Chapter 7 - The Gathering in the Dark
By Thursday morning, the blizzard had passed, leaving Red Haven buried beneath eight inches of pristine, blinding snow.
The factory smoke stacks, which had billowed heavy black clouds into the sky every morning for fifty years, were completely cold and silent. The main gates were chained shut, and the heavy iron wheels of the industrial transport trucks sat frozen in the gravel lot.
Inside the union hall three blocks down from the plant gate, the atmosphere was thick with gray tobacco smoke and the sharp smell of stale coffee.
Two hundred workers filled the wooden folding chairs. Pipefitters, welders, machinists, and crane operators sat in silence, their heavy coats draped over their shoulders, staring at the empty stage at the front of the room.
Jonah Pike stood near the coffee urn, his face lined with deep exhaustion. He hadn't slept in thirty-six hours.
The heavy front doors of the union hall opened, letting in a swirl of freezing air.
Miles walked in, carrying his heavy canvas tool bag over his shoulder.
The moment his steel-toed boots stepped onto the floorboards, the low hum of conversation in the room died down completely. Two hundred pairs of eyes turned to watch the Lead Metrologist walk down the central aisle.
Bobby, the older welder whose bonus had been two hundred and forty dollars, stood up from his chair.
"Miles," Bobby said, his voice raspy and rough from thirty years of breathing arc fumes. "Pendelton was down at the diner an hour ago. He said Winthrop Capital is preparing to file for emergency bankruptcy protection by tomorrow afternoon if the Apex deal collapses."
Miles set his tool bag down on a wooden table near the stage. "I heard."
Jonah walked over, setting a paper cup of black coffee down in front of Miles. "The suits from Apex are still at the hotel in town, Miles. Harrison Vance told the local paper that Apex has thirty million dollars earmarked for immediate plant modernization if the deal goes through. New CMM machines, new heating units for the shop, three-year contract guarantees for every man in this room."
Jonah leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, painful whisper.
"The guys are scared, Miles," Jonah confessed, his eyes searching his friend's face. "Half these boys don't have enough savings to last three weeks if the gates stay locked. They know why you walked out. They know what she did to you with that four-cent check. Nobody blames you for standing up. But... Jesus, Miles... if the plant dies, this town dies with it."
Miles looked around the crowded room.
He saw the weathered faces of men he had known since he was a twenty-five-year-old apprentice. He saw young kids with wives and newborn babies back home, sitting quietly on their metal chairs, holding their thermos cups with white knuckles.
Miles reached into his shirt pocket. He pulled out his father's old wind-up watch and laid it flat on the wooden table beside his coffee cup.
"Is Celeste still at the plant?" Miles asked.
"She hasn't left her second-floor office since last night," Jonah said. "Pendelton said she's been trying to hire an outside certified inspector from Cleveland, but nobody can get through the mountain pass because of the storm. And even if they could, nobody has the federal Mark-IX security clearance except you."
Miles took a slow sip of his coffee. He looked up at the ceiling of the old union hall, listening to the quiet rustle of two hundred men waiting for his answer.
"Jonah," Miles said quietly.
"Yeah, Miles?"
"Call Harrison Vance at the hotel."
Jonah blinked, his eyes widening. "What do I tell him?"
May you like
Miles picked up his canvas tool bag and lifted it back onto his shoulder.
"Tell him the Lead Metrologist will be in the QA lab at two o'clock," Miles said. "And tell him to bring his checkbook... but not for Red Haven."
