The Sanitation Business - Ch 1
Chapter One
Working as a cleaner or, as my father says it, “Sanitation, Son!” has it’s pros and cons. For one, if you’re not one who likes dirt, dust, mud and muck, this career isn’t for you. If you are afraid of creepy crawlies and the occasional wild animal, this isn’t for you. If you have a general interest in people, this career isn’t for you. But if you can get past the aforementioned things, you may like the “sanitation business, son!”
You see, I’m an introvert—always was. Now, contrary to popular belief, not all introverts are shy, especially not me. I simply like to be alone, which is why I love the sanitation business. The pros of the business are flexible hours, working alone and, if you enjoy tuning the world out with good music or an audiobook, the job is perfect.
Cleaning was in my blood from childhood. You see, my father founded Terry and Son cleaning before he’d even had a son (me) because he knew that it would imply that he was trustworthy enough to go into people’s homes and businesses. I mean, would you prefer some creep with no kids peaking beneath your bed when you’re not around? Right! Of course not. Anyway, I say all of that to say this, at the time that this story takes place, I was finally “old enough to take the reins.” My father, bless his heart, gave me the keys to a three stories building that we were contracted to clean. Part of me believed that his old knees wouldn’t allow him to climb up the three flights of stairs and that’s why he gave me the keys, but I tried to have a little faith in old Pops.
I arrived at Capital Tractors & Machinery around 1am. A moody blue moon hid behind gloomy, grey clouds, the kind that a werewolf would love to howl at. I paused for a moment and looked up at this sulky sky and wondered, with a deep sigh, why the hell I chose to clean this dump right now, instead of doing it in the morning. The place wouldn’t open until next month, but we had a week to get it nice and clean before workers began setting up. On the tour earlier that week the foreman told us that the building had been vacant for a few years so we’d definitely have our work cut out for us. The good news was, or so he said, was that it was pretty much empty and we were getting paid to dust, dust mop, and mop. I looked at the large, bronze key that was pressed between my thumb and forefinger. “I remember now.” Old Pop was a busy body and, although he said I could do it alone, Lord knows that he’d pack up and try to join me if I allowed him to sit on that decision.
I put the key in the door and turned it. I couldn’t see through the windows for the fog, but I did watch the large lock swing in the gap of the twin doors. I pulled the door open and took a step so small that if someone were behind me they’d think I hadn’t moved at all. The place was dark, so I pulled my phone out and touched the flashlight icon. Light sprayed before me, allowing me to see a switch that was covered by a large cockroach. I walked briskly toward the switch, talking to the roach in a polite voice that was solely used for times when I was in great fear. I was scared of the roach, sure, but that wasn’t all. I was scared of the dark also, or, whatever I felt was in this dark place.
A buzzing, all-too bright light switched on, blinding me for a moment. “Jesus H Christ!” I hissed, stumbling. My left hand reached for the wall as my other hand shielded my eyes from the light. Blinking rapidly to regain normality with the old seers, I felt something like a looped fish line beneath my palm. “What the?”
My knees nearly touched my chest as I jumped in fright. A God damn roach had hidden from the light under my hand. “This damn place is a dump!” I yelled.
No sooner than the words escaped my lips, my father’s ever present voice said “you get paid green money to clean dumps, boy.”
“Sure, Pop.” I said to the inner voice. “I guess you’re right.” I already had my cleaning belt on so, without further ado, I began cleaning the nearest thing to me, which was a large dining room. I could see inside this room because there were windows, four of them, that gave one a full view into this room. In fact, the entire front of the building had these windows, allowing whomever was inside to see not only the parking, but the train tracks that they had to drive over to get to the building.
I was leaning over one of the circular tables in the kitchen, giving it the Mr. Miyagi treatment when something told me to look up. Through one of the less foggy windows I could see a shape moving toward the building. My heart sank. Who the hell would be walking out here at this time of night?
I watched from this position, stiff as a board and holding my breath. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised If my ticker had stopped ticking, I was that scared. It was a man, a tall one. He walked as though led by his hips, his upper half following him as though it were a lazy parasite. His arms were long, limp noodles that swung together, instead of in stride . My first instinct was to hit the lights, but I was terrified that If I did it would draw attention to the building. I had a thought.. a terrifying one.
This building is the only one nearby for at least three miles. What if..“No.” I whispered to myself. “No way. No Goddamn way.” Why’d Pop let me come here alone? I’m sixteen. Not twenty-six! Just my luck! The one day that he doesn’t wake when I sneak out. These thoughts weren’t helping. I thought about making a run for the car. I was fast and, if I were quick with the key, I could be backing out before the creep got to the parking lot.
“Damn, he’s moving like a moth to a flame.” I dug in my pocket as I pulled away from the table. Empty. Oh, no. Oh, no. The keys were in the door. The man.. the thing.. he was in the lot now, moving with his un-human gate.
To be continued..