Boot Sequence (Patreon)

“Fuck!” I say to no one in the empty truck. My head was somewhere else, so I made it all the way from the portakabin, through the site gate and to the contractor parking without my empty lunch box. I’ve been off my game all week, misplacing things, forgetting task orders and generally making a fool of myself. Today I wasn’t even able to divide 28 by 4 without the calculator app. Man, I really need this weekend. Fuck, Liz wanted me to buy something for our date, and I’ve completely forgotten what.

The door to the portakabin is open. I thought I was the last one to leave. I had to re-cut the rebars I mismeasured. I’m pretty sure I locked the door, but I’ve been pretty sure about a lot of things that turned out differently the past few days.

As I enter I see my locker is open and foreman Brenner doing something with my work boots, placed on the floor. Startled he turns to me. He has blue latex gloves on his hands. In one hand he holds a small, brown glass bottle and in the other one of them dropper things.

- Shit!
- Sup boss. What’cha doin’ with my stuff? Hey, is that why they been damp all week? You been puttin’ shit in them. You said it was ‘cause the vent’lation’s busted.
- Look, you wouldn’t understand.
- Oh, yeah? Try me!

Right then someone grabbed me from behind and pushed me to the floor. I’m not a sissy guy, but he got the jump on me, and I could feel this wasn’t his first manhandling. I’m quickly pinned down, face into the vinyl floor.

- You got him, Brad? Can you keep him put?
- No problem, chief.

Brad Sergionne. Massive guy. Not the sharpest spoon in the drawer. I held a small meeting about unionizing last month, and he got bored and left after like 2 minutes.

- Get the fuck off me Brad!
- Both you and Brad will stay were you are until we have this sorted. I was hoping to do this in subtle way. Put just the right amount of sand in the tank to make the engine stutter.
- What the fuck are you talking about Brenner?
- Your mutiny with your little union attempt, of course. And it was all going so well. This was supposed to be the last little tweak, since you would bounce back a bit during the weekend. Unfortunately now I have to improvise.

I don’t follow. I understand he didn’t like me trying to unionize the guys, but what about the rest of it? He can be fucking sure I’ll report him for National Labor Relations Act violations first thing Monday morning. I can hear the muffled sound of glass jars in a bag, as if he is looking for something in a medkit. Brad is sitting on my back, keeping one arm behind my back and the legs down, somehow. I’ve done no wrestling, so any technique would work on me, especially from someone built like Brad.

I feel Brenner pulling off my sneakers. Then. with some trouble I can feel him putting on the right work boot, and tying the lace. A bit slow, as the boot no doubt is at an awkward angle for him. It’s damp, perhaps even wet. By the time he is putting on the second boot, the first foot doesn’t just feel wet, but cold in a weird way. By the time he is done it almost hurts, like one of those sports gels that makes it feel cold.

- What the fuck are you doing? Did you soak them in Bengay?

Brenner doesn’t answer. He walks around the room, collecting things. Then he is back on his knees and fiddles with the boots again. I hear a sharp noise I recognize, but can’t place. I hear it over and over, and the boots are getting somewhat tighter. Then he steps away, grabs his bag and steps out the door.

- Ok, Brad. We’re leaving.

Nimble for his size, Brad gets off me and steps away. I want to jump up and have a swing at him, but I feel sick, drunk and like my feet are on fire. I can feel my whole body breaking out in sweat. I shiver and slowly lose consciousness while I hear the metal bar in front of the door being padlocked in place.

It’s darker when I come to next. I’m damp in sweat all over, but neither hot nor freezing. I slowly sit up on the floor and look around. I’m in the locker room trailer thing. A naked light bulb bathed everything in a white light. Not a pear shaped light bulb, but the screwy tube kind. The floor is dirty, scratched yellow plastic. A wooden bench is nailed to the wall on one side of the room. There is a small table with cheap chairs, and a series of banged up metal lockers. Why am I here?

This is the room I change in at work. But I’m not working now. I should go home. I have my go home clothes on me. I look at my feet, and frown. I’m wearing my work boots. Perhaps I am working after all. My feet feels wet and warm. They shouldn’t feel like that. I see all the holes in the boot have been tighten with those Thai zips plastic bands. Oh, I remember now. Boss did that. It should probably be like that then, since he is the boss.

I stand up and try to open the door. It is locked. I guess I should stay here then. Someone has left a big bottle of whiskey, a few cans of beans and a can peeler. I hope they are for me, in case I get hungry. I am hungry now, so I take a seat. I feel the phone in my pocket and take it out. It says the time is 04:26 when you click the button on it. I can’t remember what the code is. I try 0426, but that wasn’t it, and it made the time change to 04:27. Perhaps boss can help me when he gets back.