Chapter 13 Buried Truths #2
The maintenance requests that seemed to vanish before reaching management.
As the explanation continued, Mason's stomach tightened.
Not because he doubted Eli.
Because he didn't.
Not for a second.
By the time the younger man finished, silence settled heavily across the porch.
Neither spoke immediately.
The night suddenly felt less peaceful.
The crickets seemed quieter.
The darkness deeper.
Mason stared toward the fields.
Thinking.
Remembering.
Because the truth was that none of Eli's discoveries surprised him.
Not entirely.
That realization bothered him more than anything else.
"You knew."
The observation came softly.
Not accusing.
Just honest.
Mason released a slow breath.
"Some of it."
Eli looked at him carefully.
"How much?"
The question wasn't simple.
Neither was the answer.
Mason rubbed a hand across his jaw.
Searching for the right words.
"The brickworks has always had problems."
A pause.
"Most places like this do."
The younger man remained silent.
Listening.
Waiting.
Mason appreciated that.
"It isn't easy work."
He looked toward the distant glow of the kilns.
"The heat alone can be dangerous."
The memories surfaced immediately.
Years of them.
Near misses.
Equipment failures.
Accidents nobody talked about afterward.
The stories accumulated quickly.
Too quickly.
"People get hurt sometimes."
Eli nodded slowly.
"I know."
"No."
Mason shook his head.
"You know the official version."
The distinction mattered.
A lot.
Because the official version rarely reflected reality.
Especially not in industries built on toughness and pride.
Workers learned that lesson early.
Very early.
Mason leaned forward.
Resting his forearms on his knees.
"There was a conveyor accident about six years ago."
The memory appeared clearly.
A young worker.
New to the job.
An equipment malfunction nobody expected.
The injury wasn't fatal.
But it changed the man's life permanently.
"He lost three fingers."
Eli's eyes widened.
The younger man immediately reached for his notebook.
Then stopped.
Choosing instead to simply listen.
Mason continued.
"The report blamed operator error."
A bitter laugh escaped him.
"Everybody knew better."
The words hung in the night air.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
True.
"Eli."
The younger man's voice lowered.
"What really happened?"
Mason stared into the darkness.
"The safety guard had been malfunctioning for weeks."
Silence followed.
A painful silence.
Because both of them understood exactly what that meant.
The accident wasn't unavoidable.
It wasn't random.
It was preventable.
The realization settled heavily between them.
Unfortunately, that story wasn't unique.
Not even close.
"There were others."
The admission came reluctantly.
Because speaking them aloud made them real again.
"A kiln ventilation failure."
Another memory.
Another near disaster.
"Heat exhaustion incidents that should've been reported."
A pause.
"Equipment maintenance delays."
Another pause.
"Complaints that disappeared."
Each example seemed to darken Eli's expression further.
The younger man wasn't surprised anymore.
Only disappointed.
And somehow that looked worse.
For several moments, neither spoke.
The night breeze moved gently across the porch.
Carrying the scent of summer grass.
Mason suddenly felt tired.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Tired of remembering.
Tired of pretending.
Tired of accepting things because that was how they'd always been done.
Eventually Eli broke the silence.
"Why didn't anyone say something?"
The question hurt.
Because the answer was painfully simple.
Fear.
Not dramatic fear.
Practical fear.
The kind people carried every day.
"They needed jobs."
Mason looked over.
Workers depended on Blackthorn Brickworks.
Families depended on Blackthorn Brickworks.
Generations had built lives around it.
"When you've got kids."
A pause.
"A mortgage."
Another pause.
"You learn which battles can cost you everything."
The truth tasted bitter.
Because he understood it.
Had lived it.
Workers stayed quiet because silence felt safer.
Even when it wasn't.
Eli lowered his gaze.
The folder remained untouched in his lap.
For a long moment, the younger man said nothing.
Then—
"That's not right."
Three simple words.
Spoken softly.
Yet carrying remarkable conviction.
Mason stared at him.
At the determination settling behind those familiar eyes.
At the stubbornness he knew so well.
The same stubbornness that had challenged him from the beginning.
The same stubbornness that refused to accept easy answers.
A slow smile appeared.
Despite everything.
Despite the seriousness of the conversation.
Mason couldn't help it.
"What?"
Eli frowned.
"Why are you smiling?"
The answer came easily.
"Because you're impossible."
The younger man rolled his eyes.
Yet a small smile appeared anyway.
The sight eased some of the tension between them.
Only some.
The problem remained.
The evidence remained.
The truth remained.
Eventually Eli looked down at the folder again.
Then back at Mason.
"What happens if we ignore this?"
The question lingered.
Neither rushed to answer.
Because they already knew.
More complaints.
More missing reports.
More accidents.
Eventually something worse.
Something irreversible.
Mason looked toward the distant kilns.
The heart of Blackthorn Brickworks.
The place that had given him a career.
A home.
A second chance.
He loved the company.
Always would.
That was exactly why the truth mattered.
Because loving something didn't mean protecting its secrets.
It meant protecting its people.
The realization settled firmly into place.
For years, silence had felt easier.
Safer.
Now it felt like complicity.
Finally, Mason nodded.
Slowly.
Certain.
"The truth has to come out."
The words seemed to release something inside Eli.
Relief.
Determination.
Purpose.
All three.
The younger man nodded immediately.
As though he'd already reached the same conclusion.
Together they sat quietly for several moments.
The decision hanging between them.
Weighty.
Necessary.
Neither knew what would happen next.
Who was responsible.
How far the deception reached.
Or how many people would be affected.
They only knew one thing.
The truth deserved daylight.
No matter how uncomfortable it became.
No matter who disliked it.
No matter what it cost.
For the first time since discovering the missing records, Eli wasn't carrying the burden alone.
And for the first time in years, Mason wasn't willing to stay silent.
Side by side on the porch, they looked out across the dark fields beyond the house.
Toward the future.
Toward the fight waiting ahead.
And together, they chose to face it.
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