Chapter 9
Patrick woke up to his phone ringing and answered it just before it went to voice mail.
“This Patrick?” said a gruff voice on the other end.
“Yes, it is.”
“This is Barry Rivard, out on Cash Nichols Road. If you’re still looking for work, I got a half dozen loads of scrap I need hauled down to the scrappers’. I’ll pay you a quarter of what they give me, less the fuel for the truck.”
Patrick was already scrambling out of bed. “Sure. That sounds fair. I’ll be right over.”
“Dress to work. And bring your own food.”
“Right.”
He dressed, grabbed what little outerwear he had, and dashed upstairs. The house was quiet. Given the time, he was guessing everyone else was gone for the day. He grabbed sandwich fixings from the fridge and threw together a lunch. He was running down his m
