The only sounds made during the drive were the sounds of the old truck's failing suspension. Rolling greenish brown landscape went zooming past them. The welder didn't say a word, but occasionally looked at Wyland with a deeply disturbing look, a look from bloodshot eyes that said "murder is always an option, so shut the fuck up." It was, needless to say, an uncomfortable drive.
They arrived at the quarry around midday. The entrance was a large chain link electric fence gate, with a small guard outpost. The whole area was fenced off with high chain link fencing. The guard gestured to stop, and sauntered slowly up to the old truck. He held his right hand at his hip, just above where a gun should be. There was no gun, however. He looked at the welder and smiled.
"Ol' Blue! De hell yeh doin' heah?" the guard asked, all friendly-like. Ol' Blue, which was apparently his name, didn't say a word, but cocked his head at Wyland and darted his eyes in Wyland's general direction. The guard squinted and looked through the open window at Wyland. Another uncomfortable silence. Wyland was getting sick of these uncomfortable silences.
Finally, Ol' Blue said "Yankee feckin' dandee heah needs teh talk teh Ollie n' Crommy. It's impehtant."
The guard continued squinting at Wyland, then looked at Ol' Blue. "You gonna escort 'im, then, Blue? "s'all above board, yeah?" Wyland didn't notice, but Ol' Blue winked at the guard before he nodded, and looked at Wyland. . "Yeah, don' worry, any feckin' trouble, I'll break 'is feckin' neck." Wyland could feel himself sweating, and was instinctively pawing the taser in his pocket, but he managed to smile at the guard and nod sheepishly. The guard laughed, obviously at the thought of Blue breaking Wyland's neck. In response, Ol' Blue gave a booming laugh that wiped the weak smile right off Wyland's face. Another uncomfortable silence as they looked at Wyland. The guard then said "they're prolly at central point 'ight now."
The guard pulled a clicker out of his pocket and the gate opened. Ol' Blue dropped it in gear and nodded to the guard as the old truck rumbled and squeaked through the entrance. The guard stared back with a concerned look, and in the rear view, Wyland saw him pull out his radio and talk into it.
They drove past massive piles of stone, and equally massive earth movers, all painted yellow and green. After about a mile of dirt road and dirt piles, the scene opened up to reveal a large open pit with dirt road spiraling down the sides. The rock walls of the quarry were a mottled greenish black with grey and white stripes. It was beautiful rock, and Wyland saw at once why there was a quarry here.
As this was running through his mind, the truck slowed down, and finally stopped. Ahead of them, a small town of mobile homes sat on a hill overlooking the quarry pit. Ol' Blue sighed, and looked at Wyland. "Well, I bettah search ya, now, hadn't I? Get teh feck outta teh truck."
Wyland stepped out, but his hands were in his pockets. The taser was warm against his skin, because he had been squeezing it and fondling it the whole trip here. It was his only protection, but it felt so weak, so light, and so cheap in his hand. It felt like a useless piece of plastic, and it would now be found and taken from him. He thumbed the on/off switch, contemplating shocking the shit out of Ol' Blue, but decided against it.
Blue stepped up behind him, after walking the long way around the truck. He said "get ya feckin' hands up." So Wyland did so, without releasing the taser. It was small enough that it could have been his wallet that he now held aloft in his left hand. The thug searched him, feeling for a hidden firearm at his sides, chest and ankles. His hands moved down and back up, quickly patted his wallet, worked around his belt line, and moved up his chest. He finally gave Wyland a sharp clip on the chin with his fist (a Scottish reach-around?), and said, "Good 'nuff. S'go."
Wyland quickly shoved the taser back in his pocket, incredulous that the idiot didn't look at his hands during that whole little uncomfortable episode.
They walked up across the rutted dirt road to a long double wide trailer. Several signs hung from the sides of the building. A large one over the door said "Central Point" and another said
"Offices------>".
They walked into Central point.
The place smelled of whiskey sweat and cheap coffee. There was a trail of muddy footprints that went from the door, to the bathroom in the back, and another that went right to a small bank of coffee makers sitting on a table. Cheap couches littered the area, and an old formica table sat by a window slatted with cheap plastic blinds. A vending machine held cheap, nutrition-less food in colorful bags.
A group of miners were standing around in a loose circle by the table and window, laughing hard at what was surely some tasteless joke. As the door clunked shut, the laughter died, and heads turned towards the new additions to Central Point.
"Blue, yeh ol' fecker!" yelled a man as large as Blue, but redheaded as a viking, as he walked over and clapped Blue on the back. "Hey, Red. How'rya doin'?" was Blue's relatively muted response.
Red looked at Wyland with a big, dangerous grin. "Gotta new bitch, have'ya, Blue? Aren'tcha gonna introduce us?" The boys all laughed at this, but then they noticed Blue wasn't laughing, and the laughter quieted down. "This pansy gotta date wit' Crommy n' Ollie. Where dey at?"
Red's expression changed from grin to scowl, and he turned to one of the men "Greenie, get teh boys!" The men shuffled out of their circle, and it felt like the air in the room got just a bit cooler.
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