The Job

(This is based on the cover picture and the words, Friend, Money, and Car)

I didn't even know what kind of car I was waiting for.

Earl had a friend who knew someone who needed somebody to work. I'd been unemployed too long and the kids were bored with beans and rice. They'd pick me up here at seven for whatever work it was.

Earl said the pay was decent.

At ten after, a car pulled up. An old Chevy. I sighed. I had a better car than that. Still, theirs ran.

The guy in the passenger seat looked me over.

"You Dylan?"

"Yep."

"Get in."

In the backseat, man in a sport coat over an open-collar button up shirt held his hand up before I could ask anything. Music swelled. Classical. Beethoven's Ninth?

After it ended, the man said, "How are you at manual labor, friend?"

"I've sat on my butt recently, but I remember how."

"Good, because you're a ditch digger. Trench, really. Five foot wide, eight foot deep, and roughly eighty feet long. Squared sides. Alluvial soil. Plan to be back tomorrow."

"How big is the crew?"

"You."

"Tools?"

He smiled. "Gas-powered auger, a good-sized Troy-Bilt tiller, riding lawnmower with trailer, a wheelbarrow, shovels, and picks. There's plywood, lumber, and tarps to keep any weather out."

I whistled. "A small front-end loader would speed things up a lot."

"Boss said this is what we have, but I'll pass on your suggestion."

"Just me and that mish-mash of tools?"

"You got it."

"That'll take at least two weeks, probably more."

He nodded. "That's how I see it."

"And the pay?"

He pulled out a stack of new bills, held tight with a green paper strap. "One of these each day."

"Seriously? Two-dollar bills?"

"Two hundred dollars. When you finish the first twenty feet..." He displayed a wrap of tens. "Halfway," and he waved twenties. "When you finish," and fifties appeared, "and maybe a bonus beyond that."

My mind clicked. Nine-thousand dollars. A lot of money for the work, and in cash. Fishy.

"Your boss owns the land?"

"Oh yeah," he said. "Plans on moving out there before too long."

"What's the catch?" I mean, there had to be one.

"Catch?"

"Yeah. The money's too good. Day laborers could have it done in less than a week for a lot less money."

"Trust."

"Is that a fact."

"It is. Someone said you were an Eagle Scout. Trustworthy. Boss puts a lot of faith in that."

"And what am I supposed to do?"

"Never mention it. To anyone. Ever."

"If the cops ask me, I'll tell them."

"That's fine. They're not our concern."

I shrugged. "Money's good. Work's hard. I'll do it."

* * *

First day, I was beat. Second day was worse.

But the grocery store self-service checkouts took the twos with no question so we had food in the house.

Under the farmhouse was one endpoint...a small metal room. The same thing under the workshop at the other end. This was starting to make sense. Tunnel with safe rooms at each end. Maybe I could buy the need for trust.

Sport coat guy looked over my work. Still no names. "It's Friday, and you still haven't gotten to eight feet down."

"True. With what I'm working with, it's easier to take it off the level and ramp back up by the house," I replied. "You'll have to admit I've moved a lot of dirt."

"True, that," he agreed and tossed me a band of tens. "Not halfway yet, friend."

I thought it was a bit more than half, but I shrugged. "It's close."

He nodded. "Maybe you'll get there tomorrow."

"Wait a minute," I said. "I thought this was a Monday to Friday gig."

"Boss says you rest on Sunday. He wants you here tomorrow."

"I have—"

"Joshua, age seven, and Laura, age eleven. Mom's long gone. Bring them. Put them to work."

"If you're into herding cats," I replied, but nodded. Country air away from their tech would work.

I got the twenties on Saturday, and another stack of tens on Tuesday. I could get the car running now.

The lawn tractor and tarps helped me pull the dirt out. I was done by noon on Friday.

Sport coat guy was there, the other two off somewhere.

His smile was thin, but he nodded. "Just one small thing to finish up," he said and went into the workshop. It'd been locked before.

He came out, half-dragging a teenage girl with purple hair. A strip of duct tape covered her eyes, and another over her mouth. She was dirty and had wet herself.

He pushed her onto a tarp and tossed a pistol at my feet.

"She was snooping last night." His voice was tight. "There's a good bonus for you to finish this. A small trench and concrete will hide her forever."

I realized he'd walked behind me while he was saying this.

"Then you do it."

"Boss says it's your job."

"And if I don't?"

"You'll be lying next to her."

I picked up the gun, and thought about Josh and Laura. I spun, squeezing the trigger pulled as his shirt came center.

Click.

"Excellent," he said, smiling.

"Wha--?" I huffed.

"Thought you'd shoot her. Lost my bet with the boss." He walked over and cut the duct tape away from her arms.

"But...who..."

"Camille," he said. "My daughter. She's into theater. Wetting yourself was a good inspiration, Cammie."

She squealed as he pulled the duct tape off her lips, then snorted.

"You left me there all morning. No inspiration. Method acting sucks."

He laughed. "College fund, dear. Your acting made a big installment today."

"I'm changing," she said, and stalked back to the workshop.

"You get the bonus, and Boss wants to hire you fulltime."

"I...."

"Regular checks, mostly. Not usually surprises like this, and you'll work more in your areas of expertise. No digging ditches."

I nodded. This had been my hiring interview.

"Okay. Sounds good. Who's the boss?"

He grinned. "Not a clue, but he pays well."