Escape by Chris Pike

Author:Chris Pike [Pike, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | EMP | Survival
Published: 2019-09-12T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

The old quarry site in central Texas was a huge scar on the once pristine land. Formerly a bustling operation, it had become an open pit ghost town. During the time it had been abandoned, the Earth slowly reclaimed what was rightfully hers. Trees began to populate the scar, with trees came birds, and with birds came seeds dropped by them. Native plants and grasses made a comeback, and the scar was slowly healing, in the process creating its own microenvironment.

Lizards sunned themselves on huge granite boulders, camouflaged by the black and pink specks of the hard rock. A natural depression among the dirt had collected rainwater, leading to a mini oasis in the mine. A rabbit hid in the prickly pear cactus, and a wren flitted from tree to tree.

Dug beneath the surface, the quarry’s success hinged partially on the fact the ground water table was below the deepest part of the mine. While other quarry sites were plagued with groundwater seeping into the pit, the Enchanted Rock quarry had none of those problems.

During the heyday of the quarry, noise and pollution had been a bane to the neighboring ranchers, and the surrounding land had at one time been covered in a thin layer of dust and rock. When the landowners, weary of the adverse effects on the land, petitioned the state to shut the operation down, they were met with heavy resistance and the ability of the quarry to hide behind legalities and corporate veils, a fact Lamar O’Rear was intimately aware of. Lamar got the idea for the quarry during a trip to a fenced in big game ranch where he was hunting the famed cape buffalo, and though he didn’t bag the animal, he found something better. He observed the numerous granite outcroppings, rendering a large part of the land unsuitable for farming or ranching. While Lamar didn’t give a flea’s ass about decorating, he recalled the amount of money his wife had paid for a granite kitchen countertop. At the time, the economy was on fire, remodeling companies were springing up like weeds, and thus the idea was born. He dangled a fair price in front of the owner of the granite wasteland, who snickered behind Lamar’s back, thinking he had pulled a fast one.

The landowner didn’t pull anything, other than angering neighboring landowners.

Lamar had seen an opportunity and seized it, and was clever enough to bury his name under multiple layers of legal paperwork, making it nearly impossible for the remaining landowners to link him to the quarry.

During its heyday, massive trucks carried huge slabs of granite to processing centers to keep up with the demand for countertops in new kitchens.

Lamar had paid the workers a pittance for the back-breaking and dangerous work. When they threatened to walk out, Lamar had said adios. Everyone was replaceable.

After the EMP and the near collapse of the nation, Lamar had ceased all operations, and though he was the legal owner, he hadn’t seen the quarry in seventeen years.

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