by Rik Hunik
Chapter 2
The next day Jeff arrived, as usual, several minutes before the start of his shift. Rather than sit alone in the lunchroom reading an old magazine or newspaper he changed into his coveralls and went out to talk to Paul, who was two years older than Jeff and had been working for Phoenix for a month longer. They both did the same job; seal the rubber bags around the tires for curing, load them into the kettle, unload the kettles, removing the rubber bags, and repeat. It was hot, dirty work.
Paul had just finished lifting a bagged truck tire onto one of the hooks hanging from the overhead monorail. He connected the vacuum line, reached up to open the valve and said, "Hey Jeff, how's it going?"
Jeff held his watch up to his face and pretended to study it intensely. "In a few minutes it's going to get a lot worse."
"That's odd, mine is about to get a lot better." They both laughed.
Jeff said, "How was your day?"
"Same as usual. I sweated a lot, got dirty, scalded my fingers a few times and had a bit of trouble sealing some of these stretched old bags, like this one here."
The outer form-fitting bag, like an inner tube with the center strip removed, had been stretched by frequent use and hung slack around the truck tire. Jeff lent his hands and together they managed to press on all the loose places until the outer bag made complete contact with the inner bag and the bags began to contract tightly around the tire as the air was sucked out. If the seal was broken steam would get inside while the tire was being cured and the tread would not bond, ruining the tire.
Paul said, "Number one kettle is almost ready to open but I've got enough tires ready to fill it." He half-turned and waved a hand over his shoulder to indicate the long row of tires behind him, hanging from hooks on the overhead monorail. "It should be an easy shift for you."
"Thanks. I'll try to return the favor next week when I'm on days."
"I'll take you up on that. Time for me to go. Catch you tomorrow. Don't work too hard and watch out for the ghost."
Jeff grabbed him by the arm to prevent him from leaving. "Wait a minute. What are you talking about? Is there really a ghost in here?"
"You mean you didn't know?"
"I just heard about it last night. You're not putting me on, are you?"
Paul shook his head. "I know he's here. I've talked to him myself."
"I find that hard to believe."
"I swear it's true, but if you don't believe me you can try it yourself."
Jeff felt like he was setting himself up for a joke but he asked, "How?"
Paul leaned closer. "He's already played one prank on you so he probably wants to talk. All you need to do is go to the back of a kettle and just listen. If he's there you'll hear him." He broke off. "Here comes Barlow with your instructions for the night. Bye."
Paul vanished like a ninja and the foreman stood in his place. "Number one kettle is almost ready to open, but Paul has enough tires ready to fill it and..." Blah blah blah.
