Drilled - Jayne Rylon

1

It happened in slow motion.

Joe barely kept his temper during a phone argument he was having with a supplier over a messed up delivery. Part of his team stood by on hold. They’d been interrupted by the phone ringing while revising their plans due to yet another issue that had cropped up that morning. As Joe glanced away, praying for sanity in the midst of the chaos that came with managing the construction of the Hot Rods’ home extension, he saw it about to happen.

One of the new guys framing the roof picked up a pneumatic nail gun and yanked on the air hose. Right about the same time as one of the other workers—it looked like Adam from where Joe was standing—attempted to straddle a larger than usual gap between two studs with a truss balanced on his shoulder. Instead of planting on lumber, Adam’s boot got tangled in the whipping hose that snaked across his path at precisely the wrong moment.

It was something that never would have happened in the Powertools crew. Joe and the guys, and Devon, knew each other in and out. They worked seamlessly together, like a well-choreographed dance troupe. Each of them moved in time with the others whether they were working on a construction project or screwing around together. Literally.

Sleeping with your partners gave your work relationship a whole new sort of intimacy, he supposed. The crew were always aware of each other and fit together seamlessly, which he realized right about then he might have taken for granted after nearly two decades of friendship. He was an idiot for leaving. For thinking he could recreate that overnight and handle being in charge—especially of a job of this scale.

“Look out!” another one of the young guys Joe had hired to work on this special project, away from his regular crew, shouted the warning but it was too late.

First Adam jerked, then he lost control of the load on his shoulder. A timber rained onto the ground floor of the site. Each inch it travelled downward took ten beats of Joe’s racing heart. It clipped one of the other crewmen, who was at least wearing his hard hat, before clattering to the cement slab that made the foundation of the building they were erecting. Unfortunately, Adam’s wind-milling arms couldn’t keep him in place.

Joe lunged forward as if he could reach the guy and snatch him from midair although he was watching the horrific scene unfold from at least fifty feet away. And when Adam crashed into the ground, landing shin-first on top of the wood he’d dropped, everyone on the site let out a collective groan in response to the sickening crunch.

Already in motion, Joe disconnected his call but kept his phone in his hand as he sprinted toward the injured man.

“Ah, fuck.” Adam rolled, clutching his leg. “Fuck!”

Joe was relieved that the lucky bastard was able to curse at all. He could easily have broken his neck or damaged his spine or punctured a lung with a broken rib. Any number of other things. Hell, he still might have even though he could shout.

Joe slid across the remaining ground between them as if he were stealing home at the Powertools annual cutthroat summer barbeque softball game. He put a hand on Adam’s shoulder and held him in place gently yet as firmly as he could. He kept the other man from rocking or trying to get to his feet out of sheer instinct.

“Hey. You’re gonna be okay. Stay still until we can get someone out here to check you out. Just a few minutes, I promise.”

The rest of the guys circled around, watching as Joe dialed 911 and relayed information about the accident and their location to the emergency operator as quickly and efficiently as possible. He hovered over the wounded worker, inspecting him for signs of visible trauma. Blood trickled from his fattening lip. Adam’s eyes started to dilate and glaze with pain.

It reminded Joe of those times when Dave had been recovering in the hospital after his accident, many years in the past. He’d never forget this same cold feeling of dread taking up residence in his gut. And just like he had done then, he put on his bravest face and lied through his clenched teeth.

“You’re okay, Adam. You’re good. Help is coming. Everything’s going to be fine.”

About that time, a booming voice shouted, “Hey, cuz, what’s going on?”

Eli.

Shit!

Not only had Joe allowed one of his crew to get hurt, now