Page 5 of Statler

A plus right now, though?

Stat didn’t have to ponder his solitary downtime quite yet. Starting this new job would take him away for a few months. Maybe even longer. Which meant that once again he could kick his nameless regrets down the road.

“Everybody all packed?” Stat asked, dragging himself out of his funk.

He didn’t really need to inquire. His team was always ready.

But having been alone with his own thoughts for the past forty-eight hours, Stat felt the need to get his mouth moving.

“Yup. All set, boss.” Dizzy actually saluted.

“Asshole,” Stat grumbled, but gave a wry grin.

The sarcastic title wasn’t unexpected from his irreverent electrician. Getting a rise out of Statler seemed to be the man’s number one goal these days.

Right. The entire team knew Stat had been feeling unsettled. When you worked so closely with a bunch of people, it was hard to hide anything.

Statler rolled his eyes and regrouped, because that’s what he did.

“Okay you clowns. My life is not up for examination. We need to get down to business. As you are all aware, several months back, our company bid on that factory up at the Maine/Canadian border.”

They all nodded.

“And as I confirmed to you yesterday, so you could start packing and preparing, our contract was finally accepted. This morning, I signed on the dotted line, so that means we’re good to go.”

Grins broke out that the job was imminent.

“That means,” Stat continued, “that it’s time to fill you in on what the job really entails.”

The team—with Sherbert being the exception—had yet to be read in on the underlying particulars, since the operation had taken such a long freaking time to come together. There’d been no guarantee they’d actually get the job up north that was necessary for their cover, so knowledge had been held close to Stat’s chest. He’d just been waiting for the right time to reveal all.

That culminating moment was now.

“Sherbert?”

Statler easily turned the meeting over to their tech whiz, who’d been digging into things for the last couple weeks.

“Okay. Listen up,” their red-headed detail man barked. “We’re headed to a little town up north called Liminal. Population, a whopping one thousand, three hundred forty-seven.”

That got laughs and snorts.

“Most everyone over the age of eighteen in this thriving metropolis—which consists of about eight-hundred fifty individuals—works at the one factory in town. That monument to the Gilded Age is a nearly one-hundred-and fifty-year-old, brick edifice that is currently under the ownership of one William Flazer.”

He glanced down at his computer screen to confirm his facts, and nodded.

“That being said, the odd men and women who aren’t factory employees, work at the single gas station in town, or at the convenience store, both of which are also owned by Flazer. The balance of the residents are either kids, or have aged out and are living on the very meager pensions that the factory provides.”

He went on. “In addition, the burg has an all-volunteer fire department, and a few…part time cops?” he offered with a puzzled shrug. “And the volunteers have each been vetted by…?” Sherbert paused for a response.

Everyone groaned. “William Flazer.”

“Ding, ding, ding. Correct,” Sherbert lauded sarcastically. “It seems that the only thing the man doesn’t have his fingers in, at least as far as we can tell, is the single school in town. The eleven educators there, teaching approximately 220 students, are all from towns nearby.

“To continue, there are no large grocery stores or medical facilities within Liminal’s municipal limits. To get nutritious food for your fridge, or any kind of health care, townsfolk have to travel approximately ten miles.”

“Gah. That sucks. On both counts,” Tonka, their team medic growled.

Yeah. Stalter understood where the man was coming from.