Desperate Times

PUBLISHED BY:

Nicholas Antinozzi

Copyright © 2010 by Nicholas Antinozzi

Edited by Sue McInnis, MS

Cover Design by Steve Peterson

SMASHWORDS EDITION

The characters and events in this book are
fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is
coincidental and not intended by the author.

Black Friday
: The term originated on
Friday, September 24, 1869, when there was a failed attempt to
corner the gold market which caused investors to panic and the
stock market to plummet. While there have been a handful of Black
Fridays since that time, the largest single-day drop in the market
occurred on Monday, October 19, 1987. That day the stock market
shed nearly a quarter of its value. Generally, it is agreed that
Black Friday refers to Tuesday, October 29, 1929, the day investors
leapt from their skyscrapers, ushering in the Great Depression.

Those dates were just tune-ups for what was
about to come. Call it political correctness or dumb luck; Wall
Street would save its greatest tragedy for a Friday.

It was on that Friday morning that Jimmy
Logan sprinted from his Chevy pickup across the gravel parking lot
toward the long sheet metal building that housed Dahlgren
Industries. He’d overslept and was fifteen minutes late for his
shift. Over the past year, there had been a fifty percent reduction
in the workforce, which translated into a fifty percent increase in
responsibility. Last week there was a meeting over the importance
of attendance with special emphasis about being on time. With that
stuck in his mind, Jimmy hit the concrete sidewalk at a dead run,
clutching his shirt pocket with his right hand to keep his
cigarettes from flying out.

Jimmy paused at the employee entrance and
quickly composed himself. At thirty-two, he was still in his prime
and in good physical shape, despite the pack-a-day habit. He ran
his hands through his hair, took a deep breath and let it out
slowly. Jimmy sighed, then opened the door and walked inside the
brightly lit building where stout iron machines, painted battleship
gray, were already thumping away. Forklifts rumbled and the
overhead crane whined as it slid across the rails with a heavy
load. The familiar smell of burnt steel and cutting oil hung thick
in the air. Jimmy could feel the eyes of his co-workers upon him as
he rounded the corner of the shop and headed up the steps to the
time clock. He reached for his card in the bottom right slot where
he’d parked it for nearly ten years and found the slot empty.

“Jimmy, I need to see you in my office,”
beckoned the gravel voice of Ken Dahlgren.

Jimmy closed his eyes for a second and turned
to face the owner. Ken Dahlgren nearly filled the door. He was tall
and trim and one look at his hands told you that this man was close
to his work. Dahlgren was dressed in his usual business attire—blue
jeans, flannel shirt, and a battered pair of steel-toed work boots.
His face was grim. Jimmy nodded and followed Ken inside the double
doors into the upstairs offices. His heart was in his throat, but
he managed a smile and gave a quick wave to Ken’s wife, Patty, who
now ran the office by herself. Jimmy had known Patty nearly all his
life, and he didn’t like the look in her eyes when she returned the
wave.

The fact that Ken was leading him into his
private office only made him feel more apprehensive. Jimmy wondered
if he should apologize for being late and beat Ken to the punch.
Still, he didn’t think that being fifteen minutes late justified a
trip into the office. A visit there was usually to discuss a
serious problem in the shop, more than likely a mistake on your
part. And while Ken seldom raised his voice, his words carried a
lot of weight. Jimmy racked his brain, wondering if he’d screwed
something up. He didn’t think so, but he wasn’t absolutely
sure.

Ken’s small office was semi-organized chaos.
Two drafting tables held scattered reams of blueprints. The blinds
over the window on the far wall were closed. Ken’s laptop computer
sat open on his desk. Two mismatched steel chairs sat across from
it. “Take a seat, Jimmy,” Ken said, shutting the door before
settling in behind the cluttered desk and closing the laptop.
“There’s coffee in the pot,” he added, nodding his head to the
steel table behind Jimmy. “You might want a cup; this is going to
take a while. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Jimmy shook his head. Whatever Ken was going
to say he wanted it straight up. “What’s going on, Ken,” he asked,
trying to keep his voice steady. “Are you letting me go?” He
regretted saying that even before the words had left his mouth. He
sounded defensive.

Ken looked at Jimmy thoughtfully, and after a
brief hesitation he shook his head. “Don’t take this the wrong
way,” he said, a flicker of a smile playing at the corners of his
lips. “But I only wish it was something as trivial as that. The
truth is, Kid, this is it. We’re shuttin’ down.”

Jimmy was rocked back in his chair by the
impact of those words.

“Where the hell do I start?” asked Ken,
looking troubled. “Listen, your folks were like family to me and
Patty. You know that. At their funeral, I made a vow to them that
I’d look out for you. You’ve made that pretty easy; you’re a damn
good employee. But it’s more than that. We’re friends, right?”

Jimmy nodded and decided that he wanted that
cup of coffee after all. He didn’t like where this conversation was
headed. Ken knew full well that he didn’t like talking about this
subject. The wound was deep, and the scab had never healed. Jimmy’s
parents had been killed in a car accident nine years ago. Nine long
years and a day didn’t pass where he didn’t think about them. Jimmy
had already been working in the shop at the time when the sleeping
truck driver had jumped his rig across the median and crushed the
family sedan like an empty beer can. That had been a long time ago,
and while Jimmy would never get over the incident, he had learned
to cope. He carefully selected the cleanest of the dirty mugs and
poured himself a cup from the pot.

“I don’t suppose you caught the news this
morning?” Ken asked, sipping his own coffee from a battered steel
mug.

“No,” admitted Jimmy, shaking his head as he
returned to his chair.

“Have you been paying attention to the
economy? Do you know what’s going on out there?”

Jimmy didn’t know if Ken meant out in the
shop or if he was referring to out in the world. He thought Ken
meant the latter. “Yeah, I know what’s goin’ on. A lot of people
are out of work, and now half the town will be on unemployment.
We’re in a recession. I get it.”

Ken held up his hands. “Wait a minute. I
didn’t mean to put it that way,” he said, raising his eyes to the
ceiling as if asking God for a little help. “How can I put this?
Listen, Kid, things out there are a whole lot worse than anyone is
saying. The shit’s gonna hit the fan today. It’s already happening.
The dollar dropped twenty-five percent overnight, and the stock
market was down a thousand points five minutes after the opening
bell,” Ken then typed a few keys on his computer. After a moment
his face darkened. “Make that twenty-five hundred points, and the
market has only been open for twenty-six minutes. We’re running out
of time.”

While Jimmy understood precious little of the
workings of the stock market, he did understand numbers. These
didn’t sound very good at all. “Okay,” he said, setting his cup
down. “What the hell does that mean to us?”

“It means that barring a miracle, the wheels
are about to come off of this thing. I don’t believe in miracles.
I’ve been watching this for years. I knew that it was just a matter
of time,” Ken’s tone grew ominous. “Our entire system of government
was corrupted, and our economy has been running on smoke and
mirrors. Just look at the bailouts. Where do you think that bailout
money is right now? I’ll tell you—it’s in the bank accounts of
those crooked bastards who caused this mess in the first place. We
should’ve demanded heads when Wall Street crashed the economy, but
like the sheep we’ve become, we trusted our government to do the
right thing. They let this happen. No, they
made
this
happen. The fools just kept printing money.”

“All right, all right,” said Jimmy, who stood
up and began to pace. “What the hell are we supposed to do about
it?”

“We—and that means you and Paula—are heading
up to the lake this afternoon. We’ve got to get out of here while
we still can. Patty and I prepared for it the best we could. We’ve
laid in supplies and I think we have enough to last a year, if it
lasts that long.”

“It
?
What do you mean,
it
?”

“Unless I’m wrong—and trust me I’m not—the
dollar bill will be just about worthless by the end of the day.
Everything will shut down, plain and simple. The trucks will quit
running and the shelves in the stores are going to empty before you
know it. I just didn’t think it’d happen so fast. There’s a lot of
speculation that the government will declare martial law. I believe
them. We’ve got to get out of Dodge before that happens. Who
knows—they might get a handle on this thing in a few weeks, maybe
less, but don’t count on it. The treasury is empty,
bankrupt
, and it’s time to pay the piper.”

“Holy crap!” said Jimmy, rubbing his face
with both hands. He could feel perspiration beading up on his
forehead. Anyone else could’ve told him this and he would’ve told
them they were full of shit. Ken Dahlgren was a straight shooter;
he’d never share this information with Jimmy unless he absolutely
believed it were true. “What are we supposed to do, just walk away
from everything? How can I explain this to Paula? ‘Hey, pack your
stuff. The economy bit the big one and we’re going up to Ken’s lake
home today!’ Right, that’ll float like a lead balloon.”

“I can’t answer that for you, Kid. You’ve got
to drill it into her head that this is going be our only shot at
getting out. Look, hardly anyone planned for this. Those who didn’t
are going to have to do whatever it takes to feed their families.
Do you understand what that means? They’re going to want what we
have, and we’re going to need to protect ourselves from those
people. Tell her that. Tell her whatever she needs to hear, but
just make sure she understands that this is no joke.”

“We’ve invited Glen and Pete and their wives,
but that’s it. I know that’s probably not music to your ears, but
they’re good men once you get them away from this place. The checks
are ready; I paid everyone through five o’clock today. I’m going to
cut everyone loose so the rest of the crew can be with their
families. I’m also going to tell them what I just told you. They
can use that information however they see fit. Unless…you’d like to
do me a favor and make that announcement?”

Jimmy shook his head, smiling for the first
time that day. “No, thanks. That’s why you make the big bucks,” he
said, wishing this was a bad dream. Ken was right about how he felt
about Pete Donnelly and Glen Putnam. Jimmy detested both of
them.

Ken nodded with a smirk and studied his
computer screen for a second. “Down thirty-six hundred points,” he
mumbled. “We’ve got to get you moving.”

Jimmy watched as Ken opened his bottom desk
drawer and quickly produced a bank envelope. He then stood and
reached into his pants pocket and dug out a familiar ring with two
keys on it. Ken set the key ring on the envelope and pushed it
across the desk to Jimmy.

“Those are the keys to the Mack,” Ken said,
as if Jimmy didn’t know. The Mack was the company truck used for
carting parts to and from their customers and also doubled as a
moving van if someone needed it badly enough. “There’s about eight
thousand bucks in that envelope. I want you to head over to Saint
Cloud and top off the tanks and buy whatever you can get your hands
on.”

“I can’t take your money, Ken,” protested
Jimmy. “I’ve got a little in the bank.”

“I wasn’t asking you to take it. I’m ordering
you to do it. I’d do it myself, but I’ve got a ton of shit to take
care of before we hit the road. You’d better stop home first and
run this by Paula. We don’t want her watching this unfold on the
television. She might panic. You’ve got to be quick and you’ve got
to make her believe. I’m going to be blunt; if she won’t go I want
you to give her enough cash to get down to her folks’ place. My
guess is that she’s going to lean that way. That’s a big mistake.
The cities are going to be war zones and it won’t matter how much
her old man owns or what he has in the bank. But that’s their
business. Do you follow me? I want you heading up with us.”