The Invisible Hand - A crime novel

Chapter 77

Back to pressure washing.

Taw makes sure I do a good job. Cracks jokes when the washer is running. I can't hear them.

Then it's on to the pallets again. And fetching random tools. A wrench the size of my leg. A hammer Thor would envy. Carts of things I can only identify by weight.

It's like they're trying to wear me down. It's working.

The repetitive work gives me time to think, though. I need a plan. And it needs to work before that dope disappears up the crew's noses. I spot them hunched over. Rise with a pep in their step. All courtesy of Taw.

Meth is shit, but I'm starting to understand why it's so popular here. Could use a little jolt myself.

I mean, fuck, look at that prairie. They say if you stare at a void it eventually stares back. Well, ladies and gentlemen, this is it. And that wind, that's the prairie inhaling, not exhaling. Sucks the energy from you. I've got nothing left.

"The hell you staring at?" Taw says. He's right next to me now.

I must've started that long gaze that comes with exhaustion. Didn't realize it.

"Nothing," I say.

"Back to work, shit worm," Taw says.

I finish cleaning. Coil up the pressure washer before the sun goes down. Figure I'll get off the rig before Taw and the others.

I quick change into a fresh set of clothes. Bolt over to the RV. I still don't have a plan. Try thinking of one on the way over. Too tired to do even that.

After putting a foot inside the RV, I realize I don't need one. Sam screaming from the bedroom is plan enough.

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