2015-

Marcel Hobart checked the address from the ad against the building in front of him.

He looked up and down the street. He didn’t see anything else marked Lamplighters,

Inc. A lantern hanging over the door seemed to mock him with its blue flame.

It looked run down. Should he go inside, or should he just write this job off? He was

getting a weird vibe from the building. It was telling him to walk away.

Ordinarily Marcel listened to his inner voice. It had kept him from getting shot more

than a few times. He needed a job, and the ad said this place needed someone with his

skill set.

He put the ad in his pocket. He walked over. The place’s front had taken some kind

of beating in the past. He saw numerous scoring marks that reminded him of the

aftermath of explosions. Had someone attacked the place? Is that why someone with

his background was being considered?

He took a breath before opening the human-sized door. He looked inside. A pile of

trash stood in the middle of the open floor. He blinked at it. He had thought the place

was up and running.

He stepped inside. No one seemed to be around. Maybe he had come at the right time.

He checked his watch. He was a little early for his appointment. Maybe he should

write this off.

“Hello!,” he shouted to the empty room. “Is anyone here?”

A woman appeared at the top of a central spiral staircase. She frowned at him. Then

she smiled.

“Mr. Hobart?” She came down the staircase. “Come in. Please excuse the mess.

We’re trying to get back in fighting shape.”

“Your ad said you were looking for applicants.” Marcel walked deeper into the bay.

He saw that a mechanic’s tool shelves decorated the walls. “Have I come at a bad

time?”

“No, no.” She waved to a visitor’s seat in front of a desk at the back of the room.

“We’ve been shut down for a while, and we’re getting ready to start back up.”

“Okay.” Marcel sat down in the chair. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“I’ll be honest, Mr. Hobart.” She sat down on the other side of her desk. “You have

to pass two tests before I can even think about giving you the paperwork to fill out.

You have to test clean for drugs, and you have to pass our eye test.”

Marcel frowned. He expected a drug test. That part was in the ad. An eye test seemed

a little much to base hiring practices on.

“An eye test?” He had perfect vision as far as he knew. He should be able to pass an

eye test.

“A lot of our equipment will be keyed to your retinas.” She smiled. “If the scanner

can’t lock on to your eyes, it won’t turn anything on. That could be suicide in the

field.”

“I get that.” Marcel did get it. Your equipment failing and killing someone seemed

to be a perfect reason to check your employee’s eyeballs if you didn’t want to kill

him. “Is this job dangerous? I didn’t see any specifics in your ad.”

“It’s one of the most dangerous jobs in the world right now.” She smiled. It didn’t

ease his alarm at the words. “The owner of the business lost his three partners when

a job went bad. That’s what you’re signing up for if you can pass the tests.”

“Maybe I should bow out.” Marcel felt his warning agreeing with the words. “I didn’t

really expect any danger.”

“That’s understandable.” She nodded. “I’ll discard your application. It was nice to

meet you, Mr. Hobart.”

“I’m sorry for wasting your time.” Marcel stood up. “I just don’t want to get shot

again.”

“That’s understandable.” She stood. “Would you like a sandwich and some coffee for

your trouble?”

“A glass of water would be fine.” Marcel nodded. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” She walked up the staircase, pulling off her rubber gloves.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Marcel felt something with him. He looked around the room. He spotted picture

frames hidden behind a file cabinet. He walked over to look at them. He knew he

shouldn’t, but his curiosity was pulling him even as his warning was saying get out

as loud as it could.

“I thought you was a marine, boy.” A voice drifted out of the air as he started to look

at the pictures. “What a chicken.”

Marcel straightened. He didn’t know what irked him more: someone had caught him

snooping and he hadn’t heard them walking toward him, or being called a chicken by

someone who didn’t know him.

“I don’t see how that’s your business.” Marcel wondered why the guy was dressed

like a cowboy from a movie. All he needed was one of those long coats.

“Your daddy must be proud you turned out such a horrible example of a human

being.” The cowboy shifted his hat back on his head. “He must congratulate himself

every night on the job he done.”

“My father has nothing to do with this.” Marcel knew what was going on. This guy

was trying to make him change his mind by angering him and attacking his courage.

“Who do you think you are?”

“Milton Kearn, boy.” The cowboy smiled slightly. “It’s something I carry with pride

since I never had to run like a dog with its tail between its legs. Is that how you

survived when the rest of your squad died? You ran like the coward you are?”

“That’s not what remotely happened.” Marcel glared at his accuser.

“What happened, Corporal?” The cowboy crossed his arms. “How did you survive?”

“I can’t tell you that.” Marcel had signed a document ordering him not to talk about

what had happened that had led to him getting his purple heart.

“I’ll tell you then, Corporal Hobart.” The cowboy glared at him. “Corporal Hobart

and his squad was on a patrol. They walked into an ambush. Enemy fire raked them

before they could take cover. Corporal Hobart was shot twice while abandoning his

men to the enemy. At least they gave you a purple heart for getting shot in the back

when you broke.”

“That’s not what happened.” Marcel glared back. “I was leading the patrol. I was shot

when I turned to warn my guys about the ambush. I lucked out and fell into a culvert

and was overlooked while the massacre was going on. All my friends died. I managed

to crawl out of the area and was picked up by another patrol. All of this was

investigated. I was discharged because of my wounds.”

“Maybe you were discharged because it looked like you ran.” Kearn gestured with a

hand. “It wouldn’t be the first time they got rid of a suspected chicken.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t matter now.” Marcel felt his rage dissipating. “What matters

now is I don’t have a job, and I am running out of my savings.”

“This is a job for you, Corporal Hobart,” said Kearn. “Too bad you’re too much of

a yellowbelly to take it.”

“You’re not taunting me into changing my mind.” Hobart shook his head.

“Your pay will take care of your family.” Kearn shrugged. “If you get killed, your

children will be taken care of for the rest of their lives.”

“I don’t believe it.” Marcel crossed his arms. “Why should I believe you?”

“Cause I set up the funds to pay for deaths and injuries, boy.” Kearn sneered. “How

do you think the business is restarting? It’s because I prepared for a day when it had

to be set up if there was a catastrophic problem.”

“So if I take the job, I can support my family?,” said Marcel. “If I get killed, the

settlement will pay for my kids’ education?”

“If you’re man enough.” Kearn pulled his hat down over his eyes. “If you think you

can do better than me.”

“I can do better than you.” Marcel felt his warning telling him to back off. He ignored

it. No bigot was going to tell him he couldn’t do the job better. The gauntlet had hit

him in the face. He was ready to grab it and slap his accuser back.

“I would like to see you try, yellowbelly.” Kearn smiled, but it wasn’t a smile with

a lot of humor in it.

“Mr. Hobart?” The lady came down the stairs. A cup was in her hands. She looked

confused.

Marcel glanced at her. When he looked back at where Kearn stood, the cowboy was

gone. The man had gone as silently as he had arrived.

“Is it too late to change my mind?” Marcel knew that most people wouldn’t hire you

after you turned down the job. “Is the opening still open?”

“If you can pass the tests.” She handed him the cup. “I can do the eye test right now,

and then call for you to get your drug test at the lab we use.”

“I would like to do that.” Marcel sipped the water. He realized his mouth was dry

after the confrontation with Kearn. “Paperwork will be filed after I get the test back?”

“That’s right.” She smiled. “Why the second thoughts?”

“I have to think about my kids.” Marcel gestured at the picture frames. “What are you

going to do with those pictures?”

“I’m going to rehang them as soon as I get the place cleaned out.” She shook her

head. “Mark really let the place go after he shut things down.”

“Is it okay if I look at them?” Marcel felt his warning kick in. He shouldn’t look at

those pictures. He should wait.

“I don’t see why not.” She smiled. “It’ll give me a chance to make my lunch before

I give you the eye test.”

“Thanks.” Marcel frowned as he tried to remember the name of the voice on the

phone when he set up his appointment. “Miss Hillsmeirer?”

“No problem.” She smiled again. “If you pass, as soon as Mark gets back, we’ll get

you set up to train with the equipment to keep accidents down.”

Marcel nodded. He pushed the stack up so he could look at the first one in the row.

It was a newspaper clipping. He frowned as he read the headline. LAMPLIGHTERS

DIE SAVING THE CITY. The cowboy hat on the gurney being hauled away in the

picture looked too familiar to the applicant.

Marcel let the stack fall back in their original position as he thought about who he had

been talking to for the minute Miss Hillsmeirer had been upstairs.