The Weathervane

Chapter I - The Men

I work as a bag boy, well rather bag girl, in a small town near the Canadian border in Montana.  My town is small enough that when you drive through if you blink, you will miss it.  One of the few buildings in town is a grocery store that, quite frankly, sells everything; food, clothing, household apparel, anything you need you can get there.  I work in the evenings, after my first job at the barbershop. 

It is around six, closing time, when two well-dressed men walk up to the cash register. 

One of the men asks, “Hey will you help us get all of this in our car, Jack?”  Turning I see that they are young.  The first has a cart filled with food; the taller, silent one has another two carts.  I sigh. 

Volunteering to help people with groceries is part of my job.  I want to tell them that they are grown up and can do it, but instead I clear my voice. 

“I would be happy to help.”  I say to the men.  Jack, my boss, is at the cash register smiles and mouths “thank you.”  Being older, he is the night manager and I know that it would hurt his pride if he had to do it.  The men are at the checkout line and I know that this will take a long time. 

I inform them, “Hey, I’ll be right back, I’m going to change, it looks like you two will be here a while;” and head to the back of the store, where the “employees only” sign is framed on two doors.  Entering the back room I go into the office where my locker is, getting all of my belongings, I drop my shop shirt and tie.  I change into my street clothes, drop my ugly non-slick shoes into my locker, and put on my Converse tennis shoes. 

I make it to the front of the store as the men are leaving with their carts of bagged and boxed purchases.  I say goodbye to my boss and tell him I clocked out and would leave as soon as I was done unloading the guy’s enormous carts. 

“Fine by me,” is all he says. 

I walk behind the two men wondering what they will do with all the food they have in their carts.  As I walk behind them, I notice things about them.  One has brown hair, he looks older, and I think I spot a few grey hairs at his temple.  He is wearing a blue suit; the material is nicer than any material I have ever seen.  The taller one has black curly hair; he seems younger and swaggers as he walks.  He is taller by a few inches, and looks more muscular under his suit.  His suit is black, but a dark, flat black, the material is again of the best material I have ever seen.  We arrive at the van and I stop right behind them.  The taller one opens the van doors. 

Turning and looking at me, he says, “Will you stack the items I give you?”

“Yes, of course, helping you is my job.”  I answer and climb into the back of the van.  He points to where he wants me to stack things. 

The shorter man hands things to the taller one, who passes them to me, I stack the items, heaviest on the bottom.  It must have taken a half an hour or so to load around half of the groceries into the van, stacking and securing them.  The shorter one suggests we take a small break.  He throws water bottles to his partner and me.  Walking to the front of the vehicle, he turns the van on and blasts the AC.  When he returns, he introduces himself as Peter; the taller one is Enoch.  I sit inside the back of the van, by one of the wheel wells.  As I drink my water, I listen to the chatter of the two, talking about hunting, fishing, and about storms that are supposed to be coming up.  I figured them for storm watchers.  They are probably going to stay in the mountains, probably for months since they bought so much food.  I think about it and hope they aren’t tree huggers, Enoch laughs at a joke and puts down his water bottle, Peter does the same and gets out of the van. 

“Let’s get finished, it is almost dark and we need to get out of town before dark to be on time.”  Enoch says and goes back to his spot getting ready for the next food item.