Chapter Three
The tinny click of the time clock filled the small, barren office.
In the past month, the workers had become complacent about the handshake meetings that were supposed to take place at shift changes.
The handshake meeting—perfectly named for the passing of news from shift to shift, followed by a handshake—was a tradition carried over from the forties.
Ever since the corporate office had announced the impending closure of the plant, and the skeleton crew was put into place, Kara and the others had felt the handshake meetings were unnecessary.
She couldn’t have cared less if the crew before her left a few minutes early, and her boss, Jackson Darner, didn’t seem to mind that they’d let those meetings go.
Kara was used to the desolation of the plant during the night shift.
She barely ever saw the other three members of the crew.
At first, the idea of being an equipment operator hadn’t been appealing to Kara; but before she and Daryl had purchased her car, she’d needed a job that was within walking distance from her home, and in Williamsport, the plant was the only option.
Daryl had wanted her close by, and he’d nixed the idea of her working in nearby Frederick, which was a larger town, but thirty minutes away.
She had thought she’d work at the plant for only a short time, until something better came along, but as the tension thickened between her and Daryl, and worries of him cheating mounted, she grew fond of the solitary work at the plant.
Once she and Daryl had separated, remaining at the plant was a no-brainer.
The pay was significantly higher there than it was in retail, which would enable her to save money faster and make her dream of leaving Williamsport come true.
To Kara, leaving couldn’t happen soon enough.
Despite the jolt she experienced when the gate locked each night, she actually found the plant relaxing.
When she was here, she was away from her mother’s prodding phone calls, and reminders of Daryl and Kelly.
At the plant, she could almost pretend she was somewhere far away. Almost.
The quiet evenings enabled her to complete her anatomy homework in peace.
She didn’t even mind the physical work of clearing out the coal chutes and cleaning the equipment, but Kara had no desire to end up like the employees from the earlier shifts, most of whom were in their sixties and had been working at the plant since they’d graduated from high school.
Everyday she worked, her bank account grew, bringing her one step closer to leaving Williamsport behind.
She glanced at the other two time cards in the metal holder secured to the wall.
A note with her name on it was taped to the time clock.
She snagged it and unfolded the paper, recognizing her boss’s rushed scrawl.
Paul’s replacement starts tonight, 7:00.
Sorry can’t be there for orientation, Nancy’s b’day.
Show him around—J. Kara pictured meek Jackson Darner and his shy, plump wife, Nancy, their gray-haired heads touching as they leaned across the dinner table, gazing into each other’s eyes.
She’d almost lost faith in relationships. Almost.
Paul Warren had quit last week, no thanks to her.
One day he just hadn’t shown up for work.
She hadn’t meant to cause trouble by complaining, but the way he looked at her creeped her out.
And he was always making snide comments, joining in with the others when they made fun of Jackson, calling him Mr. Safe and Sane.
Sure, Jackson was methodical, careful, maybe even a little dull, but Kara found those traits appealing.
Her only regret was that she’d had to work two hours of overtime the last two nights to cover his duties as well as her own.
Damn it, Jackson. They needed the help until the plant closed, but the last thing she wanted to do was break in a new employee and answer all the typical questions: Why do they call that area the graveyard?
Has anyone ever fallen down the coal chute?
Why are there so many cameras? Why aren’t there lights everywhere?
And her favorite: Aren’t you scared walking around this place at night?
Kara glanced at the clock. Great, he’s already late.
The familiar beep and clank of the alarm, signaling a blocked coal chute, filled the air.
She sighed. This night just keeps getting better and better.
She dropped her jacket and bag on the table and reached for the gloves, goggles, face shield, and respirator mask. God, how she hated the respirator mask.
Clad as if she was going into surgery, Kara climbed the grated metal steps that led from the second story to the third, slipping the thick gloves onto her small hands.
The alarm grew louder as she neared the chute, echoing two stories below off of the massive metal tanks and concrete floor.
She looked down through the open ceiling, each footstep causing the catwalk to vibrate.
When she’d first begun working at the plant, she’d had a difficult time feeling safe on the metal stairs that weaved their way from floor to floor like ivy up the walls.
She used to cling to the railings, afraid she’d fall to her death.
Kara’s diminishing relationship with Daryl had somehow strengthened her independence, yet fed her insecurities at the same time.
Her tryst with Dean had underscored that insecurity, and she had been quick to nip it in the bud before it ate away at her resolve to get out of town, propelling her forward with more confidence. Now those stairs were a piece of cake.
Once at the top, Kara stared down the coal chute, her body shaking from the force of the coal vibrators, feeders, and pulverizers rattling below.
She hit the red alarm button, temporarily quieting the beeps, which still rang in her head.
She inhaled through gritted teeth, hefted the punching rod, and began the difficult task of trying to clear the rain soaked coal from the chute.
Sweat beaded her forehead and soaked her armpits.
She shoved and pushed with all her might, but the damn thing was packed tight.
She withdrew the metal punching rod, leaning on it to catch her breath.
Her face, covered in soot, grew tight as she realized how much Paul’s absence affected her.
They’d had a system with the clearing of the chute.
He cleared two clogs for each of the clogs she cleared.
It was the one thing he’d done right. Where the hell was his replacement?
She suddenly wished that cross-training was mandatory for plant employees.
Jackson had explained when she’d first been hired that each job was specialized and each employee stayed in his or her own area.
She muscled the punching rod back into the chute, cursing the rain that pelted the coal.
Ten minutes later, her arms and chest were covered in thick black soot, her shoulders throbbed with pain, and the chute was still packed tight.
She needed air.
She walked outside, and stood on the catwalk overlooking the river. The chute could wait.