Steve Martenson
The shift had ended and the pressure vessels whistled their soft song. This was the second batch of the day and it was almost done. The evening shift would take over and allow the fluid to boil off and condense to its final product. Steve was closing his thermos when his supervisor walked in. He looked over the recordings and was ready to sign off for the day when he looked again. He noticed that the recordings for the last two hours were similar. Very similar. He checked back a few days earlier and noticed the same pattern. He looked at Steve, “If you're going to falsify the reports at least make it believable.” He shook his head. To himself he decided to do nothing. It’s not like much could happen, the fires were dying down hours ago and the remaining heat couldn’t hurt the pressure vessel, but really. All you have to do is watch the damn thing and take readings every 30 minutes. What was so hard about that. Tomorrow he would make sure he was around at, end of shift. The heat may not be an issue, but this alcohol was important for disinfectants and when done right, fuel.
Steve heard his supervisor and turned his back. What was he going to do, fire him. Only a few people knew the recipe for vodka and he was one of them. This vodka wasn’t like the type that you drank, it’s more like moonshine. Drink too much and it could kill you. No this was only good for cleaning and disinfecting the hospital. But if you kept distilling it, then. Oh then you had something. Something you could trade for the things you couldn’t afford. Steve packed his thermos away. It was from before the fall and it was strong. All stainless steel and kept things hot or cold for a long time. Right now he was trying to keep what he had hot.
Matt from swings came into the control room and that was Steve’s que to leave. He pointed to the still, she’s cooling down. About four hours and then flush and reset.
Matt waved him off, “We know the drill.”
Steve looked at Matt, “Please do a double flush. We are starting something new tomorrow.”
Matt looked back, “Something interesting?”
“No. We’re just using potatoes and they like to absorb any flavors that are left behind.” Steve informed him.
“Who cares, it’s just rubbing alcohol.” Matt looked confused.
“Just give it a good cleaning.” Steve asked as he looked at the supervisor.
The Supervisor looked back at Matt.
Matt conceded, “Okay, we’ll scrub her down good.”
Steve arrived home and went to his shed which protruded out of the side of a hill. Inside was another door at the rear. Through that was a large room hollowed out from the hill. There were large beams and a wooden roof that held up the soil with the exception of the center of the room. There was a large shaft that started at the floor and went through the roof. The bottom of the shaft had a grill that you could feel cold air coming through. At the ceiling were more grates. These were harvesting the warm air and allowing them to escape . On the Right wall, were tables and racks full of bottles. On the left were four small stills. Each with the small burner beneath. The gentle bubbling and dripping sounds came from all but one. Above each still rose a large copper coil. At the end of each coil was a small valve and spigot that emptied into a bottle.
Out from a side room came a young man, “what-da you got.”
Steve pulled out his thermos, “Just one.”
“We got orders to fill, you’re gona have to do better than this.” said the young man.
“Damn it Blake, I’m doing the best that I can. If they catch me I’m done.” Steve protested.
“And if we don’t”
Steve cut him off, “What! They’re going to report us!”
“No, but I don’t want my family hurt. And these guys. You keep tellin me that they like hurting people.” Blake said.
“I know. Shit I wish we never got into this.” Steve handed the thermos over to Blake. He poured the contents into the last still and set the burner.
“We will have a full shipment by the end of the week. Please let them know that it can’t be done any faster than that. I’m not going to be responsible for what happens if we hurry this up.” Blake complained.
Steve took his thermos back and then left. As he closed and locked the door he smiled. As long as Blake thinks his family is in danger, he’ll keep working as fast as he can. That was enough to keep them both well fed and even have enough to build something bigger as soon as he could afford to move away from this stink hole. It seemed that there was no end to the need for spirits and he was willing to provide them as long as it didn’t get him exiled. Well at least not yet. In a few years they could move into Old Tacoma and set up a real shop. There they wouldn’t be subject to the Council. They could do as they please and get the whole area drunk if they wanted. But for now they stay in hiding.
Steve went up to the house and walked in. His wife and three daughters were working on a quilt in the front room. This was so Norman Rockwell, the fact that it was 2022 was lost as there were candles in stands that lit the room. Electricity was a luxury and had not been strung out this far yet. Oh the cables were there, but they had not been reconnected to the current power source. And according to the council it should be here by spring of next year. They had been doing fine adjusting to this new reality. Wood burning stove for cooking and heating. Candles for light. They did have a generator, but that was for emergencies. And they still had flashlights with some batteries. Again for times when candles didn’t make sense or couldn’t be used. Steve walked over and kissed Kate and then hugged his daughters. Life was really good, hard, but not bad.
He looked at the fireplace where a small fire was burning. The wood storage door was open and he could see that it was not topped off. He looked at his oldest daughter, “Meg, did you do all your chores today?”
Meg did not meet his gaze. Then slowly put down her needle and got up. There was no use in arguing that it’s a boy’s job to haul wood. In this house there was only one male and he worked ten hours a day. WIth that handled Steven went back to the kitchen to eat his dinner that was set on the table every night at 7:30 pm. He ate in silence. After dinner he went up to his room. There was a small fire in this fireplace as well. He added a log from the full rack beside the fireplace and sat in his favorite chair and started reading a book. His life was good….
The next morning he got up just before dawn and went out to the coop. Fed the chickens and cleaned their water dish. He then checked the Shed and by 5:30 am he was back in the kitchen. Breakfast was at the table. He ate alone and then gathered his lunch and thermos. His thermos was heavier than normal. “What’s this?” he asked Kate.
“Oh, I made you some soup for lunch.” She replied.
“Soup?” Steve quickly opened the Thermos and it was full of some oily soup with onion bits floating at the top. “Why did you put soup in my thermos!” He yelled. “You stupid woman. Those flavors will never come out!” He berated her as he poured out the contents into the sink. He grabbed the kettle from the stove without a hot pad and instantly regretted it. Dropping the kettle he yelled more. “You damn stupid bitch. You don’t put anything but hot water in my Thermos.” Turning he swung at Kate and hit her upside her head. She went down.
“I’m sorry.” she sobbed, crumbling on the floor.
“God damn woman. What the hell were you thinking?” Steve continued to yell. “Oh, that’s right I’m the only one that has a brain around here. Constantly having to remind everyone what they have to do.”
Grabbing a hot pad, Steve poured hot water into the thermos and washed it out. Thinking just how he was going to get the flavors of that oily mess out. And she had to use onions. Damn things leave a flavor for months. Steve was fuming and slamming things around the kitchen. He would have to get another thermos if he couldn’t get this one clean enough. He then berated himself for not grabbing more when they had emptied the container with thousands of these things. But who knew then that he was going to use them to create bootleg liquor. Steve was so busy with trying to clean his thermos he didn’t realize Kate had crawled out of the kitchen.
Once he had done all he could he looked around. He realized Kate had left. He yelled to the house, “Don’t you ever put anything but hot water in my Thermos!” He grabbed his coat. “And if every chore is not done when I get home…” Then under his breath, “Useless bitches.” And stormed out of the house.
As Steve went out the front door he noticed two men at the end of this drive that was overground by the lack of maintenance and use. They were security men, well one man and a woman. They looked at Steve and waved. Indicating that they were just passing by and wanted to let him know that they were on the job. Their morning patrols usually came through earlier, but today they were later than normal. Steve waved back and then started down the side path to his neighbors farm. The old farmer had houses. He had struck a deal, a ride to work for two bottles of whiskey every month. It was a good deal as he didn’t have to take care of a messy horse and he didn’t have to walk the four miles to the distillery.
Steve was still upset by the thermos issue, but stuffed it down. All was good. Everything was going to be good. He thought about who else had a thermos and if he could swap his out for theirs, but then he didn’t know what they might have put in theirs. He then thought that he could go down to the commons and rummage through the piles to see if there were any more thermoses he could grab, but that was another two miles away. There was no way he could do that on his lunch time and it would be too late to do it after work. He cures himself for promising so much liquor by the end of the month. If he didn’t have a way to bring home more, he would fall short. And that wouldn’t go over well. He swore under his breath, “Why did I have to marry such a stupid woman.”
Making it to Carl’s farm Steve put a smile on his face and walked into the barn. Carl was standing by his horse, but the saddle was not on him.
“Carl?” Steve said.
“Mornin Steve.” Carl said in his slow drawl.
“What’s with Pete?” Steve asked, afraid of what might be wrong now.
“Petes pulled up lame.” Carl said. “Need a furrier to put a new show on him.”
“Do you have another?” Steve asked frantic.
“Nope.” was all Carl said.
“How the Hell am I going to get to work?” Steve was getting angry.
“You’re goina haf ta hoof it on your own.” Carl said.
Steve didn’t argue. That was one thing you didn’t do with Carl. He liked the whiskey but didn’t need it. Steve needed the horse more and knew it. Steve thought about getting a lift in one of the freight wagons, “How about a lift then?”
“Freighters left over an hour ago.” Carl said.
“Well…. Why didn’t.” Steve was frustrated.
“I didn know. Jus came out to put your saddle on and found him lame. Sorry.” Carl said slowly. He knew his neighbor was upset, but what could he do? You just don’t have extra these days. Just enough was the only way to keep things going. Carl turned to Steve, “You should get a move-on.”
After Steve left the barn Carl turned to Pete and said, “I don’t much care for that man, but his whiskey is damn good and those concoctions can disinfect jus about anything.” he patted the horse, “Come on ol boy, let’s get you back in your stall.”
Steve walked out of the barn and looked around. He had no way of telling his boss that he was going to be late. No, thermos to steal the alcohol in and he was going to be hot and sweaty all day at work. “Great!” he yelled to no one. “Just great.” He mumbled and started walking.
Book 2 is call Graham Heights and starts here: "We Gotta Go"
No comments:
Post a Comment