07 ASAP

Another storm is brewing

07

ASAP

 

It had been hot for days, Black Hollow hadn’t seen rain since the storm last Saturday, 6 days ago. It was 1620 in the afternoon and things were wrapping up at the logging site. The loading team had just finished trimming and loading the last lot of trees on the flatbed, and the fall team had just about packed up their chainsaws and other equipment. Jack walked over to one of the black open back trucks where Rusty had been snoozing in the afternoon sun, barley stirring at the boom of falling trees. He scruffed him on the head and Rusty rose.

“Home time Bud” Jack told him. Rusty lazily hopped out of the back of the truck, gave a long wide yawn and followed Jack closely.

The wind picked up. First the rustling of branches and ground debris moving around, and soon the trees were gently swaying.

The teams piled into 2 off-roaders and started making their way to the village. Something had unsettled Rusty, he wasn’t panicking, but he was obviously alert and very gently whining.

 

“Logging team from Dispatch, Logging team?”

“Go for Logging team, Dispatch”

“Logging team, be advised we have a large storm approaching quickly from the North, if you aren’t already, you’re going to want to be moving back to base ASAP”

“10-4 Dispatch we are currently 10-8 back to the village, ETA 20 minutes”

“10-4, Dispatch out”

 

The wind continued to rise on the journey back, Rusty still whimpering and fidgeting in Jack’s lap. About 5 minutes away from the village they came to an opening, and the loggers could see through the trees to the North. Dispatch wasn’t lying, that was one hell of a storm moving in. The sky above them was clear and deep blue, not far away a light grey overcast had settled in, and beyond that was the thick, black fog that was barreling in. Swelling, twisting, rolling, flashing in the distance. It looked like they had no more than 30 minutes to pack the gear out of the off-roaders and into the base station, and get to the bar for Friday night drinks.

 

The crew had barley got their tools and themselves inside the station when the first flash threatened the village. Eric was standing at the window looking out, standing in his light blue jeans, plaid red and black shirt and orange work boots; stubble and dirt covered the early 40-year-old face.

“Dry storm” he said in his husky voice, with no further comment.

Jack, who had been changing his shoes, walked to the front door of the station and opened it inviting in a gust of wind. He looked at the perimeter of the village, and beyond the trees he could see bright flashes coming from all directions with no more than 10 second pauses in between. He didn’t need to look through the trees now to see the blackness swallowing the blue.

“Would have been nice for some rain to tame the dust.” Luke exclaimed from behind Jack who continued to change into his normal shoes.

 

******

 

The bar was full that evening, brimming with conversation and old country tunes. Friday night was always the same; celebration that this week was over, and the next week wouldn’t start for another 2 days. Despite the noise in the bar, it was still clear there was a storm outside. The windows turned bright blue, highlighting how dirty they were with every flash, the wind was knocking outside debris around, every time the door opened it would crash violently shut.

 

Jack and Luke, 4 or 5 drinks in, were sitting at the bar. “Hope Rusty is okay and not tearing the s**t out of my couch right now”

“I hear ya, Billy was all worked up when I stopped at home to let him out, he’s not reacted to storms before that one we had last week”

“Yup, same with Rusty, well, you saw how he was all up tight on the drive back to the village…”

 

“JACK!!!”

Author's Note

subject to change, work in progress