Abandoned

by Jay Harez

  Abandoned

  By

  Jay Harez

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2014, Jay Harez

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover art

  By

  Rochelle Contreras

  Preface

  Several years ago I traveled to south Louisiana to visit with the maternal side of my family - The City of New Iberia to be specific. As always the food was great and I had a really good time with my aunts and cousins.

  I like to roam the seedier parts of cities I visit and soon found myself outside a dilapidated juke-joint on Hopkins St. trying to determine where to go. I was clearly out of place.

  An old man sitting on an ice chest hailed me with ‘you lost young buck?’ I told him I wasn’t but I hadn’t decided where I wanted to go yet. He asked me what I did for a living and I told him I write horror stories. He gave me a look then asked me a really good question: ‘Do you write real horror stories or just make shit up?’

  I apparently took too long to answer and he looked at the ground shaking his head.

  ‘I’ll tell you what. You get me a couple of forties and I’ll tell you what happened to me when I was nigh-on twenty or so year old. We’ll see if you got the balls to write that.’

  I got the two beers and he introduced himself as Tee-neg. I later found out that his name was the Creole abbreviation of the French words ‘Petite Negro’ or ‘little nigger’. That part has nothing to do with this story but I thought it would be fun to share.

  Enjoy!

  -Jay

  LOTTO

  “What do ya’ know ya’ half-possum bastard?” Al Guilbeaux asked.

  It was a common description for the miners of mixed heritage and Guilbeaux routinely started conversations like this. Over the years he had found an equal when it came to verbal salvos in William Sotolongo.

  Sotolongo had only taken a few steps inside the cafeteria when he was assailed with the greeting. Sotolongo made his way to the buffet style serving table and begin to prepare his plate while he deliberated on his response.

  As the two men’s routine had developed, the responses had become more elaborate and entertaining for the other men eating in the mine cafeteria. A few of the miners stopped their conversations to in anticipation of this morning’s exchange.

  “Last night I dreamt of a splendid thing,” Sotolongo said as he carefully cut two biscuits in half horizontally. He then ladled gravy onto the four halves and made his way toward the coffee pot.

  “Splendid huh?” Guilbeaux

  “Oh my friend it was quite the dream. I stood out in a field looking toward the heavens,” Sotolongo continued. More of the salt miners stopped their conversations to follow along.

  “And what did your marsupial brain divinate during this…vision quest?” Guilbeaux was going all out.

  Sotolongo made his way to the table and sat across from Guilbeaux.

  “I was at a hot air-balloon show.” Sotolongo said as he folded a pancake in half and dipped it in his coffee.

  “The hell you say!” Guilbeaux countered.

  Sotolongo took a bite of the soggy cake while the concept of him being at a hot-air balloon show sank in, then he continued.

  “I looked skyward and beheld a large, bisected, balloon. Whiter than the Baton Rouge Country Club,” Sotolongo said.

  “Did he say bisected?” Vincent Demarco asked to no one in particular.

  “Really?” Guilbeaux asked grinning from ear to ear in anticipation of what was to come.

  “Then it got strange. You, see, I realized I was awake, and what I was seeing was the reflection of your wife’s giant ass, in the mirror, on the ceiling, above my bed.” Sotolongo concluded.

  The entire room burst out in peals of laughter. Sotolongo and Guilbeaux just stared at each other grinning conspiratorially. They had provided the morning's entertainment. It usually meant the start of a good day.

  Tyonne Leger entered the cafeteria. The laughing men didn’t notice him until he reached the table reserved for management and took his seat.

  Millicent, the mine cook, scurried out from behind the counter moments later with a plate holding a steak, two fried eggs, two strips of bacon and hash browns. In the other hand she held a thermos of coffee. Tyonne looked at her and gave her a wink as she placed the food and beverage on the table.

  Tyonne was a married man and had been for almost twenty years. However, it was long rumored that he and Millicent were having an affair. People in small towns mind their own business and there was seldom much discussion on the topic. It was just accepted.

  Today was a rare occasion. Both day and night shifts had been called together in the cafeteria. There were at least sixty men crowded into the room and speculation as to the purpose of the meeting was rampant. The mine was for all intents and purposes, shut down for the time being. In addition to that rarity – meaning it had never happened before – the company had offered free breakfast because the meeting was mandatory. The meeting was set to start in half an hour so Tyonne finished his breakfast at a leisurely pace for a miner and then stood up to address the room.

  “As some of you may have heard, the President of these United States, Jimmy Carter himself, has seen fit to finance an exploration of exhausted shafts in pursuit of new and renewable fuel sources.” Tyonne the foreman said.

  The men gathered in the cafeteria looked at him with varying degrees of interest. Some watched intently while others shook their head at the idea.

  “Don’t he know if there was something of value down there the company would have told us to get it?” Lloyd Dougette, Sr. asked.

  His son, Lloyd Dougette, Jr. snickered. Not at his father of course, but at the stupidity of the company.

  Lloyd Sr. and Tyonne had a special rapport because they had served in Korea together. They had known each other since they were boys and that forty plus year friendship had held up. Neither of them considered anything the mine threw their way a serious problem.

  “Lloyd, as per usual you bring clarity to the situation. However, there are extenuating circumstances – several hundred thousand of them to be specific,” Tyonne said and paused for effect. The collected men chuckled.

  They had all read about the Surface Mining Control and Reclamation Act of 1977 and they had also read that each completed survey submitted by the deadline was worth three-hundred thousand dollars to the company regardless of the findings, courtesy of Uncle Sam.

  “Now because the government is not willing to take our word when it comes to the authenticity of said survey they have sent in an expert.” Tyonne pointed to a younger man sitting near the coffee maker. The kid - in his early twenties at most had sat so quietly that no one had really taken note of his presence.

  Tyonne continued “This here is Jean-Lee Pirogue the Third...”

  “What makes this kid an expert?” Lloyd Sr. asked looking at the young man skeptically.

  “He’s got college.” Tyonne responded. The men all turned and looked with interest at the young man. Some let out low sarcastic whistles, a few ‘holy shits’ and ironic ‘God a’mighties’ were heard.

  “Alright, alright don’t act like a bunch a cured-brain idgits what never seen a college graduate. Now we get to the interesting part, the deadline. This survey must be submitted no later than the first business day of the second week of September,” Tyonne stopped to let that sink in.

  “Isn’t that the day after Labor Day?” Lloyd Jr. said aloud without thinking.

  “Yes, young Lloyd it is, and being it is Wednesday the fir
st, this survey is taking place over the Labor Day weekend,” Tyonne said.

  The men shuffled in their seats, some spat into spittoons, and others verbalized their objections.

  Tyonne held up his hand to silence the grumblings of the crew.

  “this is bullshit”

  “fuck this”

  “a man should be with his family”

  “no way man, no way”

  Tyonne waited longer than he thought he should have then continued.

  “Now listen up! This is not a debate, discussion or a fucking democracy!”

  The ferocity of the response was not expected. The men instinctively knew that whatever they were about to hear was going to be an order versus and offer.

  The room went silent but the tension hung in the air. It was 1977 and South Louisiana during a recession was not the place to be unemployed.

  The men resented the hold the company had on them and this town. The Months Bay Salt Mine had provided steady revenue and work for the residents since it opened following World War II.

  The second generation of miners was already working side by side with some of the men who had seen it open and the jobs were highly sought after.

  Anyone who worked the mine more than a year was virtually guaranteed a bank loan for a house. A house guaranteed a wife which meant family and family was central to the community and therefore very important to the businesses that had helped make the small town grow.

  Lloyd Dougette, Sr. considered the homemade bowl of gumbo going cold in front of him. He never had the knack for cooking his wife had. To his mind he never got the rue right.

  Since she passed three years ago it had just been him and Lloyd, Jr. He had made due as best he could and according to those that knew his son, he had done a fair-to-middling job of raising him alone. His thoughts were interrupted by a shouted question.

  “So who are you making do this shit?” Preet Stain asked louder than was prudent.

  All of the grumbling stopped as Tyonne took a moment to pull out a purple Crown Royal bag. Tyonne loved Crown Royal whiskey and hoarded the purple velvet bags it came in.

  “The only way to be fair is to leave this up to chance…” Tyonne paused for more grumbling, “…so we’re gonna draw lots.”

  Both the Dougette’s queued up to draw a chit. Several men were ahead of Preet, who was ahead of Lloyd Jr. who was in front of Lloyd, Sr. followed by many more men.

  “There’s no fucking way I’m spending my three-day weekend under,” Preet said over his shoulder.

  Lloyd Jr. knew Preet wasn’t talking to him, Preet was speaking to his father. It wasn’t a slight in any way, it was just a sign of respect for his father.

  Lots of the men respected Lloyd Sr. Apart from being a ‘Senior Man’ - having tenure - he had put in his years in the mine without incident, officially. Unofficially, according to mine lore, Lloyd Sr. had been put in situations that obligated him to pummel more than one man until he and they reached an understanding. Lloyd Jr. watched the exchange with both love and respect for his father.

  “You haven’t drawn a chit yet,” Lloyd Sr. responded without offering support or argument.

  “I’m saying you won’t find me under this weekend,” Preet replied.

  “You havin’ an emotion back there Preet?” Tyonne said loud enough so that everyone in line could hear him.

  The men ahead of Preet turned to look at him, as Preet turned red with rage and embarrassment.

  “The only thing I have is a chance at gettin’ fucked out of my goddamn three-day weekend!” Preet responded.

  A few men shuffled their feet and looked at the floor. Tyonne stopped handing out the chits for a minute and put down the purple bag. He stepped from behind the table reserved for management and walked down the line to stand a few feet from Preet. The two men were of almost equal build. Preet had an inch or two height advantage which gave him a little additional reach but Tyonne was heavier with muscle weight.

  Lloyd Jr. instinctively stepped back a few paces. His father stepped aside to let him pass then stepped forward to replace his son in the queue. The swap went unnoticed by all but Tyonne.

  Lloyd Jr. looked around the gray cafeteria with a new perspective. He had seen plenty of dust-ups among the miners. It happened to any group of men confined together for long periods of time. Usually those bouts happened in the yard near the trucks.

  The yard was a wide, open area usually dappled with mud and small puddles of standing water. At that moment Lloyd Jr. realized just how small the cafeteria was. It only needed to accommodate twenty men at a time depending on the shifts but with the entire crew present, the square footage allotted per man was sparse.

  Tyonne looked Preet in the eye as Preet’s face turned a darker shade of red verging on purple.

  “You open your ears good and wide now boy,” Tyonne turned his back on the taller man. It was clear he was saying Preet posed no threat as far as he was concerned.

  “This goes for all of you, if your name is drawn and you don’t show up you have torn your drawers with this organization. Do not come back here. Your final check will be mailed to you and if you are found on company property afterwards you will be prosecuted for trespassing. The good news is that if your name is drawn you may have a coworker stand in for you,”

  Preet slipped his right hand around his waist and inched his hand toward the four-inch filet knife sheathed there. Lloyd Sr. watched stoically as Preet slid the blade out of its horizontal sheath. Lloyd Jr. tensed in anticipation.

  Before Preet could bring the blade around Lloyd Sr. grabbed Preet’s arm just above the elbow. Lloyd Jr. heard the sharp intake of breath as his father’s thumb depressed the nerve there and ground it against the bone.

  Tyonne turned around at the noise.

  “Preet, I seriously question your judgment. Imagine if you had assaulted me on commercial property in front of sixty or so witnesses. How many holidays with your family would miss while you’re locked up in Angola Federal?” Tyonne asked.

  “Shit son, you haven’t even drawn your chit yet. Were you planning to do me mortal injury on the off chance you’d have to work at your job?” Tyonne asked.

  Preet was crestfallen. He had never been accused of having overt intelligence and this was just another reminder that he wasn’t smart. He was big and strong and loved his wife and kids but prone to short-sightedness and acting on impulse. For the most part though, he was considered a good worker.

  “Sorry boss, I only planned to stick you a little,” Preet said as he studied the floor intently. Muffled laughter was heard throughout the cafeteria. Preet relaxed and Lloyd Sr. released his grip on his arm. Tyonne looked past Preet and gave a slight nod to Lloyd Sr.

  “I’ll volunteer,” said a woman from the back. She was Eleanor Andemarian, and with the exception of Millicent the only woman present and the only woman employed of Month’s Bay.

  “Well Eleanor I appreciate you volunteering but…” Tyonne started but his statement was drowned out by the approving shouts of the men.

  “She’s volunteerin’ ass-hole”

  “Let the bitch earn”

  “You know what? Ya’ll are right, Eleanor you’re on,” Tyonne said to the sounds of whistles and scattered applause. “Anyone else want to volunteer?” he asked.

  The room was silent as Tyonne returned to his table and continued distributing the chits.

  Each one was numbered and each man reached in the bag and drew his own. The process took almost an hour and when it was over everyone stood around mentally planning for the worse. The door to the cafeteria opened and Santi Bernhard entered bleary-eyed and walking uncertainly.

  “What the fuck is this?” Santi asked.

  “This is a mandatory meeting,” Tyonne said through clenched teeth.

  “Glad I came then,” Santi responded in all sincerity.

  Everyone chuckled and watched as he made his way to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup. Santi was a notorious drunk. He had neve
r had an on-the-job incident but his attendance was as bad as his drinking. He shuffled away from the coffee pot with a full cup and dropped into the nearest chair. He took a sip of his coffee and noticed the room’s eyes on him.

  “Well shit man, meet,” Santi said.

  “Would you do us the honor of getting off your ass and drawing a chit from the bag?” Tyonne said disgustedly.

  “Is this a lotto or something?” Santi said as he stood and meandered toward Tyonne and the outstretched purple bag.

  “Yeah,” Tyonne said with a newly acquired poker face.

  “It’s about time we started winning some prizes around this motha-fucka,” Santi said.

  Several newborn chuckles died under Tyonne’s gaze. Santi got his chit and took a new seat next to Lloyd, Sr.

  “Mili, will you come out here please?” Tyonne said loudly enough to be heard in the kitchen.

  Millicent came out of the swinging door of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. She stopped and looked at Tyonne expectantly. Tyonne produced a second purple bag, untied the gold braided rope and extended the bag to the cook.

  “If you would draw nine numbers please?” he asked her with the most kindness any of the men in the room had ever heard.

  “Okay,” Millicent said hesitantly.

  The drawing didn’t take long and at the end the guys who didn’t get drawn were subdued out of respect for those that had. The names were Roger Hillock and Warren Landry; both men usually worked the four-to-twelve shift, Marvin Geofferies, Sumner Cole, Evan George, Lloyd Jr., Vincent DeMarco, and Santi Bernard. With Eleanor, Pirogue and Tyonne that made eleven.

  THE BIG POT

  The Dougette’s reached their house midafternoon. This was another rarity and a logical ending to an already eventful day. Lloyd Jr. was excited about the prospect of going under. This would only be the second time since he had started at the mine three years ago that he would be under and his father not.

  “Papa what you gon’ do without me underfoot for three days?” Lloyd, Jr. asked.