Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

“Gonna be a scorcher today,” Al drawled, “Heard it on the radio, ninety-one degrees, whoo!” Al shook his head, “That’s no weather to be working in, I tell you what. That’s the kind of day for floatin’ in the quarry with an ice cold Brewski in yer hand. Isn’t that right, Terry?”

“Ayyup,” Terrance affirmed, attaching the magnetic lift to the manhole cover.

“You ever go over to Peak’s Quarry when you were kid, Terr? Me and my boys used to party out there a lot, whoo! I tell ya what, those were wild times. There was this one night, Stacey and I—you know Stacey, Stacey LaChance, well Philbrick now, she’s the chick with the bright red hair who works in payroll?”

Terrance stood, engaging the magnetic lift. The manhole cover rose with a loud metallic screech.

“Stacey and I were—”

A sudden scream cut Al off. Before either man had time to comprehend what they had heard, a woman pulled herself up out of the manhole. She was dirty, her clothes ripped to shreds and covered in filth. Blood dripped from a large gash on her face. Her eyes were wide with horror. No sooner had she crawled out of the hole than she was on her feet, sprinting away from them.

“It’s coming!” She screeched back at them, “Don’t go down there! Run for your lives!”

Slack-jawed they watched her disappear around the corner.

“Huh,” Al finally broke the silence, “This never happened before…Guess we should call Mickey?”

Terrance shrugged, “Ayyup.”

If only they had called the military, the coast guard, maybe the Pope instead of their boss. If only he hadn’t told them to get back to work. Al might be drinking beer and floating in a quarry today.

(294 words)