Redemption Mountain (14 page)

They ventured into the cavernous main building. It was cool and dark on the ground floor. A steel stairway led to the second level, where there was more available light from the numerous openings in the walls. Charlie showed the boy the huge cavities that would be filled by the three giant turbines arriving by train in a few months. They walked inside the massive boilers that would burn the pulverized coal and turn purified water into steam. Charlie thought about the amount of coal that the boilers would consume and the Redemption Mountain problem, which, he knew, was the primary reason he was in West Virginia.

Charlie pointed out the three exhaust portals that would lead to the scrubber assembly and tried to explain how they cleaned the smoke produced by the burning coal. The boy was mesmerized by Charlie's endless knowledge and seemed elated at the attention the man was paying to him.

They clambered noisily down the stairway and back out into the sunlight. Around the outside of the plant, the ground was rough with muddy trenches left by the heavy machinery. Charlie had forgotten how much standing water was indigenous to large construction sites. He would need a pair of high rubber boots.

Charlie walked to the original site of the cooling pond. He could see several places where the hard brown rock pushed through the sandy soil like the back of a whale lurking just beneath the surface.
Anyone could see that this was going to be a horrible place to build a pond. What the hell were the site architects thinking about?
Charlie chalked it up to arrogance, a quality available in great supply in the mega-project engineers who considered themselves
masters of the universe
and wouldn't worry too much about an insignificant detail like the location of a cooling pond.

He turned north, in the direction of the alternative pond location at the far end of the site. It was about a ten-minute walk up to the spot that would need the planning board's approval. He'd skip it for today. Charlie wanted to get into Bluefield to find the company condo.

He started back toward the administration building, the boy by his side. “Tell me, Pie Man, when you sneak in here at night when the guard isn't around, what do you do?”

The boy pursed his lips tightly. Charlie laughed, understanding that the boy thought he might be in trouble. “You can tell me,” Charlie cajoled. “It'll be our secret.”

With that, the boy stopped and pointed toward the collection of bulldozers and dump trucks. Charlie followed his gesture.
Of course! What kid could resist monster toys like those?

He smiled at the boy. “I don't blame you, Pie Man. That's what I'd be doing if I was a kid around here.” He pushed the boy's cap down. “But I've got a feeling the security guard may be paying closer attention in the future. C'mon, let's see if we can get into the administration building.”

When they got close, Charlie noticed that the main gate was open and that the boy's bicycle was lying in the weeds. In the paved parking area sat a black Chevy Suburban with the unmistakable OntAmex Energy logo.

“It looks like our security guard has finally turned up,” said Charlie. The boy slowed down noticeably, and Charlie saw him glance between the truck, the gate, and his bike, as if measuring the distance to his escape route.

“It's all right, Pie Man. You're with me.” But the boy lingered behind, preferring to stay within sight of the open gate and his bike.

“I wait out here, Charlie. I wait here.”

“Okay, I'm just going to see if he's inside,” Charlie answered, as he walked toward the main door. Then he heard a deep voice from around the end of the building.

“Hey, you,
kid
! What the fuck are you doin' on my property? Get over here!”

The boy sidled nervously away from the voice, looking around the side of the building as if trying to spot Charlie.

“Hey, kid, you deaf or wha—” The security guard stopped abruptly when Charlie came into view. The guard was tall and powerful-looking, with a full gray mustache and the look of an ex-military man or state trooper. He wore a dark-blue shirt with
ONTAMEX SECURITY
on the right breast and the name
HICKS
emblazoned on the left pocket.

“The kid's with me; he's okay,” said Charlie.

“Yeah, and who the hell are you, and why are you and Charlie Brown here trespassing on my property?”

Charlie offered his hand. “Hi, I'm Charlie Burden. I'm the—”

“How'd you assholes get in here?” Hicks continued, ignoring Charlie's hand.

Charlie felt his patience drain away. He could sense the boy's nervousness as he tried to edge away from the two men.
The kid didn't deserve to be frightened over this.
Charlie gritted his teeth. “All right, Hicks, that's enough! If you want to keep your job beyond the next thirty seconds, you'll shut up and listen.”

The security guard's face softened as it came to him: the expensive car with New York plates, the name
Burden
 … the new guy! Hugo Paxton's replacement.

“I'm Charlie Burden, and I'm in charge of this site. You may be getting paid by OntAmex, but you now work for me, and your first day on the job isn't going well. If you were doing your job, you'd know how we got in. So when I come to work on Monday morning, you'd better be able to show me, and you'd better have it taken care of.”

Charlie moved away from the now-docile Hicks toward the boy, who stood wide-eyed at how his new friend had spoken to the guard. Charlie put his hand on the back of the boy's neck and started walking him toward the gate.

“Hey, Mr. Burden, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you. All I saw was that kid there, and…” Hicks's tone showed real concern over the prospect of losing his overpaid job.

Charlie turned back. “Mr. Hicks, this is my good friend the Pie Man, and anytime he wants to come on the grounds to see me, he's welcome. Okay?”

“Yessir, Mr. Burden. I'll see you on Monday morning, and we'll start fresh.”

Charlie didn't bother to answer. He was tired and hot, the sun was getting lower, and he still needed to get to Bluefield. A cold shower and eight hours of sleep was what he needed.

The boy picked up his bicycle and stood with his legs straddling the front wheel as he straightened the loose handlebars.

“Should have your daddy put a wrench on that and tighten it up, Pie Man,” Charlie said, as he unlocked the Lexus. The boy didn't respond. He seemed a little subdued. When he looked up at Charlie, he squinted with one eye closed and turned his head at an angle to avoid looking directly into the sun over Charlie's shoulder.

“Charlie, am I really your good friend, like you tell that man?”

Charlie grinned at the expression on the boy's face. He stepped forward and turned the boy's cap around so the bill shielded his eyes from the sun.

“Pie Man, you're the best friend I have in West Virginia.”

The boy looked away, as if he was embarrassed. Then he turned back to Charlie as he jumped onto his bicycle seat. He had on his scrunched-up happy face, with the smile so tight it closed his eyes and pushed the little pink tip of his tongue out even farther. He rode his bike a few yards down the entry road, then circled around slowly and came back toward Charlie.

“Thank you for thowing me where the turbines will go.”

“You're welcome, Pie Man. Thanks for showing me how to sneak in.”

As the boy started to ride off, Charlie called after him. “Hey, Pie Man.” The boy stopped and turned back to Charlie. “How old are you?”

The boy held up ten fingers. “I am twelve,” he said, concentrating on his fingers. Charlie had to laugh at the expression on the boy's face as he pedaled off toward the logging road that ran through the woods to South County Road. Twice he turned back to see if Charlie was still watching, and he waved. He still had the strange, happy look on his face. Charlie tried to recall the last time he spoke to a twelve-year-old.
Had it really been that long?
It was fun being with a child again. And there was something about this boy with Down syndrome that was very likable. Charlie wondered if he'd see him again.

*   *   *

O
N THE WAY
out to the OntAmex site, Charlie had passed through the center of Red Bone—an old-time Main Street with a few side streets and a half dozen or so old dark-stone buildings of three and four stories. He remembered a place called Barney's, which looked like a general store with a restaurant on one side. It was in a four-story building on a corner at the center of town. He'd stop there on the way back to get directions to Bluefield and a cup of coffee to go.

Charlie drove leisurely east on South County Road toward Old Red Bone, taking in the sights. He went past a boarded-up motel with a heavy growth of weeds pushing through long-neglected cracks in the parking area. Several other abandoned buildings could've once been small manufacturing companies or warehouses. A two-story red-brick building with hundreds of small windows, mostly broken, had probably been a school at one time. There was very little along the road that seemed to be functioning. Nothing new had been built on South County Road for many years.

From a long way off, Charlie could see the old buildings of Red Bone etched against the mountain by the light of the sun setting in the west behind him. He drove up the long, steep hill to Main Street, pulled around the corner, and stopped in front of Barney's General Store. The lights were out on the store side on the left, but he could see a woman sweeping the floor in the restaurant. Probably closing up and too late for coffee. But Charlie still needed directions.

The restaurant could have served as a set for a fifties movie. Wooden booths with individual jukeboxes ran along the front windows. The counter snaked out and back in the typical space-saving U-shaped pattern. Overhead, large ceiling fans turned slowly, and fluorescent lights kept the restaurant bright as day.

The woman looked up from sweeping as Charlie entered. She looked to be in her late fifties, with short gray hair and a fleshy face. She had a tired, end-of-the-day look about her.

“Let me guess,” she said, leaning on her broom. “White-water guy, down here for the rafting on the New River. You missed your exit, got lost, and now you need directions up to Fayette County, right?” She smiled at Charlie, enjoying her game.

“You got part of it right. I do need directions. I'm looking for the best way to get to Bluefield.” Charlie took a few steps into the restaurant. It reminded him of the New Haven diners of his youth.

“Was that all you wanted when you come in here, directions?” she asked. “Or were you looking to eat? 'Cause I can't turn on the grill again, but I got some cold stuff, if you're hungry.”

“No, that's okay. I was looking for a cup of coffee to go, but that's all right.”

The woman leaned her broom against one of the booths and went behind the counter. “You sit down a minute, then, and I'll make you coffee.” Charlie protested, but she waved him to a stool. While the coffee brewed, she told him how to get to Bluefield. When he asked about the condo development, she drew a little map for him. “You must be a power-plant guy. A lot of them live over there in Bluefield.”

“That's right. I'm here to work on the OntAmex project.”

“Well, then, welcome to West Virginia. I'm Eve Brewster,” she said, holding out her hand. “This town really needed that project. Been good for my business, I'll tell you.”

Charlie shook her hand over the countertop. “I'm Charlie Burden, Eve, and I'm very happy to meet you. But, I do wish you hadn't made coffee just for me.”

Eve Brewster looked at him with a wry smile. “So, you're the new
big mule
from New York.”

Charlie laughed. “The big what?”

“The big mule. The boss. It's an old coal-mining expression.”

“Word travels fast.”

“Your man Summers—young guy with the white sports car? He was in tossing your name around the other day. Said you were on your way down.”

“I'm surprised anyone would care,” said Charlie.

“The big mule at the power plant is pretty important stuff around here. You're kind of a celebrity. Like poor Mr. Paxton was, rest his soul.”

“You knew Hugo?”

“He was about my best customer. Man could eat cheese omelets like he just got out of a Japanese prison camp. Good tipper, too.” Eve poured coffee into a tall Styrofoam cup. “He'd stop in on his way out some evenings, and buy his beer or liquor. And cigarettes.” Eve Brewster let out a hearty laugh. “
Goddamn
if it don't sound like I killed that man single-handed.”

Charlie laughed. “It must've been the omelets.”

Eve looked out the window as a car pulled around the corner. Charlie glanced over his shoulder long enough to see a red Honda. “Mr. Burden, you feel free to sit there and enjoy your coffee. I'm going to have to open the store for my sister-in-law here,” Eve said, as she moved toward the front door.

“No, that's okay. I'll be going.” Charlie stood up and reached for his wallet. But Eve had gone out of the restaurant as the bell over the front door tinkled, and a new voice filled the vestibule.

“Hey, Evey. Can you open the store for a minute, please? I'm runnin' late, and I got to bring the boys their medicine.”

“Yes, Natty. I know, it's Friday, and you're in a hurry, like always.” The lights went on in the store. “Everything okay in the hollow? Hey, I'm sorry about your friend Birdie.”

“Thanks, Eve. It was a shame, but, even so, you and I should go like Birdie Merkely did when our time comes.”

Charlie had nothing smaller than a twenty, but he couldn't leave without paying for the coffee. And he wanted to say goodbye to Eve and thank her. He sipped his coffee and wandered over to the bulletin board just inside the door of the restaurant. It held a few business cards, several ads, and some notices of upcoming church events.