My First Day On The Job At A Substation In Texas Was Nothing Short Of Terrifying

I was sitting in my one-bedroom apartment, fully clothed in my work outfit, save my boots. I sat on my couch, my stereo on and The Zombies’ voices and melodies were drifting out and filling up my living room, informing me the wonders of “Summer Time”. I was feeling skeptical about their outlook. My summer was not going so dandy thus far. I must’ve listened to 30 minutes of music, glancing from my boots to the windows or pacing back and forth on my carpet. After “Black Hole Sun”, I got up the nerve and put my boots on. I unplugged my Zune from the stereo and headed down to my truck. Over an hour later, and I was pulling up to the concrete box in the middle of nowhere.

There was Walter’s beat up Bronco, sitting in the dirt with the windows rolled down. I parked on the opposite side of the front of the building and made my way in. There was a tiny, round metal table in the reception room now, nestled right between the two chairs against the wall. On it was an issue of Auto Trader that looked older than me, and an issue of Maxim with a dark-skinned beauty on the cover and a tagline that read, “How To Turn your Love Life Into A Bond Film.” That actually seemed pretty timeless to me.

I made my way through the door to the break room, I saw Walter sitting at the table with his briefcase and a laptop opened in front of him. The laptop was so big, I wondered if Walter had managed to shove the heavy thing in his old leather briefcase, or if he’d just lugged the thing under his long, skinny arm. He looked over his thick bifocals at me, the computer screen shining blue light off of his horse-like face. He motioned for me to sit down opposite him at the break room table. I pulled the chair back and lazily took a seat.

“Nice laptop there, Walt,” I said sarcastically.

“Yessir’, gotta’ get with the times,” he answered. He waited a good minute before speaking again. “Well, I gotta’ say Billy, we’re gonna’ have to have a little talk about your work.”

“And we’re going to have a talk about how fucking creepy this place is,” I shot back, stonewalling him.

“Now son, there’s no need for that kind of language. I know this place can get a little spooky in those witching hours, but I’d have thought you could handle that. You can’t be shirking your walks, they’re vital to keeping this place running,” Walter droned on. I wanted to interrupt him the whole time, but I waited for the old-timer to get his point across.

“And what about the power outages? They keep happening, and it’s not at all random or normal. Then there’s the fog and the cold, and don’t let me forget, some tall pale bastard that I’ve seen twice now? Can you explain any of that?” I asked in rapid-fire mode.

“Well, I can tell ya’ the only tall pale fella’ around here is me,” he said with a hearty chuckle as he typed something on the laptop. The laugh died quickly when he saw I was not amused. “Look here, Billy. Sometimes being all alone in a place like this, especially havin’ to go down to that Endless Walk twice a night…it’ll make some men see things. Experience things that aren’t there. It’s nothing to be ashamed of…”

“I’m not seeing shit, Walter. I know it was real,” I interrupted him.

“Well now, if you say so. No offense meant, young fella’, but if it were up to me, we’d let you go right now,” Walter said as he dove his big ugly face into the computer screen. I scoffed but didn’t say anything. “But…I’ve spoken with the higher-ups at the main office and they’re interested in keeping you on. Heck, they actually want to give you a raise.”

I kept my stony demeanor, but I couldn’t help raise an eyebrow.

“They’re prepared to double your pay. And we’ll start you on full benefits next Monday. Tell me son, how does that sound?” Walter asked, pulling his glasses down and grinning those donkey teeth at me.

Now, before you judge me or anything, you have to understand I’m a pretty poor person. Financially speaking, that is. It’s always been that way, and at this point I don’t really worry about it. But my truck is expensive, my apartment is expensive, and I like to buy a lot of booze and green and records. So when the possibility to afford all of those things with increased ease was presented, I did not scoff again.

“I don’t know, Walter. This place isn’t right,” I trailed off, thinking hard between what had been going on the past two nights, and the numbers of double my already substantial pay. I know it’s not usually cool to talk about how much you get paid, but fuck it. My starting pay there was $15 an hour. Already pretty good. I couldn’t even imagine making $30 an hour. That was “a whole new life” money to me.

“Very well, young fella’, I guess…” Walter began to close his laptop as he spoke. I interrupted him again.

“I didn’t say ‘No,’ Walter. Look, I know this place is off, but I’ll stick it out, for now. But don’t think I’m blind to all this, Walt,” I said, leaning forward in my seat to look him square in the eyes.

Walter paused for a moment with a serious and almost guilty expression. Then he switched to a giant grin and leaned back in his seat as he laughed like there was no tomorrow. His laugh was like a hissing cat; wheezy as though he’d been a smoker since he was 5-years-old. Finally, his bellowing subsided and he spoke.

“Alright Billy, you do whatchu’ gotta’,” Walter said as he finished chuckling and closed his laptop. He placed it under his arm, grabbed his suitcase, and stood up out of his chair. “You just remember to make that walk on time. Don’t need any more malfunctions. Oh, and as a token from me to you, I left you a 20 by the phone. Feel free to get a pizza on me.”

Walter patted me on the shoulder with his cold, sweaty mitt and was quickly out the door. I listened to his Bronco cough to life then sputter down the road until all I heard was the faint buzzing of electricity. I sat there for a moment before going on into the security room. I turned my Zune on and started pumping tunes on low volume, as not to drown out any noises creeping up on me. I watched the monitors intently, waiting for the lights to flicker out or a mist to materialize and freeze everything in sight. But nothing happened. Minutes turned into hours, and not a single odd occurrence took place.

It was about 9:55 and I waited for Rod’s “Wake up Maggie” to finish before grunting out of my seat and heading for the elevator. I took the long ride down and tapped the clipboard against my leg in rhythm as I sang out loud. As the elevator “dinged” and arrived at the bottom, the door squeaked open and my voice echoed out into the Endless Walk, “You laughed at all of my jokes. My love you didn’t need to coax.” I walked out into the tunnel and let my singing trail off. Just being down there was putting me on edge, already.