The factory lights shone brightly as John drove into the industrial area. He could see their glow up ahead. He was dishevelled and tired. The journey back from Jackson had thankfully been uneventful, but with not having a windscreen in the truck, it had been miserable, and his food had run out two days ago. The nectar had only lasted the first night on his journey back, and since he had been pining for a drink.
As he approached, the one working headlight of the truck bounced unevenly in its loose frame, causing it to flicker. The guard at the factory gate saw the vehicle and turned one of the spotlights in his direction. John scrunched his eyes together at the bright brilliance of the bulb. He screamed out of the window at the guard. “Turn that fucking light away from me.”
The guard, suddenly recognising the voice of John, did as had been instructed. John slowly pulled the truck up to the front of the compound across from Monty’s house and climbed out of the truck. He had never been happier to be back at the Factory. Stretching off and hearing his back crack as he did, he sighed in relief. ‘Thank fuck’, he thought.
The lights over at Monty’s were out apart from the one by the entrance, and a couple of the vehicles appeared missing. John looked over at the guard at the gate. “I am guessing Monty is not home.”
“No, he has gone into town. Another regional leader was coming for a meeting,” the guard replied. He looked John up and down, “You look like a shit, boss.”
“I fucking know.” John answered, snarling at the guard.
“What the fuck has happened and where is Kristoff?”
“I will tell all in a while. The first thing is I need a fucking hot bath, clean clothes, food and some fucking nectar.”
John grabbed his pack from the truck and entered the factory site, walking straight to his office and accommodation. He had never felt happier to be back home. Opening the door, he walked in, dropped his bag on the floor, and immediately went to his drawer, where he kept his nectar. Pulling a bottle out, immediately popping the lid, and downing it greedily. ‘Ahh, that is better.’ He thought.
He could hear noises outside, and several guards had come out of the barracks to find out what was happening. John returned to the door, opened it, and looked at the small gathering. The guards turned, staring at his dishevelled and unkempt state. John was never the tidiest of men, but his appearance was substantially different. He had a scraggly, unkempt beard and dark rings around his eyes from the lack of sleep over the past few weeks.
“Can one of you shits go and draw a bath for me?” he asked, smiling at the group.
“Sure Boss.” A reply came from the crowd, and Mike stepped forward before heading over to the guards’ ablutions.
“Once I am cleaned up, I will fill you all in on what has happened.” John said, turning and closing the door again. He walked over to his lockers and routed through, grabbing a thick, heavy towel before trudging over to the ablution block. He also carried a couple of bottles of nectar with him. On entering the ablutions, the steam from the hot water the wood boiler was heating was filling the block. Mike was busy attaching the pipe from the tank to one of the bath cubicles. Once he had connected it, he released the valve, allowing the hot water to begin filling the bathtub.
“Thanks, leave it running,” John said.
“Sure, Boss,” Mike replied as he turned to leave.
John walked into the cubicle, stripping off and throwing his filthy clothes into a corner. Steam was rising from the tub, and John gingerly stepped in, allowing his body to adjust to the hot temperature before he eventually climbed in full, slowly lowering his body into the hot steaming water. The burning sensation all over his body gave a pleasant relief, and he just lay there for several minutes drinking the two bottles of nectar, not even attempting to move, allowing himself to soak. He eventually grabbed one of the bars of soap from the side and began scrubbing every inch of his body. Finally, after what seemed like an age, he was happy that he was clean again and climbed out of the tub. He walked over to a basin and wiped the steam from the mirror's surface, looking at his reflection for the first time in weeks.
‘I look old.’ He thought. The dark rings under his eyes and unshaven face added to the scene before him. He grabbed a shaving knife from a rack and began the clumsy process of removing his unruly stubble. After a few minutes, he was a little happier with his appearance and scrubbed the remaining soap from his face. Wrapping the towel around himself, he picked up his discarded clothes, turned the feeder pipe off, and walked back outside, heading back to his room. The cold air bit at his now freshened skin.
Even though it was dark out, the message that John was back had gone around the guardhouse, and the lights were on inside. John returned to his room, throwing the clothes he had been wearing on the floor outside. He then entered and went to get dressed. He pulled on clean clothes and realised for the first time that his trousers were much looser than they used to be. Looking down at his figure, he realised that he must have lost significant weight while on the road.
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There was a knock on the door.
“Yeah,” John called.
Mike entered and opened the door, peering in. “Hey, Boss. The guys are wondering what has happened. You looked terrible when you arrived back.”
“You don’t know half of it. Get the men in the bunkhouse, and I will update everyone.” John answered.
He took one last look at himself in the mirror, now looking semi-respectable and pulled his boots on before grabbing another nectar and leaving his room to head to the guard block. John walked inside, and the chatter subsided as they all turned to look at John. He walked in, grabbing a chair from the side of one of the bunks and pulling it into the centre of the room. The men were all sitting around on the edges of their bunks, looking at him, waiting for the story, so John began.
He told them everything that had happened, to sounds and gasps of surprise as parts of the story unfolded. He elaborated on certain elements to make himself out to be the brave leader he was but kept the details as they unfolded. He explained Kristoff’s unfortunate demise to the sniper and the different Wild Ones they had encountered, finishing with him leaving Jackson due to the Grylack. Several men asked questions, but no one questioned the story's truth.
Several of the guards looked upset to hear about Kristoff. He had been well-liked among the guards, who promised to celebrate him at Jack’s the following evening.
John was offered several nectars while there and gladly polished them off. He eventually started to feel the tiredness of the journey set in and left the guards to their conversations, returning to his room. Walking in, he pulled his boots off before collapsing onto his bed. His bed had never felt so comfortable, and it was not long before he had fallen into his first safe night’s sleep in a long time.
There was a rapping on his door. John stirred from his sleep, opening his eyes and seeing daylight through the window. The skies were still grey, but it must have been nearly midday. He had slept solidly the whole night.
“What is it?” he called out.
“Monty wants to see you, Boss.” Came the reply.
“Ok, tell him I will be over in five,” John said, sitting up and stretching. He pulled his boots on, grabbed a new jacket from his locker, and left the building, making his way over to Monty’s house. Rain had just started to fall again as he reached the steps to Monty’s. He walked up and nodded at the old boy leaving the house. "Where is Monty?"
“Monty is in the study.” He said.
John let himself in, removing his boots at the door, removing his jacket, and hanging it on a peg. The house was pristine, and he did not want to argue with Monty over leaving muddy footprints on his floors. He walked down the hallway to his study, knocking gently on the door.
“Come in,” Monty said.
John entered the plush room. Monty sat behind a large oak desk in a soft, cushioned chair. “Hey, Boss,” John said as he lowered himself into one of the two slightly less plush chairs in front of the desk.
“So, what the hell has happened to you,” Monty said, looking him over.
John again recounted the journey with Kristoff and what had happened. Monty did not interrupt him and, on finishing, just nodded his head in understanding.
“That is one hell of a tale. It is a shame we could not locate the refinery, though. That would have been a nice earner for us.” Monty stated.
John was not surprised that after all, he had told him, his initial response was about potential lost profit. The man was a narcissistic bastard who only ever thought of profit.
“Anyway, the good news is that we have a new large order from Simmon’s,” he said.
John knew of Simmon’s. He was a vehicle manufacturer, one of only two in the region. Monty had been trying to get a contract with him for years, but Simmon’s had always played hard to get. “That is big news,” John answered.
“Yeah, the problem is we need to up our slave count to accommodate the order quantity. It will be starting after the winter season. So, we need to ensure the initial batches are completed before then.” Monty said.
“So, how many slaves do we need?” John asked.
“Another thirty, I would expect to maintain current orders and then cover the new.”
“Damn, it's that big?” John asked.
“Yeah, it will make approximately 40% of the factory's income next year if it all goes to plan with the potential for even more orders.”
John whistled at the information. That was a huge increase in profits for the factory, which would also mean an increase for himself.
“We have one small problem,” Monty said.
“What is that?” John asked.
“I need you to go to Scarshot.”
“What? Why me? Where is Richard? He is the slave buyer.” John stated with surprise.
“Richard has retired,” Monty stated flatly.
“Retired? I know he was getting on a bit, but really.” John replied surprised.
“Yup. He handed in his notice two weeks ago and has left with his wife, heading to the coast. He wants to spend time fishing.” Monty scoffed.
John just laughed at the thought of Richard sitting on a beach with his wife, spending his days fishing. “Where did he head to?”
“Over towards the Emerald Isle, there is a small township over there.”
“So Scarshot. When is the auction?” John asked.
“The last one is the end of the month, so I need you to head there as soon as you can.”
“I have just got back, for fucks sake!” John exclaimed.
“I know, and I would not ask you normally, but I need you to do this for the factory. I would say to take Kristoff with you, but that cannot happen now. I will let you pick who you want to take, but no more than two, as I do not want to leave us short here. You will be taking the main truck so you can easily pack it for the journey and take enough supplies for the road, and I have the stacks for the purchases.” Monty added.
“Ok. Let me think about who to take. Preferably someone who can drive this time!” John said.
“Can you be ready to set off in the morning? If you don’t get on the road now, we may miss the auction, and we need those bodies. The weather has turned poor further North, listening to the radio chatter, and the snow is heavy apparently.” He added.
“Ok. I will go and sort out the details.” John said, getting up to leave.
John walked back towards the factory gates, cursing under his breath at his recent downturn in luck. They had planned to go to Jack’s tonight, and if he went, he knew he would not be able to get too bad on nectar having to set out in the morning. He thought through who he could take with him and concluded on Mike and Salvatore. He was sure that Salvatore could drive and would check as soon as he saw him.
‘I better see what has been going on in my absence’, he thought as he entered the site, going straight to the cutting shop to check-in.