Chapter 8

The ninety day assignment was up so I was all loaded to leave the tiny apartment. I put what few possessions I had into the bed of the pickup truck and covered them with a tarp. I had said my goodbyes to my boss Howard and my partner Stonebridge. I didn't give a crap about the others.

I had to choose one of the properties offered by the state sight unseen. The plan was to give me a home where they could monitor me, I assumed. The state had at least given me a description of my choices. I chose to stay away from any that had been meth labs just in case the boys might come back to recycle the place.

What I decided on was a two bay service station which had been converted to a convenience store. It had been used in its last incarnation as a stop for human traffickers. A kind of way station on the new version of the underground railroad. Instead of slaves it was trucks filled with illegals headed to Boston.

My last night in Capitol City I stayed up late since there was no hurry to get to my new home. I had an idea it would be a rat's nest. I figured the pickup would be in use to haul off trash for days. Even so I was still excited about owning a home of my own. That was the case even though I didn't quite know who I was going to be at the time.

The name on my new driver's license was Rose Seabold. Presumably that would be my new name in the new community where I was to locate next. I had a new prepaid ATM card in the same name. So I just needed to run it through an ATM machine to find out how well I had been paid over the last three months work.

I checked on line before I left the apartment and found I had just under ten grand in the bank. I probably would need every penny of that and then some to make the convenience store livable.

Since the place was used to house illegals even for just a few days at a time, it would likely be in the middle of nowhere. The building was built in the 1940s as a two bay service station. That was back in the days when the State two lane highways were the latest technology.

In the sixties there were a few interstate highways, so a large number of cars deserted the two lane roads in favor of them. With that loss of traffic the roadside repair garages pretty much lost favor. For a while the building continued to work as an automobile and farm equipment repair facility, but in the end the owner decided to retire and no one wanted a small repair shop as it couldn't rustle up enough business to make ends meet.

The next incarnation was as a country store. It sold a little gas and a little beer but it had just too much rural land around it. Not enough people shopped locally to create enough business to stay open.

In the new century it became a way station for the trafficking of sad humans. That and several other operations brought it to the attention of the SBI, and the Feds. It was closed down completely five years before it was offered for sale to me.

I figured the picture of the cinder block building was at least five years old. It was rundown when the picture was taken I knew. I had no idea how much worse it could be, but I was pretty sure it was at least some worse. Those were my thoughts as I made the three hour drive into the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Two hours into the drive I pulled into one of those highway plaza shopping center for lunch. I didn't want to spend anymore time than necessary, so I gassed the truck before I went inside the convenience mega store. Inside I had a hot dog and bag of chips. I also had a donut probably brought in from a factory five hundred miles away. Even so it wasn't a terrible meal. Best of all I was back on the road in minutes.

I had to rely on the GPS device to lead me to the old style service station. No care had been taken at all in its maintenance or upkeep. The lot was overgrown and the building was in need of repairs. It looked like a something out of the zombie Apocalypse. Even so it was my first home, so I was looking forward to cleaning it up and changing the nightmare appearance of it.

The fancy dancy GPS the controller dead dropped for me, led me to a small farm community with an even smaller than small bed and breakfast. At seventy-five dollars a night the bedroom B&B was no bargain. I determined one night would be my limit. No matter what it took I would get enough done to stay at my country store, as I begun to think of it.

I asked at the desk and got the number of a handyman who might be available to help. "If he isn't available today, he might be soon," the matronly woman said. "He doesn't book too far ahead. He mostly does odd jobs, but he is good. You know most of the laborers are foreigners now."

"I see," I said not knowing exactly what she was trying to tell me.

"It's not farming season now, so he might know some other's who could help you," a younger woman agreed. She was obviously the daughter.

I made the call. "Hello sir, my name is Rose Seabold, and I'm trying to find someone who can help me remodel a building. Would you please call me, I need to get working on it as soon as possible," I said into the recorder.

It was an hour later when the phone rang. "Senorita my name is Carlos and I got your message. What exactly do you wish to have done?" he asked.

"Carlos to be honest I haven't looked at the building yet, so I do not know what needs to be done, but I assure you there is a lot," I said. I went on to explain where the building was located, and what the general plan was for it.

"I am familiar with the building, but like you, I have no idea what will need to be done. I am working on a pack barn tomorrow, but I can leave my brother there and meet you at the building at lunch. We can walk through it then, if you like?" he suggested.

"I agree," I said since I had no other choices available to me at that moment. "Tomorrow lunch will be fine. In the meantime I will walk through it tonight to determine what I would like to do. You, however, are the expert and I'm sure things will change after our talk."

After he hung up the phone I went on a scouting mission. There were two things that I would need for damn sure. A place to eat breakfast and either a Home Depot or Lowe's. Both had delivery service so I expected to use the closest one to my little country store.

I asked at the desk and found that the nearest shopping plaza with a home improvement superstore was outside Roaring Gap. Roaring Gap was a small community, but it was near the intersection of four interstate highways which made it an ideal place for a shopping plaza. Being on the outskirts of town, Roaring Gap was no more than a postal address for the commercial stores.

With that information in hand, I didn't need to worry any more about getting building supplies. I did need a place closer than the Roaring Gap plaza for food though. For that I found something I had no idea still existed. It sat on the north side of the crossroad of a well used county road and an old State highway. I was also about five miles from my country store.

Helen's Crossroads Diner was in what for all the world looked like a double wide trailer. I counted the number of seats. The total at the bar and in the small dining room was exactly thirty four adults and four high chairs. It also had a deck on the front with two iron tables.

I figured finding it was luck. There was a sign on the door not to be ignored. The sign read, "We speak English, if you want service you should do the same." Then a second sign read, "If you plan to rob us, be warned our cook learned his trade in prison."

"Is that sign for real?" I asked.

"Yeah we only speak English," the really rough looking middle aged waitress said.

"I mean about the cook," I added.

"The owner Helen did learn to cook in prison," she said with a smile.

Damn, I thought. What have I gotten myself into? Even so I ordered a hamburger and fries. According to the menu they had several burger options. The one that sounded the best to me was called a 'Beer Joint' Burger. It was a quarter pound burger with mustard, chili, slaw and onion shaved so thin you could see through them. The french fries were thick and obviously cooked some before deep frying them, because they were done completely and delicious. The Ice Tea wasn't very good though. Everything else more than made up for the tea.

"Is there anything else?" the waitress asked. I didn't really want it, but I had to know what it was.

"I would really like a cup of coffee," I suggested.

"We have Regular, Decaf, and Cell Block Six coffee," she said with a straight face.

"What the hell makes it Cell Block Six?" I whispered aloud to myself. When the coffee came I found it strong, but not bitter. It really was quite good. I wanted the recipe, so I asked the waitress.

She answered, "There is no chance of that at all. People always ask."

I paid the quite reasonable bill, then drove straight to the boarded up convenience store. When I arrived I found that the front door had been replaced by a piece of plywood. It must have been done several years ago. The information brief said the police released the crime scene five years before. The building had been vacant and boarded since that time at least. The building was in disrepair showing signs of damage dating farther back than six years. Likely the people, who were using it as a drop off point, had done nothing at all to it.

I was once a girlie girl. I would have never started removing things from the outside of the building, had I not been through Church Camp. Since Church Camp, I knew that nothing I did that night would make a damn bit of difference in the final outcome of the project. Since that was the case, I ripped down the door and window coverings using the tire tool and a hammer I found in the tool box of the truck.

First of all the outside walls needed some paint and patching. The building was old enough to have a conventional roof not a tar and gravel thing. That would make re-roofing it easier. Okay I didn't really know that till I met with Carlos the next day. What I did notice was that it had a steep roof with two small dormers on the front. Inside I found out why. It was so that the shop would have nice high ceilings. Actually there was no ceiling, but the roof structure was at least thirty feel above the garage area at its highest point. There was a lower ceiling over the office area which was very small. The area above it was used as storage space. The office occupied the empty space left after two bathrooms had been installed on the side of the garage area.

The two bay garage had been used as the convenience store's display space. The office was used as the checkout area, during the building's second incarnation. The whole thing had been trashed while it was a stopping point for illegals. The State had ordered a hazardous waste clean up due to all the human feces covering the building's floor. It had been cleaned, then abandoned several years before I bought it. It at least didn't have the shit smell, I noticed with some satisfaction.

On the rear side of the building I noticed a couple of roof trusses had collapsed. There was also some broken limbs lying about. I also noticed that the outside needed painting and the small windows needed replacing. The plumbing would probably be a wreck as well. The boarded over large windows would have to be turned into walls of some kind. It was going to be a massive project. The ten grand wasn't going to do it. I might not know much about building, but I knew that much for sure.

I went back to the bed and breakfast to call Carlos again. "Carlos I just came from my building. I need you to send someone over in the morning. The first thing I need is to secure the building, so that I can sleep there tomorrow night." I said.

"Senorita that will not be possible. I to went to look at the building. That roof is not safe," he said. "There are several other things to do before it can be used."

"Carlos you don't know me and what I can do," I said that while remembering the primitive condition at Church Camp. Send me a man familiar with plumbing. If I can get water and some security I can manage."