Jens pulled into the parking lot directly under the only light pole and watched the drizzle sift through the sulfurous light. Jens took a deep breath, girding for the damp dash to a tiny metal door in the ancient brick building. Yesterday a memo arrived instructing him that all payroll tasks must be completed during the only eight hours that the line was not running and maintenance not being performed. Jens shuddered at the thought of being in the creaky old factory alone, then his stomach churned at the thought of being unemployed. Taking a deep breath he flipped the hood of his sweatshirt up and exited the car.
The metal door groaned and squealed in protest when Jens finally managed to get the key to turn in the lock. He pulled it tight behind him and turned to the ancient time clock outlined in the dim safety light. Everyone’s time cards were in a stack on shelf. Scooping them up, he rifled through to find his and listened to the k-thunk of the time clock reverberate across the factory floor announcing his presence. His office was on the second floor on the other side of the building. Normally, Jens would thread his way between busy line operators, greeting pals from high school as he passed. This time his footsteps echoed in counterpoint to the drip, drip, drip of water.
The machines towered over him, looming in from both sides. He jumped as his shoulder brushed a hose left dangling. Suddenly, a fan in the distant shadowy ceiling buzzed to life moaning at the effort. The dripping water got louder, matching in rhythm the sound of Jens heartbeat pounding in his ears. He took shallow breaths as he edged forward, clutching the stack of time cards. How far was it to the other side of the building?
The sound of metal hitting concrete filled the deserted factory floor. Jens froze. “Who’s there,” his voice quavered and echoed back, who’s there, who’s, dare, whose air.
Jens launched into a startled sprint, tumbling to the damp cement floor as he tripped over … was that a leg stretching out in the same blue coveralls that he wore from underneath the conveyor belt? Jens picked himself up and continued his desperate sprint to the back of the factory. The metal stairs clanged discordantly as he climbed. Jens chest heaved as he struggled to fit the key to the lock. He curled around the door, slamming it shut, and leaning against it closed his eyes in relief.
“Hello Jens,” a deep gravelly voice greeted him from behind his desk, “I’m glad you could make it to work today but now it’s time to punch out.”