Chapter 1

“ You wanted to see me Mr. Nace?”

“Yes, I did. Have a seat Mr. Szakura.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I would rather sta--”
“Sit down, Mr. Szakura”

It was to the be the beginning of the end of normal life for the innocent townsfolk in Westthrall, New York. A tiny town nestled between the crook of the two great mountains (which were actually rather small, as their peaks did not rise anywhere near the lengths of the Great Rocky Mountains). It was a place where birds could still sing without being choked by the smog of industrialization, and people were able to breathe the fresh mountain air. It was relatively quiet, peaceful, and scenic, or at least it used to be, before Alban Springs built their leviathan of a bottling plant right in the middle of the mountains.

They said it was in order to give their water “a more natural feel”, and the plant was built with little consideration of the protests by the townsfolk. They said that any water company that had to worry about making a natural image for itself gave them bad images, and did all that they could to keep the plant from being built. Just six months later, the three massive distillation and purification compounds spiraled upward and over the tiny little town, along with a bottling facility that lay in the middle of the compound. It was a mess of towers, tubing, and small white offices that provided a ridiculous product in massive quantities across the country whether people needed it or not, and despite all the efforts of the trees, and great blue American sky surrounding it, nothing could make that place look beautiful.

Slowly but surely the town grabbed all the good, hardworking townsfolk of Westthrall and made them their own. The plant’s influence spread like a cancer, eating away at the freedom of occupation and leisure like a hideous disease eats flesh and bone. In truth, the flesh and bone of that town were by now long gone, an empty skeleton of wood and cement without a life of its own. By the time this conversation had begun, Westthrall was a modern land of the dead rendered soulless by the whirring gears of industrial might and the long, grasping fingers of corporate greed

Mr. Miles Nace, the manager of this plant, was the physical embodiment of all that plant represented. He was a short, fat, sweaty glob of angst, ulcers, and nerves that never seemed to simmer in that giant meat soup that he was, with a temperament that combined the coldness and stiffness of a block of ice with the demeanor of a scorpion. One might have called him a filthy, ethically dead creature who fouled the very ground upon which he stood. There were plenty of names that the people in his employ would have liked to call him as well. However, he also happened to own skyrocketing stock options, high praise from the people’s people, and a near monopoly on the water bottle market, so the common man was smart to keep their mouths closed and their voices soft.

Despite all of this, he could not be satisfied by neither money nor power. Not fully at any rate. Money and power were always wonderful things to have, and Mr. Nace enjoyed every ounce of it, but so many people in this world have influence and prestige, few could say they owned a man.

This man was James Szakura, employee, son-in-law, and persona non grata to Mr. Nace. James Szakura, the same man that ruined his future and forced him into a lifestyle so much lower than he could have been in life. He corrupted his own daughter, his own flesh and blood into taking his generous offer and spitting on it right before his very eyes, only to insult him more by marrying him. Though he treated everyone in his employ like the furry jelly that grows on rotten fruit, he had a particular disgust for Mr. Sakura, and even as he sat down with him at this very moment to dock his wages, he could feel the ulcers in his stomach begin to bulge as his stomach turned with disgust. There was no need to conceal this disgust, it was an open secret that bled through Mr. Nace’s eyes every time they fell upon him.

“Remember about three weeks ago we had that discussion? Hmm? Do you remember the discussion we had?”

“Yes sir, I remember. You said--”

“Did I ask you what I said?”, snapped Nace, “No I did not. Nowhere in that sentence did I ask for your input Mr. Szakura. If I wanted your input I would have put it in for you, are we clear?

“…yes sir…,” said James. He cast his eyes down to avoid that piercing glare and the bleeding hate that radiated from them.

“Now, as I was saying before I thought I had made it absolutely clear that there were to be no inspectors in this building without my say so. Did I not?

“Yes but--”

Ignoring him, Nace took out a small piece of paper from his suit pocket and began to read from it, pronouncing ever word with a drop of acid and a whiff of menace. “ ‘To Niles S. Nace, Director and Manager of the Alban Springs Bottled Water Company Westthrall plant. The recent inspections of your plant in Westthrall, New York have revealed distasteful results as to the obvious health hazards and numerous violations of standard health codes. You are hereby fined $100,000 and are to report to the State Court to testify for further violations.’ $100,000 that I’d say that’s roughly twice you make in a year is that correct?”
“Sir, they were government inspectors I can’t just turn them away! The security guard let them in I couldn’t just turn them away from my office!”

“Be quiet Mr. Szakura--”

“They asked for you and you weren’t there, just what the hell was I supposed to do? I’m not going to go to jail because you said--”

“That is enough, Mr. Sakura!”, said Nace as he felt blood rushed to his face. He was doing a good job at controlling his voice, though he knew that it was itching for the chance to burst out of his throat. “I’m already docking your wages 15, I suggest you stop trying to test my patience before I make it 20!”

“Docking my…but this would be the 3rd time in half a year, Marie just isn’t making enough at the hair salon to cover our expenses if you cut my salary.”

“Speak her name in my presence again and I will sack you. Now, 15 of your salary will be removed from your paycheck to pay for your mistakes that are costing this company thousands. And if you ever disobey me again, I will make sure that you never work in your field again, ARE WE CLEAR, MR. SZAKURA?” The tidal wave of anger he had been just barley holding back swept through the room as the hate that issued from his voice practically raised the temperature of James’s skin, the heat of his anger literally making James sweat.

“You…you cant just knock me down a quarter of my salary! Do you expect me to starve me and Mari--”

“I CAN DO WHATEVER I DAMN WELL PLEASE MR. SZAKURA NOW GET OUT OF MY OFFICE BEFORE I SACK YOU! GET OUT!”

James stood up, the hate now beginning to show in his eyes. Looking into his face was bad enough, but seeing that look of defiance only irritated him even more. “Don’t you dare give me that look.--” Mr. Nace began to say

“Or what, you’ll sack me? We both know you won’t, you love having control over me and Marie. You love every goddamn second of it, I can see it in your fat face” James clenched his fist, the muscles in his arms beginning to bulge, and for a moment Mr. Nace was stricken with fear. He knew that all his money couldn’t keep an animal like that back on the other side his desk, and for a split second James looked like he just might.

“I told you…never speak her name in my presence again or--”

But James could not be stopped. His face was growing more crimson by the second, and he would say his piece before the day was through. “You’ll get what’s coming to you,” he said, “It might not be from me, or from Marie, but you’ll get it. You and this whole goddamn company will get it! Do you hear me? YOU AND THIS WHOLE GODDAMN COMPANY ARE GONNA GET IT GOOD!” And with that, James stormed out the office, slamming the door behind him and nearly breaking the glass frames along with him.

It was the beginning of the end for normal life in not-so-scenic Westthrall, but to use the old cliché, sometimes, the end is only the beginning.