Free Hell Rig by J. E. Gurley Page B

main building. The others were irritated as Ed and Easton turned on the lights and shook them awake, expressing their feelings vocally.
    “I was having a wet dream,” Tolson complained, smiling at Lisa.
    “I hope I wasn’t in it,” she retorted.
    “Shut up!” Ed shouted. Everyone looked at him in surprise. He looked at Jeff. “Bale’s dead,” he said.
    “Greg’s dead? How?” Jeff asked, incredulous but with a sinking feeling growing in his stomach.
    “Somebody crucified the bastard,” Easton said, adding his two-cent’s worth to the conversation.
    Ed slapped Easton on the shoulder to silence him.
    “Crucified? You mean like hanging from a cross?” Lisa asked, turning pale at the thought.
    Tolson shook his head and put on his Saints cap. “I knew there was something about this place I didn’t like.”
    The others remained silent, stunned at the news of their co-worker’s death, all except Waters. He began to laugh, quietly at first, but slowly it grew louder until it held a hysterical edge.
    “Shut up, you bastard!” Gleason yelled at him from across the room.
    “What are you laughing at?” Tolson asked, sneering at Waters.
    Waters stopped laughing and looked at each of them, smiling. “I told you this place was haunted. Digger Man never left. He’s here, waiting.”
    Gleason lunged toward Waters, knocking over a couple of chairs on his way across the room. Tolson held him back.
    “Don’t bother, Big Clyde. The dude’s fried,” he said. He looked at Waters, then at Ed. “Maybe Waters did it. He’s the one who believes in ghosts. Maybe he wants to make us believers.”
    Ed shook his head. “Look. There’s no blood on him and he was asleep when Sid came to get me. Besides, do you think he could overpower Bale? Bale outweighed him by thirty or forty pounds and was as tough as nails.”
    Tolson shook his head. “He could’ve snuck up on him or something. I still don’t trust him.”
    Waters snickered. “We’re all going to die. I came back to die. I couldn’t live with the voices any more. The rest of you,” he paused and looked around, “have your reasons for being here. He needs you. He needs us all.”
    Gleason growled. “Let me bitch slap the bastard a few times.”
    Ed shook his head. “No, let him go. He went through a lot out here. He can’t help it.”
    Jeff pulled on his pants. “If you don’t think Waters did it, who did? One of us? Me?” He looked at Lisa and smiled. “Her?”
    Lisa smiled back.
    Ed held out his hands plaintively. “Look, maybe a boat came alongside. Oh, hell, I don’t know! Let’s get him down. Then we search this platform top to bottom.”
    He turned and left. One by one, the others followed.
    * * * *
    Lowering Bale to the deck proved more difficult than anticipated.
    “The controls are frozen,” Jeff called out from the crane’s cabin as soon as he crawled inside. He pulled open the control panel, glanced quickly at the tangle of hoses and saw a hydraulic line ripped from its connector. Fluid dripped down the side of the cab and pooled on the floor. Jeff whistled, thinking it would have required enormous strength to do that. It would also take a while to repair it. He didn’t want to leave Bale’s body dangling in the air for that long. It didn’t seem right. Instead, he crawled out onto the lattice boom, dropped a rope over the upper sheave, slid down the cables and attached it to Bale’s cross. Together, they pulled Bale up while Jeff took in the slack on the chain, unhooking and then lowering him to the deck.
    “He’s as pale as a ghost,” Easton observed dryly.
    “Have some respect!” Tolson snapped.
    Lisa examined the body closely. “Look,” she said. “He wasn’t dead when they did this.”
    Jeff looked at Bale but could see nothing, other than the fact someone had crucified him. “How do you know?”
    “All the cuts and punctures bled out. He was alive the entire time. He bled to death.”
    “Good God. How long would that