| General Fiction posted December 17, 2021 | Chapters: |
...5 6 -7- 8... 
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Lee can't keep up.
A chapter in the book Concertina
Too much pressure.
by Yardier
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
| Background Lee Morason is a Vietnam veteran with the aftereffects of combat clouding his view of life. He avoids the symptoms and denies he is heading to a psychological and spiritual break down. |
The sudden sharp sound of hundreds of pounds of steel casing released prematurely from the grinder's table caused Chris to look at the grinders with alarm. Lee and other grinders knew the casings had been released too soon and stepped back before losing a finger or having a hand crushed. Each grinder knew something unexpected happened and looked toward Chris for an explanation. Chris shrugged his shoulders and pointed his thumb at Jesse standing with his hand on the control valve.
Lee leaned forward to grind the next casing and muttered, "Asshole."
"Jesse, don't… I'm telling you…." Chris tried to step between Jesse and the hydraulic controls.
Jesse turned on Chris with fire in his eyes. "NO, I'm telling YOU… get in the hole and pick up a grinder. I'll handle the controls!"
Chris stepped back, knowing that this would be his last day on the job one way or the other. He knew if a hydraulic line burst in the grinder pit with all the sparks flying in the air and smoldering on the floor, the shop would go up in flames and probably kill some of the grinders in the process. So instead of heading to the grinders pit, Chris backed carefully away from Jesse to the diesel engine already straining under Jesse's dangerous new demand.
Before Lee could grind rust and grime from the casing in front of him, Jesse increased hydraulic pressure, causing another well-casing to shoot into place. Lee looked up at Jesse and saw a sneer on his face as he made a circular motion with his finger for Lee to pick up the pace. More disturbingly, though, was what he couldn't see, Chris. He knew Chris was a pothead but a conscientious pothead who never failed to do his work and wouldn't disappear to smoke a fatty.
Concerned, Lee tried to put the thought out of his head. Chris had gone AWOL, and Jesse's sneer had something to do with it. He tried to keep up with the increased flow of well-casings but could not burnish them to his satisfaction. Lee knew Jesse was trying to bust his balls, but he would not let that happen. He was going to beat Jesse at his own game, even if it meant sloppy work. But with each additional well-casing loading faster and faster, Lee's head began to swim as his forearm muscles tightened and knotted. His mouth became dry, and he was no longer sweating. His legs felt weak, and it became hard for him to think and control the grinder.
Before he knew it, two well-casings stacked up in front of him, but he was unable to comprehend the danger.
Jesse saw it, though, and took advantage of Lee's confusion and opened the main valve to ninety percent with the intent to release a third well-casing down on Lee's log jam and force Lee into permanent unemployment.
Once out of Jesse's sight, Chris hurried his pace to the diesel engine. Approaching the struggling engine, he saw hydraulic lines sweating and bulging at the unions and couplings. He knew it was a matter of seconds before they would fail.
Dehydrated and unsteady on his feet, Lee, in a mental fog, let the grinder slip from his grip to the floor. Then, as it spun off like a whirling dervish, he reached over in a semi-conscious trance and tried to adjust the two well-casings with his hands.
Just as Chris sprinted to the diesel engine and pulled the emergency shut-off lever, he heard the unmistakable sharp report of a hydraulic line failure, and a man scream in harmony with the high-pitched shrieking of the hydraulic line losing pressure. Fearful one of the grinders had been injured, Chris ran toward the grinder pit but stopped in his tracks to see Jesse writhing on the ground in a pool of hot hydraulic oil. Stunned at the sight of pressure-gauge glass embedded in Jesse's face, Chris hesitated as the whole grinder operation came to an abrupt stop. Jesse's screams caused some of the men to bolt outside into the brightness of the storage yard. Others dropped their grinders and looked at each other, wondering what to do.
Chris knelt beside Jesse and yelled at the gaggle of confused grinders, "Someone get on the boss's phone; Jesse's hurt bad!"
The youngest of the grinders, Trevor, dashed past Lee up the stairs to Claude's office, kicked the door in, and was met with a cold blast from the air conditioner. Overwhelmed with the temperature difference, he hesitated before grabbing the phone and dialing the operator. He sputtered, "There's a man… our foreman… he's hurt… he needs help."
As shock set in, Jesse's screams became less shrill and panicked but still came across as an unnatural wailing sounding like an injured cat. But to Lee, it sounded more like an infant, a baby's cry. Confused, Lee turned slowly from the grinding table and walked stiff legged toward the storage yard where other grinders had gathered nervously in the sun. As he approached them, a large shadow passed over his head and then another shadow and another. He stopped and looked up without shielding his eyes. His arms limp at his side, Lee swayed in the breezeless sun and saw a menacing group of turkey vultures circling overhead as the baby's cry in his head became clear. He turned and looked toward the rusty chain-link fence surrounding the storage yard and saw a tall dust devil swirling slowly toward the yard. He cocked his head and tried to focus on the location of the baby's cry. He was sure it wasn't coming from his head as the other voices had earlier. Instead, it seemed as if it came from the vicinity of the dust devil but, adding to his confusion was how the dust devil had effortlessly separated into two dust devils dancing around each other as they approached the chain-link fence.
Lee watched with detached interest as empty beer cans, paper, and tumbleweeds skittering at the base of the swirling dust devils came to a rest against the chain-link fence. As the dust devils passed through the rusty fence into the storage yard, the baby's cries became more distressed. Like a drunk man, Lee half walked, half stumbled past the group of grinders toward the two dust devils as the faint sound of an ambulance siren could be heard growing louder in the distance.
"Lee… what are you doing?" Fritz asked.
Lee thought he heard the baby call his name.
Fritz stepped toward Lee. "LEE… what are you doing… are you alright?"
Ignoring Fritz, Lee continued past old rusted and twisted pipe casings toward the dust devils and the sound of his name. He stumbled over massive, rusted truck axle housings with exposed chipped and broken gears and struggled through ancient derrick cables that snagged and pulled at his feet.
He stopped for a moment when the sound of the approaching ambulance siren comingled with the weakening cry of the baby. He stepped toward the dust devils cautiously when he heard the voice of a woman. "Lee, we need you."
The voice had a strong Vietnamese accent.
As if in a dream, Lee watched with drowsy curiosity as the two dust devils once more became one, then slowly dissipated into the bright blue sky, leaving an aged Vietnamese woman behind. Dressed in ragged black pajamas and wearing a weathered straw hat, she struggled to walk upright as she clutched the arm of an emaciated and whimpering infant hanging at her side.
Alarmed and alert, Lee bolted toward her and cried out, "Annie!"
He was shocked when he wrapped his arms around her, and she pressed her flat breasts against him and let the child drop at his feet.
"Oh, God… Annie, let me help you!"
Lee tried to look down at the infant, but the woman forced her dry, cracked lips over his mouth with passionate kisses.
Startled, he felt the infant's small hand tug at the cuff of his work pants, then reach up with its tiny fingers and pull on his sock.
Terrified he would step on the child, he glanced down at his feet to see the baby convulsing and covered with dozens of scorpions making their way along the baby's arm and up his pant leg.
The woman grabbed Lee's head with both hands and forced him to look into her liquid black eyes as she slipped her tongue down his throat. Gagging at the stench coming from the slime of her mouth, he tried to push her away, but her black serpentine tongue slid down his throat toward his heart where it began to squeeze his racing heartbeat into a faint murmur. Unable to breathe, Lee grabbed his chest and tried to cry out but couldn't. Slowly, his mind faded to black as he staggered, then fell unconscious on his back, staring open-eyed at the broiling sun as if dead.
"Help me get him in the shade!" Fritz ran past the stunned grinders and grabbed Lee by the ankles and dragged him unceremoniously to the shade of a nearby rusting tanker truck before anyone could move. "Get some water," Fritz barked at the laborers.
Lee leaned forward to grind the next casing and muttered, "Asshole."
"Jesse, don't… I'm telling you…." Chris tried to step between Jesse and the hydraulic controls.
Jesse turned on Chris with fire in his eyes. "NO, I'm telling YOU… get in the hole and pick up a grinder. I'll handle the controls!"
Chris stepped back, knowing that this would be his last day on the job one way or the other. He knew if a hydraulic line burst in the grinder pit with all the sparks flying in the air and smoldering on the floor, the shop would go up in flames and probably kill some of the grinders in the process. So instead of heading to the grinders pit, Chris backed carefully away from Jesse to the diesel engine already straining under Jesse's dangerous new demand.
Before Lee could grind rust and grime from the casing in front of him, Jesse increased hydraulic pressure, causing another well-casing to shoot into place. Lee looked up at Jesse and saw a sneer on his face as he made a circular motion with his finger for Lee to pick up the pace. More disturbingly, though, was what he couldn't see, Chris. He knew Chris was a pothead but a conscientious pothead who never failed to do his work and wouldn't disappear to smoke a fatty.
Concerned, Lee tried to put the thought out of his head. Chris had gone AWOL, and Jesse's sneer had something to do with it. He tried to keep up with the increased flow of well-casings but could not burnish them to his satisfaction. Lee knew Jesse was trying to bust his balls, but he would not let that happen. He was going to beat Jesse at his own game, even if it meant sloppy work. But with each additional well-casing loading faster and faster, Lee's head began to swim as his forearm muscles tightened and knotted. His mouth became dry, and he was no longer sweating. His legs felt weak, and it became hard for him to think and control the grinder.
Before he knew it, two well-casings stacked up in front of him, but he was unable to comprehend the danger.
Jesse saw it, though, and took advantage of Lee's confusion and opened the main valve to ninety percent with the intent to release a third well-casing down on Lee's log jam and force Lee into permanent unemployment.
Once out of Jesse's sight, Chris hurried his pace to the diesel engine. Approaching the struggling engine, he saw hydraulic lines sweating and bulging at the unions and couplings. He knew it was a matter of seconds before they would fail.
Dehydrated and unsteady on his feet, Lee, in a mental fog, let the grinder slip from his grip to the floor. Then, as it spun off like a whirling dervish, he reached over in a semi-conscious trance and tried to adjust the two well-casings with his hands.
Just as Chris sprinted to the diesel engine and pulled the emergency shut-off lever, he heard the unmistakable sharp report of a hydraulic line failure, and a man scream in harmony with the high-pitched shrieking of the hydraulic line losing pressure. Fearful one of the grinders had been injured, Chris ran toward the grinder pit but stopped in his tracks to see Jesse writhing on the ground in a pool of hot hydraulic oil. Stunned at the sight of pressure-gauge glass embedded in Jesse's face, Chris hesitated as the whole grinder operation came to an abrupt stop. Jesse's screams caused some of the men to bolt outside into the brightness of the storage yard. Others dropped their grinders and looked at each other, wondering what to do.
Chris knelt beside Jesse and yelled at the gaggle of confused grinders, "Someone get on the boss's phone; Jesse's hurt bad!"
The youngest of the grinders, Trevor, dashed past Lee up the stairs to Claude's office, kicked the door in, and was met with a cold blast from the air conditioner. Overwhelmed with the temperature difference, he hesitated before grabbing the phone and dialing the operator. He sputtered, "There's a man… our foreman… he's hurt… he needs help."
As shock set in, Jesse's screams became less shrill and panicked but still came across as an unnatural wailing sounding like an injured cat. But to Lee, it sounded more like an infant, a baby's cry. Confused, Lee turned slowly from the grinding table and walked stiff legged toward the storage yard where other grinders had gathered nervously in the sun. As he approached them, a large shadow passed over his head and then another shadow and another. He stopped and looked up without shielding his eyes. His arms limp at his side, Lee swayed in the breezeless sun and saw a menacing group of turkey vultures circling overhead as the baby's cry in his head became clear. He turned and looked toward the rusty chain-link fence surrounding the storage yard and saw a tall dust devil swirling slowly toward the yard. He cocked his head and tried to focus on the location of the baby's cry. He was sure it wasn't coming from his head as the other voices had earlier. Instead, it seemed as if it came from the vicinity of the dust devil but, adding to his confusion was how the dust devil had effortlessly separated into two dust devils dancing around each other as they approached the chain-link fence.
Lee watched with detached interest as empty beer cans, paper, and tumbleweeds skittering at the base of the swirling dust devils came to a rest against the chain-link fence. As the dust devils passed through the rusty fence into the storage yard, the baby's cries became more distressed. Like a drunk man, Lee half walked, half stumbled past the group of grinders toward the two dust devils as the faint sound of an ambulance siren could be heard growing louder in the distance.
"Lee… what are you doing?" Fritz asked.
Lee thought he heard the baby call his name.
Fritz stepped toward Lee. "LEE… what are you doing… are you alright?"
Ignoring Fritz, Lee continued past old rusted and twisted pipe casings toward the dust devils and the sound of his name. He stumbled over massive, rusted truck axle housings with exposed chipped and broken gears and struggled through ancient derrick cables that snagged and pulled at his feet.
He stopped for a moment when the sound of the approaching ambulance siren comingled with the weakening cry of the baby. He stepped toward the dust devils cautiously when he heard the voice of a woman. "Lee, we need you."
The voice had a strong Vietnamese accent.
As if in a dream, Lee watched with drowsy curiosity as the two dust devils once more became one, then slowly dissipated into the bright blue sky, leaving an aged Vietnamese woman behind. Dressed in ragged black pajamas and wearing a weathered straw hat, she struggled to walk upright as she clutched the arm of an emaciated and whimpering infant hanging at her side.
Alarmed and alert, Lee bolted toward her and cried out, "Annie!"
He was shocked when he wrapped his arms around her, and she pressed her flat breasts against him and let the child drop at his feet.
"Oh, God… Annie, let me help you!"
Lee tried to look down at the infant, but the woman forced her dry, cracked lips over his mouth with passionate kisses.
Startled, he felt the infant's small hand tug at the cuff of his work pants, then reach up with its tiny fingers and pull on his sock.
Terrified he would step on the child, he glanced down at his feet to see the baby convulsing and covered with dozens of scorpions making their way along the baby's arm and up his pant leg.
The woman grabbed Lee's head with both hands and forced him to look into her liquid black eyes as she slipped her tongue down his throat. Gagging at the stench coming from the slime of her mouth, he tried to push her away, but her black serpentine tongue slid down his throat toward his heart where it began to squeeze his racing heartbeat into a faint murmur. Unable to breathe, Lee grabbed his chest and tried to cry out but couldn't. Slowly, his mind faded to black as he staggered, then fell unconscious on his back, staring open-eyed at the broiling sun as if dead.
"Help me get him in the shade!" Fritz ran past the stunned grinders and grabbed Lee by the ankles and dragged him unceremoniously to the shade of a nearby rusting tanker truck before anyone could move. "Get some water," Fritz barked at the laborers.
~~~~
The title Concertina refers to razor wire used to secure a combat perimeter. It is also used on prison walls. It is designed with barbs and razor type hooks intended to snag a person from entering or attempting to escape a secure area.
Concertina, in the context of this novella refers to psychological and spiritual entanglement. Specifically, it refers to a Vietnam combat veteran who is ensnared by the deepest and darkest fetters of torment and denial. Those fetters consist of alcohol abuse, guilt, and resentment.
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one point
and 2 member cents. Concertina, in the context of this novella refers to psychological and spiritual entanglement. Specifically, it refers to a Vietnam combat veteran who is ensnared by the deepest and darkest fetters of torment and denial. Those fetters consist of alcohol abuse, guilt, and resentment.
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