  The building was still dead ahead and he'd been getting closer – but another set of buildings had appeared on the horizon, though farther away, and it was enough to make him doubt his destination.  "God-damn...", he cursed, blushing as he did, and as if to reinforce his slip, he suddenly noticed another arrow a ways from him.  "Well now I've seen it all, don't ah?", he muttered, picking up his belongings again and continuing to the next arrow, from where he could see the road again, continuing to the first set of buildings he'd noticed.  This new arrow had 'RED base' painted on it just as hastily, but someone had added a little something to those two words: in between them, in a curvy freehand, stood 'assholes'.  It was enough to stop Dwight again briefly.  "Who'd have a reason ta call them assholes?  's Not like their job could disturb anyone...  Environmentalists out here, where there's not even a road ta guide them?  ...The competition?  Out here in the middle of nowhere?"  He had found, during his extensive research about Reliable Excavation and Demolition, their main competitor to be Builders' League United – both companies were owned by men from the same family who feuded bitterly over the legacy of the family, and the corresponding estate.  However, this Builders' League United surely wouldn't be in the middle of nowhere... they'd be wiser than that, Dwight thought as he shouldered the bags again, shaking his head and dismissing the uneasy feeling he got when he'd first seen the added scribble on the arrow.
As you requested, a new (unfinished) story to keep you company! 'Of Hard Hats and Baseball Bats' is the story of Dwight Markham (my shy RED engineer). I hope you'll love it. It will have more violence and a darker mood than 'Like a bolt of lightning' though - eventually.

For now, enjoy this short first chapter!
© 2012 - 2024 Shade-Duelist
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aizenmi's avatar
Hey dear ^^ The story seems to be very interesting, and as usual it's very well written :huggle: And Dwight's accent is so damn adorable, I love how you characterize him *-*

I'll definitely stick to this story until the first hetero couple appears...ahaha, well, just ignore me :XD: