Fracked Read Free

officer wearing a black tactical uniform and toting a semi-automatic assault rifle walked up to the driver-side door. He had a thin mustache and a clear, coiled earpiece inside his right ear.
    Another security officer stood a few yards away with a Rottweiler on a leather leash.
    The Rottweiler was snarling and barking furiously, tugging and pulling against the leash as the security officer struggled to maintain control.
    “Come on, you know the deal already,” the security officer with the mustache said as he looked inside the van, motioning with his hand. “Rápido!”
    The Hispanic workers inside the van took their weathered Triburton IDs out of their wallets and handed them to the guard.
    John sighed, took out his ID, handed it up front to the driver, and then looked at Mike.
    Mike looked confused.
    “Your ID,” John whispered to Mike.
    Mike pulled out his wallet and fished his ID card out of the slot. He passed it to the driver who then passed it off to the security guard.
    The guard examined each ID carefully with a small UV flashlight. He stopped when he came across Mike’s ID and narrowed his eyes.
    “Mike Terrance?” the guard said as he looked up at Mike. “I don’t recognize the name or the face.”
    “Today’s my first day, sir,” Mike said rather cheerfully.
    The guard studied Mike and grunted as he handed the IDs back to the driver.
    “Good luck with that,” the guard said. He stepped back and motioned the K-9 officer over.
    The K-9 officer walked the Rottweiler around the perimeter of the vehicle, letting the dog sniff it.
    The driver of the van handed everyone back their IDs.
    Satisfied, the K-9 officer stepped back and pulled the Rottweiler away from the van.
    “All clear!” the K-9 officer shouted.
    He twirled his finger in the air towards the guard standing in the shack.
    The gate buzzed and rolled open along its dusty track.
    The driver of the van rolled up the window and took off down the road.
    “Puta,” the driver sneered as he turned the music back up.
    The Hispanics snickered.
    “Is security always this strict?” Mike asked as he put his ID back into his wallet.
    John shrugged.
    “Yeah, but they don’t really do much except posture around the gate,” John explained. “I guess it keeps people from trying to run off with tools.”
    “That was some serious hardware they were packing,” Mike said as he turned and looked out the back window.
    “Well, they haven’t been known to spare any expenses when it comes to protecting their toys.”
    The van pulled into a dirt parking lot and came to a stop next to a fleet of identical vans.
    The doors opened and the Hispanics hurried outside. They adjusted their boiler suits and put on their scuffed hardhats as they talked to each other in Spanish.
    “This is it kid,” John said as he put on his hardhat, opened the door and stepped outside. He squinted as he stared up towards the blinding sun.
    It was already scorching and it wasn’t even close to noon.
    He knew it was going to be another long, hot, humid day.
    Mike crawled out of the van, put on his hardhat, and stared at the rig with awe.
    The rig towered high into the sky and sat on a massive pad. The pad was interconnected with paved roads and surrounded by massive pumps and water trucks. A long warehouse sat at the edge of the pad and was full of pallets, barrels of chemicals, and hoses. Power lines were strung haphazardly all across the compound and there were numerous industrial floodlights pointed up towards the rig. There were three reservoir tanks next to the site and a fourth tank was in the process of being built. People scurried all around the site as they hauled goods and ran hoses.
    At the edge of the parking lot there was a brand-new F-250 pickup truck sitting next to a doublewide trailer adorned with the Triburton logo. The trailer had multiple air conditioners along its roof and an array of satellite dishes and antennas.
    At the top of the rig, three flags were proudly