Fracked Read Free Page A

hoisted; one United States of America flag, one Texas flag, and one flag with the Triburton logo on it.
    The air was hazy with diesel fumes and had a strong chemical aroma.
    Mike watched as a steady stream of workers funneled past a time clock that was mounted on a telephone pole. They each punched in their PIN numbers before starting work.
    John slapped Mike on the back as he walked past, startling the kid.
    “Don’t stand there gawking all day,” John said. “Go see the site foreman and get your PIN so you can clock in.” He paused, grinning. “Unless you want to work for free that is.”
    “Where’s he at?” Mike asked, looking around the massive site.
    John pointed at the trailer.
    “In the only place with air conditioning of course,” John said as he walked off. “See you around, kid.”

Chapter 2
     
    Tracy Walton was a pasty, portly man with a fat face and a belly that hung over his oversized golden belt buckle. He was balding but tried to keep his poor attempt at a comb over hidden underneath a Stetson cowboy hat. Years of smoking and harsh sun wrinkled his face and made him look like a man nearing sixty rather than forty. He had on a white dress shirt, a simple black tie, black jeans, and pointy cowboy boots.
    He was sitting behind a massive oak desk that was covered with scattered papers and open files. A sleek laptop sat on the corner of his desk next to a phone.
    The rest of the trailer was sparsely decorated with a few company posters and an artificial tree. The tree sat in the corner of the room next to a water cooler, a mini-fridge, and a microwave. Unopened boxes were stacked along the side of the room and were covered with dust.
    Even though he was sitting right next to the air conditioner, he was still sweating.
    The phone rang.
    He tossed the expense reports that he was flipping through aside and picked up the receiver.
    “Walton,” he said curtly as he wiped the sweat off of his brow with a stained handkerchief.
    “ Mr. Walton, this is Anderson from the yard. Sir, my men were moving some of the stuff left behind from the wellbore construction team. I noticed that a lot of the steel surface casings are rusted out. At first I didn’t think much of it, but then I noticed the same thing with a bundle of leftover intermediate casings .”
    Tracy rolled his eyes and adjusted his hat.
    “Well why the heck are you bothering me about it now? The riggers are long gone so we can’t exactly fix anything of that nature!”
    There was a pause on the other end.
    “ Well if the casings are shot there may be a groundwater contamination issue. I was thinking that you’d like to know before we start pumping today. Another layer of cement might be enough to fix the issue. ”
    Tracy’s face reddened.
    “You’re not paid to think, Anderson! You’re paid to supervise the scrapyard workers and make sure none of those little shits take off with anything! If we call back the riggers it will take time. When they pour the cement that means we have to wait for it to cure, taking up even more time. We’re already behind schedule on this job!”
    “ Sir, I didn’t mean any disrespect. I simply wanted to inform you ,” Anderson quickly replied.
    “Yeah? Well I’m informed. A little seepage never hurt anybody. If you’re so concerned, be like everyone else in this shithole and drink bottled water. Don’t bother me about this again!” Tracy shouted.
    He slammed the receiver down and shook his head.
    “Suddenly everyone’s a damn environmental scientist,” Tracy muttered as he picked up the expense reports and started scrutinizing them again.
    Someone knocked on his trailer door.
    “Come in,” Tracy said without looking up from his papers.
    Mike opened the door, took off his hardhat and walked into the trailer.
    “What do you want?” Tracy asked disinterestedly, eyes glued to the papers.
    “Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m new. I need my PIN number so I can clock in and I was told to come