June 26,2007 - Day 1
MFP Shuttle Bus to Pit Area
84° F
Cloudy, 11:53am
( writing bumpy )
I knew we were approaching the Pit, not because of the growing amount of people along the little desert road, but I could smell it in the air; iron, with a lot of Texas dust mixed in. It was subtle, and looking around at the people in the bus with me, probably too subtle for most to even notice.
Not me. I knew that smell.
A pit of it's own formed in my own stomach and I stared at my dirty hiking boots for the duration of the ride, bumping and jostling me and my travel mates around, as I fell into a very deep void of thought.
----
12:01 pm
We crossed the threshold at exactly noon; this organization had a thing for being on time. With such a large... responsibility, I could understand why.
Stepping down off the air conditioned bus with a few pushing past me impatiently, I finally took the time to marvel at the damn thing I'd heard so much about during a telephone briefing a few days before.
For one... it's huge.
When you look at photos of this Pit thing, you sort of go 'okay that's big' and dismiss it. That's because your brain is inherently programmed to fear things that large. So it just pretends it's fine, right? Out of sight, out of mind.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
But now it's not out of sight anymore. I still stood staring at it long past the bus doors hissing shut, the engine unheard as both the bus and tour group moved on without me in a kick of dust. Not that I was there for a tour anyway.
It looked... obscene. Like those photos of surgery you see in biology books. The orifice all stretched open, held apart with insanely large hydraulics and steel stents. Supposedly, the hydraulics were there to correct for 'natural organic shifting within the Pit', to keep all of the tourism and mining procedures shoved down the Pit's gullet working simultaneously. I just happened to be standing near a food stall that smelled like thick, fried calories, and I thought of the rumors that restaurants in the park were cooking Pit flesh.
The claims were denied, saying the meat was too tough and sinewy and gamey tasting. But staring at my suddenly pale reflection in the stall window gave away that I was not one hundred percent confident in those counterclaims.
The paleness wasn't the only visible sign that I was not ready for my first day on this job, as my hands trembled to hold onto my work backpack. "Fauna Researcher" the job description had said. I'd filled out the application diligently, sitting in my little den, listing my name (Damien, by the way), my age and birthdate (1989 got farther to scroll every year), and paused after listing my various previous jobs at local parks and lakes. Honestly, I wasn't expecting even a glance at my resume, much less than a call back the very next morning. But that was what I received, along with a deposit into my bank account for travel and moving expenses - I was coming from a very small town in Appalachia.
But I was now $5000 richer and being offered a ridiculous benefit and tenure package. Just to accompany tour groups and take notes 8 hours a day.
It seemed a little simple, like there was some hidden catch.
I guess the Pit was the catch. Even though I had been told... I wasn't ready. I had just taken the money and traveled, I didn't have anyone or anything tying me to that shitty trailer anyway. All of my family had been killed by an earthquake, on a vacation to--
The PA system crackled to life, a bright robotic voice instructing the next tour group to head towards the upper visitor center, to the next available gondola down.
Down.
I didn't enjoy that word.
For a moment, I couldn't even get my body to move. Even in the dry desert air, I felt a cold sweat creep a hand around my hairline. I looked again at my reflection, hair to my shoulders, dark and thick and probably against regulations. Stubble I probably should have shaved off this morning at the hotel. Deep amber eyes, begging me not to go.
My father's eyes--
But really... what did I have to lose?
My life?
This place was about to become my life, whether I liked it or not.