Dead Reckoning by Jacob Moon

Author:Jacob Moon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jacob Moon Publishing

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Mr. Olsen put the car in park, then sat for a moment behind the wheel, rubbing his temples. He’d woken with a sinus headache. The third time this week. Allergies, or so he presumed. Checking his pocket watch, he noted the time—4:55. A creature of habit, he waited another five minutes, then got out and climbed the three wooden stairs to the mill’s front porch. Unlocking the door, he pushed his way inside and, as he was accustomed to doing, left it open. He could see the entryway from his office desk, which is where he went now to switch on his desk lamp. Right away, he saw an object lying atop the desk that made him groan—a wrench. He’d used it the previous afternoon to turn the water off at the commode just in case a leak had occurred there during the night.

Titus. Mr. Olsen shook his head. The boy could be troublesome at times, but he was a damn fine worker. As Mr. Olsen grabbed the wrench and exited the office for the water closet, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the comment he’d made yesterday. His foreman, one of his own cousins, was lazy and ineffective. But family prevailed over business sometimes. Limping through the semi-darkness of the main floor (his leg was aching something fierce today), he glanced toward the recessed rear door. It sat in heavy shadow now, as usual this time of morning. Checking it was part of his morning security rituals, but the metal bar still appearing to be in place and his distraction with the commode both caused him to decide to skip it today.

At 5:57, after having turned the water to the commode back on and arranging the coming week’s shipment orders, he rose from his desk chair and went to the open front door. His crew would be arriving shortly. If he was lucky, they’d all get here on time. Several of his Negro workers had been over ten minutes late during the past week, even one of his white workers. He’d spoken to them all, warning them that any further unexcused tardiness would result in the loss of half a day’s pay.

Looking up toward the eastern sky that sat aglow in hues of blue and orange, his mind turned involuntarily back to a time eleven years ago, when he had looked up to a similar-looking sunrise. Instead of standing on the porch of his own mill, he had viewed that sunrise from a muddy trench somewhere in France. With the stench of human excrement and bloated corpses all around him, he had wondered not just if but when it would be his turn to die. That he should be standing here, alive, over a decade later, was nothing less than a miracle. Sighing, he checked his pocket watch and noted the time was now two minutes ‘til six.

Just then, he noticed a figure down the block, running toward the mill. As the figure neared, breaking out of the darkness, Mr.

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