Treadmill - 2
There was no answer on the other end of the line. At first I thought I had made a mistake, and flipped again through the phone book to the 'E' section. I tried everything I could think of. C Enfield. Charles Enfield. C & M Enfield. Each and every one out of service or a wrong number.
It was here that I started to have doubts about coming down South so quickly. I don't know if I ran away from the city because I can't stand seeing Laura's car any more, or if I really needed a change of scenery, but the fact is that I'm gone. I have a few million dollars to my name and absolutely nothing to do with it.
This could get ugly. I've never been good at handling money.
Another twenty minutes and I was on the road again, apparently heading towards town, or should I say, "town". There aren't many street signs down here, just plenty of open air and pavement. As I was walking down the road an older man in a beat up Chevy was nice enough to stop for me. All I could tell you about him was that his name was Brian and he'd lived in the area longer than I've been alive. I guess this Southern hospitality I'd heard so much about wasn't a myth at all, but it was too soon for me to be drawing such rash conclusions as to who I could trust. Just a few weeks before I read about this house in Tennessee that was raided; they found fourteen corpses buried behind this beat up old shed without fingers or teeth.
He was mostly silent for the ride, I take it that I wasn't the first stranger that he'd picked up on the side of the road. He must have had his apprehensions concerning my character as well. After all, I sounded like an outsider and I didn't know where I was going, but he promised to drop me off at a place to sleep for the night. I wasn't sure if he was going to bring me to his place or drop me off outside of some ratty motel, but I figured that I'm better off with a local than on my own.
To my surprise, my destination was nothing like I'd expected. We drove past a large group of barbed wire fences, through some industrial blocks, until we finally stopped at what looked like a long-abandoned building. My expectations walking in were bleak at best. I expected to see a group huddled around a flaming trash can, or a pack of rats three inches high, or at the very best an old manufacturing plant that looked like it could fall over at any second. But despite the rugged and disheveled exterior of the building, it seemed structurally sound when I walked inside.
The rafters seemed quiet, but it was still light out and there's no telling what sort of owl called this place home. Slowly lowering my gaze to eye-level I saw old elevator systems, heightened platforms and miscellaneous equipment that served God knows what purpose. Along the far wall there were some cots, and what looked like a bathroom area. It was here that the old man really opened up.
"Twenty years ago I used to manage this plant, you know." He said in a rustled tone, gazing around as if he was picturing the way things used to be back then. "We were a pretty successful tool making company, serviced all the department stores in the tri-county area for a while there. But those days are long gone." He motioned towards the cots and started babbling about how many workers would stay here at night and lots of other information I wasn't concerned with. I tried to be polite but I just couldn't listen to him go on any more. I needed sleep, I needed food, and I needed a plan. I had slept on the bus but this trip was seeming more and more stressful the more I thought about it. After a few minutes I guess he could tell I wasn't listening because he struck some metal on the ground and caused a racket.
"Now you can stay here a couple of days son," he started, "but there are some rules. First off, don't let nobody know you're here, this place hasn't been up to code for a while. Don't be using any of the equipment we got in the store room either, that stuff's dangerous you hear?" I nodded my head, wondering how long I'd have to keep these rules in mind for. "Now I can come pick you up tomorrow at 9 AM sharp to bring you somewhere else, get you some food, maybe even a job and you can start looking for somewhere real to live."
He turned to face the door and began a slow limp out of the factory. "One last thing," he turned to say, "whether or not you like this place or not you can't come back here much longer. This is a quick fix for now, I want you to forget about this factory after you leave tomorrow, you hear?"
Again I nodded, thankful that I would have some private time to set my priorities and establish a plan of action. "I'm lockin' you in here for the night," Brian shouted from the outside, "you don't wanna see what's out here after the sun goes down, and you sure as shit don't wanna be anywhere near it." Before I could raise my voice to protest, the door was shut and I heard the heavy latch come down from the other side.
The only thing that got me through that night were the words of good old FDR: "We have nothing to fear but fear itself", but I could only repeat the words, believing them would take a man made of steel.
It was here that I started to have doubts about coming down South so quickly. I don't know if I ran away from the city because I can't stand seeing Laura's car any more, or if I really needed a change of scenery, but the fact is that I'm gone. I have a few million dollars to my name and absolutely nothing to do with it.
This could get ugly. I've never been good at handling money.
Another twenty minutes and I was on the road again, apparently heading towards town, or should I say, "town". There aren't many street signs down here, just plenty of open air and pavement. As I was walking down the road an older man in a beat up Chevy was nice enough to stop for me. All I could tell you about him was that his name was Brian and he'd lived in the area longer than I've been alive. I guess this Southern hospitality I'd heard so much about wasn't a myth at all, but it was too soon for me to be drawing such rash conclusions as to who I could trust. Just a few weeks before I read about this house in Tennessee that was raided; they found fourteen corpses buried behind this beat up old shed without fingers or teeth.
He was mostly silent for the ride, I take it that I wasn't the first stranger that he'd picked up on the side of the road. He must have had his apprehensions concerning my character as well. After all, I sounded like an outsider and I didn't know where I was going, but he promised to drop me off at a place to sleep for the night. I wasn't sure if he was going to bring me to his place or drop me off outside of some ratty motel, but I figured that I'm better off with a local than on my own.
To my surprise, my destination was nothing like I'd expected. We drove past a large group of barbed wire fences, through some industrial blocks, until we finally stopped at what looked like a long-abandoned building. My expectations walking in were bleak at best. I expected to see a group huddled around a flaming trash can, or a pack of rats three inches high, or at the very best an old manufacturing plant that looked like it could fall over at any second. But despite the rugged and disheveled exterior of the building, it seemed structurally sound when I walked inside.
The rafters seemed quiet, but it was still light out and there's no telling what sort of owl called this place home. Slowly lowering my gaze to eye-level I saw old elevator systems, heightened platforms and miscellaneous equipment that served God knows what purpose. Along the far wall there were some cots, and what looked like a bathroom area. It was here that the old man really opened up.
"Twenty years ago I used to manage this plant, you know." He said in a rustled tone, gazing around as if he was picturing the way things used to be back then. "We were a pretty successful tool making company, serviced all the department stores in the tri-county area for a while there. But those days are long gone." He motioned towards the cots and started babbling about how many workers would stay here at night and lots of other information I wasn't concerned with. I tried to be polite but I just couldn't listen to him go on any more. I needed sleep, I needed food, and I needed a plan. I had slept on the bus but this trip was seeming more and more stressful the more I thought about it. After a few minutes I guess he could tell I wasn't listening because he struck some metal on the ground and caused a racket.
"Now you can stay here a couple of days son," he started, "but there are some rules. First off, don't let nobody know you're here, this place hasn't been up to code for a while. Don't be using any of the equipment we got in the store room either, that stuff's dangerous you hear?" I nodded my head, wondering how long I'd have to keep these rules in mind for. "Now I can come pick you up tomorrow at 9 AM sharp to bring you somewhere else, get you some food, maybe even a job and you can start looking for somewhere real to live."
He turned to face the door and began a slow limp out of the factory. "One last thing," he turned to say, "whether or not you like this place or not you can't come back here much longer. This is a quick fix for now, I want you to forget about this factory after you leave tomorrow, you hear?"
Again I nodded, thankful that I would have some private time to set my priorities and establish a plan of action. "I'm lockin' you in here for the night," Brian shouted from the outside, "you don't wanna see what's out here after the sun goes down, and you sure as shit don't wanna be anywhere near it." Before I could raise my voice to protest, the door was shut and I heard the heavy latch come down from the other side.
The only thing that got me through that night were the words of good old FDR: "We have nothing to fear but fear itself", but I could only repeat the words, believing them would take a man made of steel.
posted by Dylan at 5:39 PM
0 comments
