crunch of Eddie’s footsteps coming toward him. They stood shoulder to shoulder, oddly close to one another given all the surrounding space, and stared at nothing in particular. Finally, Eddie spoke. “A hundred grand in ten days.”
“Shit.”
“I don’t even know if that’s possible.”
“It’s possible,” Eli spat at the ground, for no reason. “But unlikely.”
“We only made twenty-five grand in the last two weeks.” Eddie’s voice was strained.
Eli spat again and folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, but those were small loads and we were still getting the kinks worked out.” He gave Eddie a sideways look. “And Ron doesn’t know we made anything at all yet.”
Eddie returned the gaze. “Still, that’s gonna be tough to do.”
“We can pocket about $7,500 a trip.” Eli stirred the dirt with one foot and stared at the ground, computing it in his head. “We load up at night and get down there first thing in the morning. I can leave first. Then you can fill the other truck and head down after. We should be able to turn two loads a day. That’s fifteen grand a day. Ten days? It’s doable, but it’s a helluva stretch.”
“There’s no way we can count on doing two loads a day. There’s no room for error. No room for shitty traffic. It’s a long drive to Long Beach. And the trucks are old. They could break any time. Hell, they could both break and we could be out of business for a week or more.”
“I know it.” Eli stared back out at the desert. “Hell, I don’t understand the hurry. I mean, we all want to make money, there’s no reason to push it like that.”
“We gotta talk some sense into him.”
VIII
As far as Hank Norton could tell, the only thing the designation of the Egg Rock Basin as a National Monument had done for the town of Nickelback, California was result in the construction of a brand new Super 8 Motel on the edge of town. The brochures in his room—all of them several years old now—made it clear that there had been a flurry of excitement at first. There were a few new stores, another gas station, and lots of general preparation to become a paradise for mountain bikers and rock climbers. But the promise of becoming the next Moab quickly faded. The designation had been made back when the economy was booming, the government had money to burn, and Congress suddenly went on a brief and inexplicable spending binge protecting the environment. Nine new monuments were designated that year and Egg Rock was one of them.
A three-panel, full-color pamphlet titled, “From Wildcatters to the Wild Outdoors: Exploring Nickelback’s Rich History” informed him that the basin had been accidentally discovered and named by a Standard Oil geologist in 1882 while he searched for fossil fuel in the remote parts of the Mojave Desert. On a particularly hot and cruel day, as Rodney Nickelback clamored over the alluvial remnants of a long ago eroded ridgeline, he crested the hill and saw the narrow valley stretch out below him. He marveled briefly at the odd sandstone boulders. They stood upright, running from forty to eighty feet high, and dotted the landscape like several hundred giant red eggs. Rodney cleaned his glasses on a corner of his shirt, made a hasty notation on his map regarding the location and description of the rocks, and headed back down the loose pile of stones in search of oil.
By the time Rodney Nickelback’s map made it to the head office of Standard Oil and then on to Washington, his simple notation had become Egg Rock’s permanent name. A hundred twenty years later, as Hank Norton sat on his queen-sized bed in his non-smoking room, a direct beneficiary of the new deluxe Super 8 motel at the far end of Main Street, he reflected on the stupidity of the town’s name and wondered how quickly he could finish his work.
He always made it a point to unpack his clothes in a motel room, even if he was only staying for a night. But the unpacking could only be done after all of the drawers and surfaces had been wiped with a hot, damp cloth. He’d done this immediately upon his arrival the night before, after meticulously arranging the damaged surveying equipment along the wall beside the bed. Then he’d taken a shower, and scrubbed himself thoroughly. After scrubbing the tub clean and wiping down the shower stall, Hank had finally been able