Hi everyone,
I’m turning my story The Night Shift into its own novella. I thought I would share the first chapter. Let me know what you think!
1
Welcome to Welch Mill
“Have you ever seen a man die?” Carl said, a rugged faced man with skin darker than the coffee he was drinking. His eyes were bulging, veiny like he had forgotten what sleep felt like.
“On the rigs,” Tom said, touching the cuffs of his moth bitten suit jacket. “He was a friend of mine. It’s the reason I left. Made me think about the dangers of being out on the sea.” Tom leant back in his chair, the smell of saltwater tingling his nostrils, then the smell of the extra strong coffee permeating the small office.
“I see,” Carl said in his rasping voice. The interview had been going on for just over fifteen minutes, and neither man had said very much at all. Long stares, like Carl, were trying to weigh Tom up, figure him out. See what he was made of. “You ever done security work before Mr. Mackenzie?” Tom shook his head.
“No,” he said, a little too quickly. “But,” he rebuked, remembering he couldn’t afford to fuck up the job opportunity. He had medical bills to pay. “But it can’t be that hard, can it?” Again, Tom slapped himself mentally, digging himself an even bigger hole he was trying to claw out of. Carl leaned back and layered those tobacco-stained fingers within each other. His suit jacket was clean, crisp, tailored even.
“It’s okay,” Carl smiled, his missing teeth pushing through those dry lips like missing tombstones in a graveyard. “Most people say that. The work is easy yes, but the solitude is something you have to be wary of. It’s not something to be snuffed at. Long nights alone can play tricks on a man’s mind. You’re the fifth person I have interviewed for this position in the last six months.” Tom raised a brow.
“Why so many?” Carl held his stare. Something was lingering behind those bulging eyes, like a poker player not wanting to let it slip after going all in. But what cards was he holding? Was it a single three or a full house? Tom shook away the feeling of ice creeping under his skin. “I’ll be okay. I’m used to being on my own. I’m not scared of the dark.” He laughed, but the jovial tone fell dead. Carl’s eyes stayed unmoved and his lips remained pursed together.
“I asked you if you have ever seen someone die,” Carl said with a heavy tone. Tom again felt the cold return. The touch of the arctic wind on his face carried the screams of a drowning man. He pulled open a drawer and took out some paperwork. “We have spoken to your last employer, Atlantic Oil LTD. They say you had a drinking problem on the rig?”
“I don’t know what that has to do with anything?” Tom said, leaning back once more, his hands folding together.
“Is it still a problem?” Carl inquired. Tom’s face contorted; his lips tight behind his bushy beard.
“I haven’t touched a drop in just under a year.” Carl nodded.
“The reason I bring it up Mr. Mackenzie,” Carl leaned forward, clearing his throat. “The Night,” he said, “The shadows. They can bring things from your mind back to life. Have you ever spoken to a professional about what happened on the rig?” Tom scrunched his face like biting into a rotten apple.
“With all due respect sir, that’s none of your business.”
“My apologies” Carl rasped, leaning back into his chair again. “The reason I ask is we have had past workers fall under great stress whilst on the shifts. We are a long way from another town and is very solitary. Now you’ll be starting this job in the darkest part of the year, not to mention the coldest. I just need to know you’re up for the task.”
“I can handle it,” Tom said. Carl smirked again, that toothy grin peering at him. “What do you mean great stress?” Tom asked, more thinking out loud than expecting a real answer. Carl shifted in his seat.
“They have reported strange goings-on. I don’t believe in any of it of course, but then again, you are the fifth person I have interviewed for this position in a few months. The last employee was found by the morning cleaner with his hand down to his elbow in the mail sorter. He died en route to the hospital.” Tom’s eyes widened.
“He lose his fuckin keys or something?” Carl laughed quietly.
“Perhaps.” Tom let the story fade from his mind. This was obviously some kind of practical joke they play. He had worked on an oil rig where all people did was scare each other and play jokes on each other all the time. It was the boredom. Play games or go crazy.
Or drink. And drink a lot.
“I’m just making sure your welfare is in check,” Carl said.
“Thanks,” Tom sighed. “But I’ll be fine.” Carl nodded and took out some paperwork.
“I don’t mean to scare you.”
“You can’t scare me.” A thick silence fell between the men then. The ticking clock in the corner of the room irking Tom’s patience. The large window from the main office next to him was showing lots of cars leaving the parking lot of the warehouse of the Welch Mill Delivery Company. The sun lazily dipped behind the forest that encroached across the road. The streets were going to be busy soon, and he didn’t have time to listen to ghost stories. “Sorry to be rude,” Tom said, shifting in his chair. “But I have somewhere to be soon. Somewhere important. Have I got the job or not?” Carl took another long drink of his coffee. He checked the clock behind Tom and checked the long shadows creeping from the woods onto the asphalt. He stood, stretching out like a stiff piece of wood and moved to the window. The sun painted the sky pink and red, bleeding into each other as the daylight died. Carl stood silently for a few moments, touching his face and running his hand through his short greying hair. He mustn’t have been much older than Tom, maybe mid-fifties, but his face was aged. Deep wrinkles on his neck and cheeks. Finally, at the end of Tom’s patience, Carl moved to his desk and took out a small bundle of papers with a pen and pushed them to Tom who began filling them out roughly, signing where the little paper arrows told him to. He handed the paperwork back to him and they shook hands.
“You start tomorrow night,” Carl said. Tom nodded a slight smile and began putting on his coat over the faded suit jacket. Carl thumbed the paperwork, a faraway look in his eyes. He took one last look at Tom as he went for the door like he was saying farewell to a man heading off to war. A man whose memory would haunt his dreams forever.