Chapter 28: All Night Long
Brightly had itself a party. All day, the meat of two entire moose had been slowly roasting in a pair of large pits. Carved into individual roasts, the meat had been carefully wrapped with spices, garlic, local herbs and edible fungi. The slow steady heat penetrated the sealed packs of meaty goodness, causing them to baste in their own juices. Juices which leached out of the meat to merge with the flavourings and then becoming reabsorbed, bringing the new flavours back in with them.
As the packages came out from their fiery resting place, each one was split open with care. Wonderful, mouth-watering smells spread across the grounds of the local school, the only field large enough to hold everyone coming for the feast. While the mass of the town began to die of starvation and mass salivation, the mayor got up on a set of bleachers to make a speech.
“Okay folks, I know we’re all hungry,” Montcalm said, his own stomach giving a rumble that the microphone caught and broadcast, getting a laugh from the waiting throng. “But I think it would be wrong of us not to thank Manager Shaushka of BC Hydro and her crews for getting the lights back on. Thank you, for taking time away from your homes and families to help us.”
“Just doing our job, Mr. Mayor,” Shaushka said, smoothly giving the corporate line. “That’s what we do, bringing power to the people. I have to say though, it’s nice to get a ‘thank you’ like this. My people tend to miss a lot of home-cooked meals, and the smells are making me wish we have to come back here… a lot.” There was general laughter as Shaushka stepped back from the mike.
“Okay, with that said, just one more thing,” Montcalm said, slipping back in front of the mike as the crowd groaned in desperate hunger while they watched tables being piled high with side dishes of all sorts. “Please make an orderly line for the buffet when I’m done. The Hydro crews get first dibs and dinner will go until six. Afterwards we’ll clear out some space for some music, dancing and the beer garden to go up. Okay, let’s eat!”
With that, the crowd attacked the fortress of food with all the vigour of a starving wolf going for a caribou. There weren’t that many people in the combined Hydro crews, and as such serving them first wasn’t much of an imposition on others. Shaushka had just taken her first mouthful of mashed potatoes covered in gravy when her satellite phone went off.
“Shaushka here,” the tech turned manager said into the device as the steam from her plate tickled her nose. “This had better be good, I just sat down to eat.”
“And hello to you too,” the cool voice of Tara Sahota said, “I’ve been going over your report about the Carmanah Dam and I thought you would like to know what the Capital Infrastructure group has decided in light of your findings. I report directly to them now.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Shaushka said, instinctively standing up. The CIG was a full seven levels of bureaucracy above her, and reported directly to the Board itself. Sahota had used the Brightly crisis to launch herself to near the top of the corporate ladder.
“That’s better,” Sahota said, and there was a smugness in her voice. “Refurbishing the Carmanah Dam is going to be a major infrastructure project, and as such it’s going to require an onsite team.”
“Okay, I can see that,” Shaushka said, wondering why Sahota felt the need to tell her. All Shaushka wanted to do was go back home to Vancouver and get back to her old routine.
“Well, as it turns out there already happens to be a manager at the Carmanah Dam, along with a crew of power engineers and power linemen,” Sahota said, and a horrible light went on inside Shaushka’s head.
“You don’t mean?” Shaushka asked, dreading the answer.
“Yes. With my recommendation, you’ve been named Operations Manager, Carmanah Dam,” Sahota said, unable to see the horror on Shauska’s face. “Welcome to the big leagues.”
“The big leagues in the back end of beyond,” Shaushka said, meal forgotten now. “This is what I get for listening to you? Exile and a dead-ended career?”
“In case you haven’t forgotten,” Sahota said, steel replacing smug in her voice, “I’m the reason why you haven’t been fired and blacklisted from the industry, ending said career. I can still make that happen. Is that what you want?”
“No Ma’am,” Shaushka said, gritting her teeth. “Do I at least get to come back and get my stuff?”
“I’m afraid not,” Sahota said, her voice pleasant again but retaining a hard edge. “CIG needs you in place immediately. You’ll get a stipend for a hotel room until you can find a place, and I’ll have Corporate Services pack up your belongings and get them shipped to you. Don’t forget, you’re also getting a substantial bump in pay, as well.”
“Yes Ma’am,” Shaushka said, sighing in defeat and looking around at what was to be her place of exile.
“Good girl,” Sahota said, smug again. "The CIG will be in touch with you tomorrow. Good night.” The phone clicked with the sound of a closed connection
Shaushka just stared at the device for a long moment, and then began to curse under her breath. The quiet tirade went on for more than a couple of minutes as the new Operations Manager worked through her English vocabulary, followed by Scots, then her mother’s native Welsh and her father’s Gaelic. As she was finishing off her low volume diatribe she felt someone nudge her elbow. She spun in place to see the lean form of the ‘NW reporter that had been hanging out at the dam.
“Hey, good food these folks put out, eh?” Wilcox asked, striking up a conversation.
“I’m not in the mood right now,” Shaushka said, face working as she tried to control her emotions.
“You want to talk?” Wilcox asked, holding up a hand. “Off the record. You look like you could use a friend right now.”
“Don’t give me that,” Shaushka said, walking toward the school parking lot. “You’ve probably been aching for a chance to get me alone for an interview.”
“Guilty as charged,” Wilcox said, working a bit to keep up with Shaushka’s long legs. “But some things are more important than a story, like being a human being. Like I said, off the record.”
“Strewth, I could use a pint of something decent,” Shaushka said, spotting her truck.
“I’ve got some at my camp,” Wilcox said, a wry smile on his face. “It might not be Guinness, but it is cold.”
“God save me from cold beer,” Shaushka said, remembering the fight that she’d started over how “proper” beer should be served in one of Burnaby’s rougher bars. “Fine. We can pick up the beers at your camp and drink in my new office.”
After dinner, the local children had been sent home and it was time for the adults to play. A small sound system played a variety of music, and after a brief hesitation couples began to filter into a square area that had been cleared of tables. Not long after, a slight murmur stole through the crowd as a dark haired, heavy set man led a lean, long haired woman into the dancing area.
“I think we’ve been noticed,” Jean said, looking up to see a soft smile on Arnold’s face. “The old biddies will have a field day.”
“Let them,” Arnold said, moving the light weight in his arms with surety and strength. “I let a lot of time go to waste, and I’m not going to let some old chinwaggers slow me down now.”
“I’m glad,” Jean said, moving as her partner guided her through the motions of a basic waltz step. “You’ve mourned long enough. You deserve to be happy again, and while I was happy just being your friend and neighbor, I’m glad we can try being something more. And since when did you know how to dance?”
“There’s lots of things you don’t know about me,” Arnold said, swinging Jean around in the pattern of motion he knew well. “I’ve got layers on layers, and I’m looking forward to revealing them to you, one at a time.”
“Is that so, Mr. Kye,” Jean said, with a throaty chuckle. “I should mention that Billy and the girls are over at the Hardings tonight.”
“Oh really?” Arnold asked, the corners of his mouth rising in a smile. “Some private time away from the kids, eh? Well, I hope Ernie and Lynn are ready for ponies in the morning.”
“Why?” Jean asked, slowing down and leaning in against the big man, feeling the controlled power lying just under the surface of his skin. “Wait, it was cloudy today wasn’t it?”
“Yup,” Arnold said, smelling the scent of flowers in Jean’s hair. “If Ernie’s right, tomorrow we get to hear the pitter patter of little hooves.”
“Have I mentioned how cute you looked as my own little black stallion?” Jean asked, teasing.
“Not as elegant as you did as a snow white unicorn,” Arnold said, teasing right back. “All you needed was a little tiara and you would have made a perfect little pony princess.”
“Ha!” Jean laughed, throwing her head back. “That long flowing mane of yours. I could have spent all day braiding it and weaving some ribbon in and out.”
“Oh really?” Arnold asked, stepping away from Jean and holding out his elbow. “I think we need to continue this discussion in a more private setting. What do you say, Mrs. Pedersen?”
“Delighted, Mr. Kye,” Jean said, slipping her arm through his elbow, and together the two walked out of the dancing square, watched by more than one smiling face.
Two hours later things were starting to wind down and Senior Powerline Technician Kielops looked around a little sadly as people began to put things away. He worked hard, sometimes putting in 18 hour shifts during emergencies, but it was good, solid, respectable work that people could rely on. Working that hard made him burn calories by the truckload, which is why a party like this was so welcome.
He’d been eating since the buffet started and drinking free beer since the beer garden opened. When he had tried to pay for his beers he had been told his money wasn’t good in town, which wasn’t a problem for him. What was a problem was that this fine meal had come to an end. With a sigh, he pushed away from the remnants of his food and walked over to the closing beer garden with a gait far steadier than it should have been.
“Hey, any chance of getting one of those to go?” Tim asked, pointing to a six pack sitting in a cool bath.
“For one of you guys?” said the fellow, closing down the beer garden. “No problem. Take two. It will save me having to load them back into the truck.”
“Thanks!” Tim exclaimed, gratefully accepting the drinks. “You guys really know how to make folks feel welcome.”
“We try,” said the man, smiling. “Have yourself a good night now.”
Tim smiled and began to head to the parking lot, looking for his truck. A staggered step while trying to step around someone made him realize that while he might not be inebriated by his standards, he definitely was not fit to drive right then. He went around to the back side of the school while he pondered his options.
He could drive anyway, but if he got caught, or worse got into an accident, it could cost him his job. He liked his job too much to risk it just for an easy drive back to the bunkhouses. Tim leaned against the wall while he thought, cracking open and drinking a beer to help his thinking processes. It took a second beer before his brain swam up to catch hold of an idea.
There was an old gravel service road that ran around the south side of the town. He’d driven along it a few times over the past couple of days. If soggy memory served, the far end of it came out pretty close to the bunkhouses. It was almost a tailor made walking highway. All he had to do was get on it and start walking. As long as he kept to the gravel he couldn’t get lost. It was perfect.
Pushing himself off the wall of the school, Tim “Tummy” Kielops made his way across the back side of the school grounds toward the gravel road. As his feet crunched their first few steps on gravel he couldn’t help but say, “I am such a genius.”
Brian Cummins was not a merry man as he entered his hotel room. Apparently the word was out, and no one was willing to talk to him, about anything. Plus, as near as he could tell, Trudeau Senior had never been within a hundred miles of Brightly. Either the locals were hiding their scheme of kickbacks and influence peddling way better than they should have, or he was wrong.
He sat down on his bed and turned on the light with a sigh. It was time to admit he’d made a mistake and stop wasting both time and effort on a lead turned sour. He hated being wrong, passionately. The desire, that need of his, to get things right was one of the things that made him a good reporter. The problem was that every news instinct he had screamed at him that the identity of “Seeker” was important. That there was something earth shaking hiding behind that name, just waiting to be revealed.
The questions haunted him, even though he was almost certain this was one of those times he just wasn't going to find the answers. It was clear it was time to put "Seeker," and the hows and whys around her onto the back burner, much as he hated to do so. He dug through his bag to find an old friend of his. A portable and expensive radio frequency scanner. Sometimes, when sleep eluded him back home, he would fire it up and just listen to the pulse of the city through the various radio transmissions. It was something that always seemed to comfort him.
Plugging it in to charge and putting on the Bluetooth earpiece, he was surprised to hear nothing but silence at first. Cursing, he remembered where he was. Brightly was far, far away from the lights and sounds of the Lower Mainland. He was just about to disconnect everything and put it away, when a transmission from a passing jetliner crackled in his ear. Content, he switched off his light and leaned back in his bed to listen.
Tim had been walking for what felt like hours, and he was down to his last couple of beers. He hadn’t remembered there being a rise to the old road, and he wasn’t really sure when the last time he had heard gravel was, but he knew that as long as he kept walking he would be just fine. He kept thinking that, right up to the point where he tripped over something and went hurtling down a slope.
Over and over the power lineman tumbled, as he fell down a steep incline, crashing through thickets, brambles and the occasional fresh sapling. Luckily, Tim’s well lubricated condition allowed his body to soak up most of the impacts, that and the heavy lineman’s coat he habitually wore protected his skin. Nothing however, could have protected him from the impact with the wide tree trunk near the bottom of the hill, which sent him into sudden unconsciousness.
Yes, I know I promised action this chapter, but life intervened in a big way and when I hit this natural break point in the chapter I decided to pause things here instead of going longer and making you all wait even more for the chapter.
As some of you may know I have a more than full time job now (50+ hrs per week) which cuts into my writing time rather severely. Brightly and Mail Troubles have become my flagship stories so for the next few months at least I'll be alternating between the two in my writing.
This should net you a couple of Brightly chapters a month, I hope.
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huh, I wonder why?
Sounds delicious!
Lights out in Brightly, it seems.
9300263
I went to a wedding in the BC interior once where that was the food for the bridal feast. It was awesome.
To quotwe Splinter from the first TMNT movie,
"Out. Coooold."
Airplane, injured person, cloudy night. welp I see what's coming. lets see if I am right.
9300251
The man seems to have learned an important lesson: In small communities, word spreads fast, and you don't want to be labelled 'that guy' because the entire community will rally against you.
Remember kids if your to drunk to drive walk home
9300276
I bet
9300558
Too bad this guy was too drunk to walk home as well, ack.
9301111
at least he had fun
Is Luna still diggy digging her whole?
It’s good to hear you’re back on your feet, Penalt. I think I see where the stories going from here, it’s a great setup!
9317947
Why, my good man, These are the very best clichés! Certainly a classic way to open a story such as this.
9318063
Everyone here has the usual mundane flesh tones, if that's what you're asking...
9318074
ah ok
nice story!（Chinese Brony）