Chapter Three

“I CAN’T believe this shit is happening! We’ve been busting our asses for them for years, and they give us two weeks’ notice. Two weeks!”

“C’mon, Clay. That’s not fair. We discussed this last month, and we knew it was coming. Plus, this isn’t EOR’s fault. Oil prices plummeted. They can’t afford to keep operating at a loss.”

Clay continued to pace, stomping angrily across the hardwood floor. Elliott understood Clay’s frustration. Losing a job was scary as hell, but rather than bitching and groaning, they needed to sit down, look at their options, and calmly decide what they were going to do next. They couldn’t do that until Clay stomped out his anger. Elliott propped his feet up on the coffee table and waited.

It took a while, but after grabbing a couple of longnecks, Clay finally sat on the couch next to Elliott and handed him one of the beers.

“Thanks.”

“What a clusterfuck this is,” Clay grumbled. He popped the top on his bottle and drank half of it down in one gulp. “What the hell are we going to do, Elliott? The crap pay we’re going to get isn’t enough to pay our bills.”

“Well, the way I see it, we only have one choice and that’s to move south. Not like there is going to be any work around here. You mark my word, Dickinson will be a virtual ghost town in six months when our unemployment pay runs out—”

“I don’t want to move south,” Clay snapped. “We had plans, goddammit. Work hard now and retire early. We had plans! What will we do about the property?”

A few years back, Clay’s grandpa passed away, leaving ten acres and a battered fishing cabin to Clay, his brother Arlis, and cousin Genny. Neither Arlis nor Genny were interested in the old log cabin, so Clay had bought them out. Or rather Elliott and Clay had pooled their savings and bought the property as an investment into their future.

Elliott opened his beer and took a sip. “We don’t need to do anything with it, Clay. It’s paid for and I’m sure we can get a decent enough job to keep up the property taxes. Besides, with everything going belly-up around here, we couldn’t sell it for what we paid for it. I don’t think it’s wise to rush into anything right now.”

Clay tipped his beer up and downed the rest of it. He then laid his head back on the couch and blew out a heavy breath. “Just sucks, ya know? And it’s not just us I’m worried about. What’s going to happen to Ms. Kahn and the Rogers?”

“It does suck, and I suppose they are going to have some tough decisions to make just like us.”

Ms. Kahn owned the local diner and the Rogers ran the general store; it had been in their family for generations. However, with the rigs shutting down, the people would leave and along with them, the money. It didn’t just suck, it was so fucking unfair Elliott wanted to scream and rage. So many good people having to pull up stakes, some losing everything they had, a good town becoming a thing of the past. The world revolved around capital—supply and demand. Right or wrong, a strong history or the quality of the people wasn’t part of the equation.

Clay turned his head and met Elliott’s gaze. “I don’t want to move unless it’s to Papa’s cabin. I want the future we planned for, worked our balls off for. The future we deserve.”

Elliott moved closer until they were shoulder to shoulder. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Clay’s lips, then sat back and held Clay’s somber gaze. “Okay, so let’s move to the cabin.”

“And then what?” Clay asked, sounding as sad as he had every right to be.

“Hold on.” Elliott got to his feet. He rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a couple more beers from the fridge and a pad of paper and pen from the drawer. When he returned, he set the beers down on the coffee table and slid to the floor between the table and couch. He patted the spot next to him. “C’mere.”

“What are we doing?” Clay asked. He moved to the spot Elliott indicated.

Elliott drew a number one at the top of the page. “Rent?”

“What?”

“Work with me here, Clay. What do we pay for rent each month?”

“Twelve hundred.”

Elliott wrote the figure down. He ran a line down the center of the page, splitting it into two columns. Over one he wrote bills, over the other, money coming in. They’d fulfilled their lease on the house long ago and only had to give the landlord a thirty-day notice and they’d be entitled to a full refund of their security deposit. He added two thousand beneath the coming in heading. “Okay, utilities.”

They spent the next hour going over their finances and enjoying a couple more beers. A plan formed in Elliott’s head, and he started getting excited about it. He was even able to get Clay to relax and pull a couple genuine smiles out of him. The situation they found themselves in wasn’t planned for and it certainly wasn’t ideal. But if nothing else, they were both good at adapting to change easily. They just needed a plan and a new goal to work for.

With all the figures on the notepad, Elliott tapped the paper with his pen, then set them both on the coffee table and grabbed his beer. “Well now we have a second option, but you’d have to give up your fancy electronics to pull it off.”

“What? Are you nuts?”

“I like nuts, but that’s beside the point. With the money we have, the money yet to come in, and our savings, we could spend a few bucks to make some changes to the cabin and we wouldn’t have to go back to work. We could retire now.”

“What kind of changes?”

“We’d have to go completely off grid. I’m talking no light bill, water bill, internet, cable, nothing.”

Clay’s eyes went wide. “Whoa, you mean like total mountain men, Stone Age kind of shit?”

“Simmer down. It’s not that extreme. No caves or hauling each other around by the hair. But we should grow our own veggies, hunt, fish, and prepare to be snowed in over the winter. Totally like mountain men. Strong, hardy, and self-sufficient.”

Clay picked at the label on his bottle. “I don’t know. It sounds a bit crazy.”

“Then it’s perfect for us. I’ve always said you were a bit crazy.”

“No, I’m nuts. You’re the one who’s crazy.”

“I’d toast to that if I had a beer,” Elliott chuckled and held up his empty bottle.

“I’ll grab us another one if you’ll order pizza,” Clay offered.

“Deal.”

Clay went to his feet. He grabbed Elliott’s cell from the shelf and tossed it to him before going to the kitchen. Elliott moved to the couch, his ass aching from the hard floor. He dialed the familiar number and ordered two large pizzas by the time Clay returned with the beers and a bag of chips. Clay sat on the couch, took a sip of his beer, then shoved a large handful of chips into his mouth. “Does this crazy idea of yours mean we’ll have to give up these luxuries?” He held up his beer and chips to indicate what he was referring to.

“No, you can have your comfort food. Now, pizza may be another issue. I don’t think they deliver to the wilderness.”

A sad expression crossed Clay’s face, and he wiped his hand over his mouth. “Poor Tony will probably go out of business, won’t he? He’s run that pizzeria for over twenty years. Any chance we may be overreacting, Elliott? I mean, oil prices could go back up, couldn’t they?”

Elliott shook his head. “I mean, sure, oil prices could go up, and I suppose anything is possible. But I’m 99.9 percent sure it won’t happen in time to save Dickinson. Emmerson and DeWitt have already folded. It’s only a matter of time before our town does too.”

Clay was quiet for a long time. The only sound he made was the munching of his chips. Finally, he nodded, looking dejected but resolved. “Okay, so what do we do next?”

“I was thinking since we have the day off tomorrow, we head up to the cabin and see exactly what we’re going to need and get some measurements.”

“I’m in. What do you need measurements for?”

“For all the stuff were going to need to get the place livable. I’m talking solar panels, a system for water, because I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be going out to take a shit in the dead of winter in an outhouse.”

“Yeah, I’ll pass.”

The cabin was in great shape, made from hundred-year-old logs and with a nice metal roof that should be good for many years to come. However, Clay’s papa had used it for short fishing trips, mainly in the summer. He’d never bothered setting it up with electricity or running water. Those were two things Elliott simply refused to live without.

There was a knock on the door. Elliott pushed off the couch. “I say for tonight we enjoy some pizza, beer, and a good movie and worry about all the details tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me.” Clay smiled and shoved another handful of chips into his mouth.

Elliott went to get the pizza. He was glad to see Clay had calmed down. Elliott was feeling much better himself and was looking forward to going to the cabin. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more excited he got. With the way he and Clay worked, they usually saw each other in passing. It would be great to spend an entire day together.

A FEELING of nostalgia overtook Clay as they drove down the tree-lined road. He’d taken this country ride numerous times as a child. He could remember barely being able to see over the dash of his papa’s old truck the first time he’d come here alone with the old man. Clay had been five, maybe six. Usually it was a family thing, but that time it had been just him and Papa. His older brother and cousin would rather stay in the city with their friends, and neither of them was a fan of roughing it or fishing. Clay loved it. He always had. It was the main reason he’d been quick to buy Arlis and Genny out. He was the only one who truly appreciated the property and cabin. Now it was going to be his and Elliott’s home.

He pulled up next to the porch and cut the engine. “Home sweet home.”

“I don’t know about the sweet part,” Elliott commented, staring out the window.

Clay scanned the house and yard. Elliott was right. It didn’t look very sweet. Not only because of the rustic look of the hand hewed logs that made up the cabin, but also because the porch that ran the length of the structure was sagging, one of the front windows was cracked, and the forest and weeds were attempting to reclaim the property. With the way he and Elliott had been working, it had been over a year since they’d last visited the place. Clay could only imagine what nightmares might be waiting for them inside.

Clay stepped out of the car and headed up the porch stairs. The old wood creaked and protested. A loose board near the door started to give way, and Clay quickly adjusted his step. “We’re going to have one hell of a long list of projects to do.”

Elliott nodded, looking a little freaked out.

Clay unlocked the door and walked in, instantly assaulted with the stench of mold and decay. The stale air and stifling heat inside the cabin intensified the odor.

“Holy shit it reeks in here,” Elliott exclaimed as he pushed past Clay. “Help me get these windows open.”

Clay went in the opposite direction and opened the two windows on the left while Elliott opened the other two on the right. The furnishings had been replaced sometime in the 90s but had come from an old friend of his papa and were probably twenty years old when he got them. The olive-green and gold plaid screamed seventies. Everything in this room had to go.

The heat and stench were worse in the kitchen. Something was definitely decaying, but it wasn’t earth. It smelled like death. Elliott covered his nose and mouth with his hand. “What the fuck is that smell?” He gagged and coughed, barely able to get the words out.

“Smells like something died.” Clay started opening cupboards and drawers, looking for the source of the malodor. Elliott continued to gag and cough while opening the windows and back door. Poor Elliott had a supersensitive nose and stomach. Silly man at one time thought of becoming a crime scene investigator. A difficult job for someone with a weak stomach. Thankfully, Elliott had chosen another career. Puking investigators probably weren’t widely sought after.

Clay opened the door under the sink and found the culprit of the stink—the decomposing carcass of an opossum. Luckily it was so advanced that it was well past the maggot stage or it would have tripped his puker and certainly sent Elliott to the edge. Clay hated maggots and creepy crawlers in general.

“Found it, but I’m going to need a shovel for this job,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“I don’t even want to know,” Elliott responded. He slipped out onto the back porch.

Clay followed. His eyes were burning and watering, and he could use the fresh air.

Elliott leaned against the railing, head down and his breathing harsh.

“You going to puke?”

“Trying not to here,” Elliott gritted out.

Clay stood next to him and ran a soothing hand up and down Elliott’s back while looking out over the property. The sun glinted off the river, barely visible through the thick blanket of trees. The sound of rushing water filled the air. The rapid current of the river made for great fly fishing, and Clay couldn’t wait to get down to the stone-lined water and check it out.

“I hope you’re not having second thoughts already. It may stink in there, but it’s stunning out here.”

Elliott blew out a long breath and lifted his head. He was a little pale, his eyes glassy, but it appeared the immediate upchucking crisis had passed. “Nah, I knew it was going to be a shit-ton of work, but holy fuck, I didn’t expect that nasty stench.”

“It was pretty rank,” Clay chuckled. He bumped his shoulder against Elliott’s. “Nothing a little elbow grease and bleach can’t fix.”

“Yeah, well unless you want another nasty mess to clean up, I suggest you get rid of the stinky critter in there and air the place out before you expect me to go back in there.”

“All right. You unload the car and go collect some water, and I’ll see what I can do about freshening up the place.”

Clay did his best to clean the cabin. An hour later it was still a mess, but at least it smelled better, and the spider population had taken a serious hit. Clay was sweeping the hardwood floor when Elliott joined him in the kitchen.

“Safe to come in?” he asked, sniffing from the doorway.

Clay laughed. “Yup, not a single carcass, but there may be a mouse turd or two I missed.”

Elliott wrinkled his nose. “We made sure not to leave so much as a bread crumb last time we were here. What would lure them in here?”

“My guess would be the cold North Dakota winter. I found a few places where they chewed through near the foundation. We’re going to have to do some patchwork to keep them from getting in again. But considering how long this place sat empty, it could have been worse.”

Elliott frowned and waved his hand in front of his face. “I don’t know what could possibly be worse than the smell that greeted us.”

“We could have had a big grizzly stake his claim.”

“Okay, you’re right. That totally would have been worse.” Elliott pulled at his damp T-shirt. “I was going to go down to the river and rinse off. Want to come with?”

Clay leaned the broom against the counter and inched toward the door. “Last one there has to clean the outhouse.” He was out the door sprinting down the stairs before Elliott even made it to the porch.

“You’re a cheat!”

Clay dodged and weaved through the trees, branches pulling at his hair and scratching his arms, but he didn’t dare slow down. He so wasn’t cleaning that damn thing. From the sound of Elliott closing in fast, he wasn’t in the mood to do it either. Clay pushed himself harder. He jumped over a fallen log, dodged a low-hanging branch, and ran like hell for the water’s edge. Strong arms surrounded him, propelling him forward, and he and Elliott landed in the cool water at the same time. A tie. All thoughts of outhouse and scrubbing fled in the wake of laughter and trying to get the upper hand on Elliott.

There was a whole lot of cleaning that needed to be done, but it wasn’t all that important anymore. They had plenty of time to do it before they headed back to the city. Right now, the only thing that mattered was trying not to drown from laughing while they rolled around in the rushing river. Having fun and spending time with Elliott was even more important.