Hell Rig (7 page)

By mid-afternoon, according to Ed, the platform was beginning to take shape. Jeff could see it no longer resembled the burned out hull it had been, but to Jeff it was beginning to look more like an organized garbage dump. Piles of refuse lined one side of the platform awaiting transfer to the supply barge.

“We’re making good progress,” Ed told them when they gathered for a coffee break. “If we finish ahead of schedule, I’ll buy the steaks.” He seemed in good spirits, pleased with their efforts so far. Jeff just hoped the weather held. The sky was taking on a grayish cast out in the Gulf. Tropical Storm Rita was somewhere over Cuba, headed their way and he had an uneasy feeling about it. Still, they say lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place.

“Steaks hell!” Tolson called out. “You buy the booze.”

Ed laughed. “It’s a deal.”

“When is the supply barge due?” Gleason asked. “I want to get some of this stinking garbage off.”

Ed looked at Lisa before answering. “We’re not sure. Day after tomorrow maybe.” He looked down and shuffled his feet. “We can’t call out.”

Tolson’s smile vanished, quickly replaced by a concerned expression, “Why not?”

Lisa answered hesitantly. “I don’t know.” Her words rushed out as she continued. “Everything checks out fine. We have power, the circuits are live and the frequency is right. It…just won’t transmit,” she finished lamely.

“The antenna tower’s up,” McAndrews pointed out. “You should have enough range.”

“I know. I briefly contacted the depot yesterday. We should be able to at least pick up some local ship traffic out in the Gulf,” she replied. “Maybe it’s atmospheric.”

Jeff could see that the radio problem bothered her. “You’ll fix it,” he said with a confident smile.

She smiled back at him but with less enthusiasm.

“Okay, back to work,” Ed told them.

As the others left, Jeff pulled Lisa aside. “Is it as bad as you said?” he asked.

“All the equipment seems to be working as far as I can tell,” Lisa confided. “It just isn’t broadcasting. It’s like an invisible shield is keeping the radio waves from leaving the platform. I don’t know what the problem is,” she admitted with a long sigh. “If it requires more parts, we don’t have any.”

“The supply ship will come whether we call or not,” he reminded her. “It’s on its way.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“I’ll check the antenna later, after I finish with the crane. Maybe there’s a loose connection somewhere.”

She smiled and touched his chest with her hand. “I appreciate it, Jeff, but I doubt that’s the problem.”

His chest felt unnaturally warm where her hand rested. He resisted the impulse to cover it with his. He felt an awkward boyish sense of joy sweep through his body, as if meeting his first girlfriend. They stood that way a few moments, looking into one another’s eyes. Her smile faded, replaced by an expression of curiosity. She dropped her hand.

“I have to go.”

The smell of her perfume lingered as he watched her walk away, admiring her figure. She walked solidly but gracefully, not the practiced sashay of a New Orleans hooker or the lumbering gait of a not so feminist roustabout. She glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled.

Later, as he greased the crane’s fittings, he caught himself staring up at the spot where the Digger Man had ended his life. The bloodstains on the deck had been erased by the storm, but at times, when the light was just right, he swore he could see the shadow of a blood stain spreading across the deck. He was standing and staring at cables, hoping to repeat his earlier vision, when Waters came up behind him, as silently as a ghost.

“You see it, too, don’t you?” he asked.

Jeff jumped and turned to look at him. Waters looked even more haggard than when they had arrived. Large dark circles surrounded his eyes and his hands constantly trembled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied. “Where have you been all day?” he asked gruffly, changing the subject. “I thought you were supposed to be helping us.”

Waters’ smile made him uneasy. “I’ve been trying, but I didn’t do any good. You’re still in danger.”

“What do you mean?”

“It still wants all of you. I can’t stop it.”

He took a step toward Waters. “Look. I’m tired of your sick jokes. If you aren’t going to help, stay away from me.”

Waters backed up, cowering. Jeff felt a rush of guilt for his outburst. The platform was getting to him. When Waters saw Jeff was not going to hit him, he smiled. “Take the girl and leave while you can. I can’t stop it.”

“No one can leave until the supply ship gets here.”

“Swim,” Waters said as he turned to leave. “You’ll be safer in the water with the sharks.”

Jeff watched Waters walk away and was more certain than ever that the man was insane. Waters talked to himself and made odd gestures as he scurried away, recoiling at shadows as if afraid of them. As Jeff coiled up the cable for the crane’s remote control, it occurred to him that the one thing bothering him about Waters’ macabre story focused on the remote. He eyed the length of cable attached to it. Next, he estimated the distance to where Waters claimed Digger Man’s body had hung. Without an accurate measurement he could not be certain, but it looked to him as if Digger Man could not have hoisted himself. The remote cable would not reach that far. Why would Waters lie?

Perhaps Waters was merely mistaken or the crane could have shifted during the hurricane. Jeff knew he had left it at the exact height he had found it after raising the antennae. He slipped it into the back of his mind for the time being. He had other things to ponder.

* * * *

The end of the long work day could not have come soon enough for Jeff. His muscles ached and he was filthy. He was also apprehensive, as if someone was watching him. Several times during the day, he had turned quickly expecting to see someone standing there, but all he saw were shadows. All afternoon, he had felt as if something bad was about to happen. It was not quite a premonition but more than a gut feeling. He tried to place the blame on Waters’ odd behavior but knew that was not it. He knew they were in for trouble and it was not just the increasingly graying sky.

It was not all bad news. Jeff and McAndrews had managed to run a line from a secondary freshwater tank they had located to the emergency shower. They also surrounded the shower with plywood for privacy. The water was cold but on a hot muggy day, it felt heavenly. A quick shower managed to wash away the grime and sweat but did nothing about his apprehension. The entire group was unusually quiet during dinner, except for Easton. His constant braggadocio about his accomplishments that day wore on everyone’s nerves. Finally, Gleason could take no more and exploded.

“Shut the hell up, Easton, or I’ll swat you like a fly,” he shouted before taking a bite of his bread.

“Try it you big lummox,” Easton challenged, pushing his chair back and half rising.

“Stow it you two!” Ed called out, shutting them up. They continued to brood and stare at each other but said nothing more. Jeff suspected Easton knew just how far he could rile Big Clyde before pushing him too far, riding that fine edge for all it was worth. It made him want to slap Easton down himself.

“Good dinner, Mac,” Jeff said trying to lighten the mood. Each took a turn at cooking dinner and McAndrews had managed to make a palatable meal from sliced deli beef. “What is it?”

MacAndrews smiled. “Shit-on-a-shingle, my dad called it. It’s chipped beef and gravy with fresh peas on mashed potatoes. I chopped up the beef and sautéed it in oil before making a white sauce and adding the chipped beef to it.”

“We ate it in the Navy but it didn’t taste as good,” Ed added.

“Thanks,” MacAndrews said, embarrassed by the sudden attention. “I just added a few spices I found in the pantry.”

“You’ll make someone a fine wife someday,” Tolson chided, throwing McAndrews a mock kiss.

McAndrews threw back his head and quoted:

“
If more of us valued food and cheer and song

Above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world
.”

Lisa’s brow furrowed and she lowered her fork. “Shakespeare?” she asked.

“J.R.R. Tolkien,” McAndrews answered with a chuckle.

“Don’t pay any attention to Tolson,” Lisa said. “Women love men who can cook. Don’t they Greg?” She said, looking over at Greg Bale.

Bale had been silent throughout the entire meal, concentrating on his plate of food. He looked up suddenly, a startled expression on his face, a deer caught in a spotlight. “I, uh, I…” He pushed his unfinished meal aside. “I guess I’ll take first watch tonight,” he said quickly and left the room.

Lisa looked at Jeff, concern showing in her eyes. “What did I say?”

Jeff just shrugged. Bale was always quiet but not shy, his mood darkening since they arrived. He hadn’t said more than pleasantries all day. Maybe it was just the platform. It was getting on everyone’s nerves.

“We takin’ watches now, Ed?” Tolson asked bemused.

Ed had watched Bale walk out and was still staring at the door. “It might be a good idea at that,” he answered, turning his attention back to the table. “We should keep a fire watch. We don’t know if the gas manifold will hold or not. We should keep an eye out for leaks.” Jeff knew that was Ed’s way of saying he didn’t trust Waters. “It won’t hurt to have someone awake in case of a blowout.”

Jeff glanced at Sims and saw him trying to hide a smile. Something in Sims’ eyes made Jeff shudder. He noticed Tolson using his cell phone and frowning.

“God damn cell phone!” Tolson cursed. He held the offending phone in one hand. “I got full bars but can’t call out.”

“Same with mine,” Jeff acknowledged.

“Maybe it’s all this metal,” Lisa suggested.

Tolson shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Maybe,” he said, “but it’s damn odd.”

* * * *

Greg Bale sat on the edge of the rig with his legs thrust through the rails and dangling over the side, smoking a cigarette. He knew he was not supposed to smoke on the rig but he needed the nicotine and did not want to walk down to the dock. He tried to stifle a yawn. Bored and tired, he regretted volunteering to stand guard duty. They did not need a night watch and he suspected Ed knew it. Lisa had caught him off guard with her question. He had been deep in his own reverie and her question had struck too close to home. He had just completed fifty pushups and fifty sit-ups, but the exercises had failed to purge the bitter memories occurring more often lately. Soon, they would not help at all.

He checked his watch—ten until twelve. Ten minutes until Easton was scheduled to relieve Bale, if the newbie showed up at all. Bale didn’t trust the young punk. He was too macho for his own good and had the look of a slacker. He did not trust McAndrews either. He had seen the big guy stalking the decks like a specter and wondered what his story was. He didn’t act like the usual roustabout. He was too quiet and too inquisitive. He even moved like a ghost, coming upon you before you heard him.

Waters spooked him even more. The man was insane or close to it. His eyes revealed nothing. It was as if there was no one behind them. Sims wasn’t much better. His eyes missed nothing, following everyone around like a documentary camera. Shaking Sims’ hand the first time they’d met, something passed between them. Sims had smiled as if he learned a great secret and Bale felt suddenly naked and ashamed.

Of course, he was one to talk. Unlike Gleason and Tolson or even Towns to a degree, he was as far removed from the usual roustabout as they came. The others didn’t know much about him except he worked hard and seldom complained aloud. Almost automatically, he reached to the cross around his neck. He wondered why he still bothered to wear it. If God existed, he didn’t give a rat’s ass about a defrocked priest.

He thought back ten years earlier, to a small parish church in western Louisiana. It had been his first parish and he had such grand ideas for helping his parishioners, mostly dirt-poor shrimper-folk and oil field workers. Instead, he had succumbed to evil incarnate, a temptress named Jo Beth Slocum, a beautiful Creole girl with coffee-colored skin and dark, sultry eyes. He thought he was helping her, teaching her to read and write, but in his heart he knew he was falling in love, slowly wilting under her almost hypnotic charms. Each touch thrilled him. The scent of her perfume aroused him.

One night she came to him wearing a simple dress and nothing beneath. Standing in the moonlight, her naked body visible—he had succumbed. They had made love behind his church in a field of grass, him promising to leave the priesthood and marry her and her eagerly accepting his proposal. Later though, she had admitted her misdeeds to her father, claiming Father Bale had raped her. Stunned by her sudden betrayal, he had offered no defense. The Cardinal had been kind. No civil charges had been filed and he had traded his collar for a hard hat. Ten years and it still burned like an unquenchable fire in his heart aching for the cool waters of redemption. One moment of temptation had ruined his life.

The sound of muffled footsteps caught his attention. Maybe it was Easton come to relieve him early.

“That you, Easton?” he called out to the dark.

There was no answer. He got up and stood, looking around. He didn’t like games. He was too tired. Irritated, he called out again. “If that’s you Easton, show yourself.”