Fracked

by Campbell, Mark

  “Thanks, but I’d rather not plant any real roots down here,” Mike said. “Once I save up a bit, I’m out of here.”

  “Now you’re starting to sound like me,” John said. “If only I had that attitude years ago... I sure as hell wouldn’t be sitting next to you and talking about fat hookers and cigarettes.”

  “What made you stay?” Mike asked, curious.

  John thought about it for a moment before answering.

  “I guess it’s like you said… My roots run deep,” John said. “I’m a tough old tree through, so I thought that I’d be able to weather the storm. I thought that this oil stuff would all pass, or at least get better.”

  “Did it?” Mike asked.

  John sighed and didn’t respond.

  The answer was obvious and Mike felt foolish for even asking the question in the first place.

  Mike looked out the window.

  “You know, if you want to make the drive a little more bearable, you can ask around work to join a carpool,” John suggested. “I know a few guys that still live up that way. They don’t speak English, but they speak the common language… if you know what I mean.”

  John grinned and rubbed his index and thumb together.

  Mike chuckled.

  “Nah, I’d rather not have the hassle,” Mike said. “I think I’ll just bite the bullet and do the drive. If worse comes to worse, I’ll shack up in a hotel for a few days during the week.”

  “See? Now you’re part of the problem,” John teased. “A fool and his money… The cycle continues…”

  Mike laughed and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes.

  John turned his attention outside as they sped along the dirt road that cut across arid grassland.

  A large semi-truck hauling the old pump barreled past the van in the opposite direction towards town. The pump was covered by a blue tarp and secured to the bed of the truck with thick yellow straps.

  The truck’s cab was painted neon blue and a man with a blonde mullet and scraggily goatee was behind the wheel with one arm hanging out the window. He had an old tattoo on his hairy forearm. The tattoo read ‘What, me worry?’ with a smiley face.

  “Well! It looks like the graveyard shift managed to stay awake long enough to change the pump,” John said as he watched the semi-truck speed away in a cloud of dust. “It looks like we’re cracking rock today. Hope you’re ready to get dirty, kid.”

  “Can’t wait,” Mike replied listlessly without opening his eyes.

  The van slowed as it neared the security station’s rolling chain-link fence.

  As the van came to a stop, the driver turned the music down and rolled down his window.

  The Triburton security officer with the thin mustache walked to the driver-side door toting a semi-automatic assault rifle.

  The K-9 officer stood a few yards away with a Rottweiler on a leather leash.

  The Rottweiler was whimpering with its tail tucked between its legs and its ears lowered, tugging and pulling at the leash as it fearfully tried to back away from the chain-link fence.

  The officer was struggling to maintain control of the dog.

  “You know the drill. IDs, IDs!” the mustached security officer said as he looked inside the van, motioning with his hand. “Hurry up! Rápido!”

  The driver collected everyone’s Triburton ID cards and handed it off to the officer.

  The officer glanced through the IDs and peeked inside the van to match the names to the faces.

  “Alright, you’re good,” the officer said. He turned towards the K-9 officer. “Do you think you can control that bitch long enough to do a proper walk around this time? That last van you did was sloppy.”

  “It’s not my fault! I don’t know what got her so spooked,” the K-9 officer said as he tried to pull the Rottweiler towards the van.

  The Rottweiler growled and refused to move, letting its paws dig into the dirt.

  “Come on, dammit!” the K-9 officer said. He reached down to grab her by the collar.

  The Rottweiler gave a ferocious bark and snapped at his hand, snarling.

  “Fuck!” the K-9 officer shouted as he pulled his hand away just in time. In his panic he dropped the leash.

  The Rottweiler took off running away from the drill site with its tail between its legs, whimpering as it darted off into the horizon.

  The K-9 officer sprinted after the dog.

  The occupants in the van watched and laughed at the spectacle.

  Mike looked at John with an uncomfortable expression.

  “That was weird,” Mike said.

  John shrugged.

  “Probably got spooked by a snake,” John explained. “You’ll see a rattler out here every now and then.”

  The mustached officer looked nervous as he haplessly looked over at the officer manning the gate controls.

  The officer at the gate controls held up his hands and shook his head, unsure what to do.

  A line of vans was forming behind John’s van and traffic was starting to build.

  The mustached officer stared off into the distance…

  He didn’t see the dog or the K-9 officer anywhere in sight.

  “Anderson! What’s the holdup at the entrance? Stop messing around and let them through! They need the bodies! It’s an emergency!” a voice shouted through the mustached officer’s earpiece.

  “Just… go ahead and let them through!” the mustached officer shouted, motioning for the other officer to open the gate, shaking his head in embarrassment.

  The gate buzzed and rolled open along its rusty tracks.

  The van pulled into the dirt parking lot, occupants still laughing.

  As soon as it came to a stop, the workers pilled out and hurried towards the time clock, nearly running.

  Mike moved slowly ahead as he looked at the site, surprised by all of the activity.

  A row of water trucks was already circled around the well next to the large pump, ready to go. Workers were moving everywhere, hauling sacks of sand and pushing barrels of chemical additives on dollies towards the trucks in order to prepare the solution that would be pumped into the wellbore.

  John slapped Mike on the back as he walked past him.

  “Come on kid, this is where it gets interesting,” John said with a grin. He put on his hardhat and got in the line for the time clock.

  Mike nervously put on his hardhat and followed closely behind. He glanced up in the sky and noticed that a massive number of crows were circling over the jobsite. He frowned and continued to follow John.

  Hank Wallace was pacing along the line of incoming workers, frantically searching for familiar faces. He was a burly black man with broad shoulders, thick arms, and slender legs. He was wearing a white dress shirt, black jeans, and a red tie. His hardhat was so clean that it almost looked glossy.

  “I need someone who speaks English!” Mr. Wallace said.

  Some of the Hispanic workers simply looked at him and shook their head, but most of them simply stared ahead as if they didn’t hear him at all.

  “English!” Mr. Wallace emphasized.

  Mr. Wallace’s expression brightened as soon as he spotted John and Mike.

  “Finally! Thank God! You two! Come with me!” Mr. Wallace said as he motioned for them to step over. “Don’t worry about clocking in. I’ll type you into the computer later.”

  John frowned.

  “You better not forget, Hank,” John said as he hesitantly followed the man. “That’s my check you’re messing with and I don’t like working for free.”

  Mr. Wallace turned around and held his arms out, smiling.

  “Come on man, this is me you’re talking to!” Mr. Wallace said as he led them towards one of the water trucks.

  “Yeah, I know, that’s why I’m worried,” John said with a grimace.

  Mr. Wallace laughed and shook a finger in the air.

  “Ah, come on now! Don’t hurt my feelings! You’re my favorite employee!” Mr. Wallace said with a f
ake grin.

  “Since when did you supervise the pumps anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be off in the chem yard?” John asked.

  “Didn’t you hear yet the latest?” Mr. Wallace asked, looking over at John.

  “Hear what? Our van just pulled up,” John said.

  “Tracy got canned this morning,” Mr. Wallace announced with a grin.

  John blinked in disbelief.

  “You’re shitting me,” John said.

  “Nope!” Mr. Wallace said. “Some suit from corporate came in here in an Audi and let Tracy and a few others go. I’m running things now.”

  “You’re in charge?! May God help us all,” John said, shaking his head.

  Mr. Wallace laughed and kept walking.

  A forklift sped towards them carrying a pallet full of sandbags.

  Mike and John leapt out of the way just in time.

  “Jesus Christ! What is all of this about, Hank?” John asked, shaking his head. “What’s the rush?”

  “We’re having some problems equalizing the pressure!” Mr. Wallace explained, yelling over the sound of the nearby machinery. “I think they mixed too much sand and partially clogged the line!”

  Mr. Wallace led them to the pressurization truck that was attached to the pump that fed into the wellbore.

  “Where do we come in?” John asked. “I usually work the final stage, not the initial flood.”

  “What?!” Mr. Wallace asked loudly, leaning closer.

  “I said that I don’t normally preform this stage!” John shouted back.

  “You work the trucks, right?” Mr. Wallace asked.

  “Yeah just not this stage of it,” John said.

  “But you know how to do it, right?” Mr. Wallace asked.

  “Well, yeah, I just don’t understand why you pulled me and a rookie to do this,” John said.

  “Those other idiots already messed it up once this morning and we nearly lost the well. I need someone who knows what they’re doing!” Mr. Wallace explained. “All you need to do is monitor the truck’s gauge and control the flow! The new guy isn’t doing anything special, but I need you working with someone who understands what the hell you’re saying. I just want him to keep an eye on the wellbore seal and the pump! Think you can catch him up to speed on the details?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine!” John shouted over the deafening whine of the pump.

  “Good! Make sure he knows what to do!” Mr. Wallace said as he pointed at Mike. He slapped John on the back and started to walk away. “I have to, uh, go check on the mixing crew and make sure they don’t screw up!”

  “Hey, Hank, since I’m working the initial stage I better get hazard pay!” John shouted.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll make sure to throw you something extra on your check,” Mr. Wallace said with a wink. He quickly retreated and covered his ears.

  Mike walked up to John, confused.

  “What just happened?!” Mike asked.

  John shook his head, frustrated.

  “I can’t tell if we just got promoted or shafted!” John admitted. “Either way, look, this is serious stuff so I need for you to pay attention, alright? We’re dealing with unstable pressure.”

  “What do you need me to do?” Mike asked.

  John pointed at the pump next to the wellbore.

  “See that lever on the pump, the one right under the gauges?” John asked.

  Mike looked towards the pump and nodded.

  “Yeah, I see it!” Mike shouted, covering one ear.

  “If I give you the signal, I want you to push the lever down and release the pressure on your end,” John said. “If any of the gauges go into the red, tell me so I can ease the flow on my end, okay? We have to get the pressure equalized and keep it there otherwise the whole damn thing will blow up in our face.”

  “Yeah I got it,” Mike said.

  John patted Mike on the shoulder.

  “Good, now get over there and check those gauges!” John said.

  Mike hurried towards the pump and studied the gauges closely. He nodded and stuck his thumb in the air.

  John nodded and watched the gauges on the pressurization truck.

  The needle was slightly above normal and stayed in the yellow area.

  He lowered the outflow and watched as the needle slowly dipped back down into the green.

  John frowned and shook his head.

  “I don’t understand what the problem is!” John shouted over the rumble of the truck’s engine. “Does everything look good on your end over there?!”

  “Yeah! Everything is in the green!” Mike hollered as he stared at the gauges on the intermediate pump.

  “Guess whatever was blocking the line has already cleared. We’re running too low to crack the shale at this rate. I’m going to raise the pressure and see if she holds steady. Get ready!” John shouted.

  He slowly turned the knob and listened as the fluid roared through the machine. The needle briefly spiked into the yellow but lowered back into the green.

  John studied the gauges and smiled.

  “Holy shit, I think we did it! It looks equalized! Old fucking Hank really does owe us a bonus now!” he shouted towards Mike. “Is everything still good over there?”

  “Just a slight rise in pressure but none of the needles are anywhere near the red!” Mike yelled back.

  “Good! I’m going to keep it here for a while before I try raising it again!” John shouted. “Keep an eye on your gauges and monitor for any major fluctuations!”

  Mike nodded and gave him a thumb up.

  John stared at the gauges on the truck and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Several minutes passed but nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary.

  John reached for the controls but quickly froze.

  The pressurization truck’s gauges started to climb up into the yellow.

  The machine started to whine and rumble as the pressure needles shook violently.

  “Hey Mike!” John shouted. “Something’s not right on my end! I’m going to restrict the flow!”

  John lowered the outflow but the gauges continued to rise into the red. Panicking, he quickly turned the flow off completely, but the pressure continued to rise.

  “I don’t get it! It’s like something is pushing up against the flow!” John shouted.

  John ducked as the seals that connected the hose to the pressurization truck started to crack and jets of water started to shoot everywhere.

  An alarm started blaring.

  The other workers nearby dropped what they were doing, abandoned their forklifts, and left their equipment behind as they ran away from the well, shouting in Spanish.

  Hahn stepped out of the trailer and stood on the small wooden patio, staring in horror as the alarm wailed overhead.

  “MIKE! THE LEVER! Push it down and release the pressure!” John shouted frantically. “DO IT NOW! We’re going to lose the well!”

  Mike, trembling and sweating, tried to push down on the lever but it wouldn’t budge. The needles on his pump shot up into the red and the gauge’s glass housings burst one after the other while highly pressurized water started erupting from the seals around the wellbore.

  He stumbled backwards, shielding his eyes from the glass fragments that pelted his face.

  John stepped back as he heard the steel groan and felt the earth tremble. He watched as the pump Mike was standing by slowly started to expand. The fuse boxes erupted in a shower of sparks. The cover on the wellbore started to protrude upwards into a dome-like shape as steel rivets popped off one by one and ricocheted off of the rig’s beams overhead. Steam and water started to spray from the degenerating seal and the long pipe that ran along the middle of the rig down through the center of the wellbore started shaking violently.

  He knew it was too late to save it.

  “MIKE! Forget the pump! It’s gone! Just get the hell away from there!” John shouted as he started to run away from the pressurization truck.

  “
Wait! I can do it!” Mike shouted back as he wiped the blood away from his badly lacerated face. He pushed down on the lever again, groaning loudly as he put his bodyweight against it.

  The lever resisted at first, but slowly then it slowly started to lower.

  “Leave the goddamn pump alone and get away from that thing!” John yelled.

  “No, it’s okay! I already got it moving! I almost have it!” Mike shouted as he pushed down. Sweat started to bead across his forehead and run down the back of his neck. His arms were shaking and growing tired but he was determined not to fail.

  John started running towards Mike, shouting at him.

  “Look around you goddammit! It’s already too late! Get the fuck away from–”

  The valve attached to the lever exploded and flung Mike away from the machine like a ragdoll.

  Mike tumbled backwards and landed a few yards away from the ruptured pump.

  John froze in his tracks and threw his arms over his face. He lowered his arms as he looked over at Mike with a pale expression. He couldn’t hear anything over the tinnitus that stole his hearing.

  Mike got up on his hands and knees, coughing and trembling.

  Behind Mike, the entire rig started to shake. Steel support beams started to fall off as the pipe that ran along the center of the well twisted and ruptured. The wellbore seal exploded and shot a massive geyser of water and sand hundreds of feet into the air.

  The ground shook.

  Mike panicked and scrambled to his feet as he tried to run away.

  The ruptured pump next to Mike started to spew a back, gooey concoction out of the broken valve, slathering Mike with the tar-like substance.

  Mike tried to shield his face but he was covered in seconds. Undeterred, he kept running towards John.

  At first, it simply looked like oil, but then John noticed that the substance was moving on its own accord, sluggishly crawling up Mike’s body towards his face.

  Mike, finally realizing what was happening, became terrified and stopped running as he tried to swat and shake the substance off of his clothes and keep it away from his face.

  It was no use.

  John, confused and frightened, stood frozen and watched as the substance forced its way into Mike’s gaping mouth.

  The pump next to Mike erupted into a fireball and sent droplets of the black substance everywhere, splattering a few gawking onlookers nearby.