Page 2 of Omega’s Fold

I stand.

The sound of the chair scraping back feels like the loudest thing in the hall, and I can feel every face turning toward me, forty pairs of eyes I’ve known my whole life. I keep my gaze locked on the stage on a point just past Payley’s shoulder where the faded American flag hangs off its pole. I pick a knot in the pole and I look at the knot.

My jaw’s set wrong. I work it once. The inside of my mouth has gone dry.

Damn you, Ray, I think again. I’ve never been a talker, Ray knows that. But I’m also the one who is worst impacted by this devil of a corporation. Of course, Ray wants me to speak.

Everyone is looking at me.

“South well,” I say.

My voice is too quiet. I clear my throat, and the sound is enormous in the silence of the hall.

“South well on my property,” I say again, and this time it’s louder. “Last summer the pump ran a little over an hour a day to fill the main trough for the cows. This summer it’s running five. And last week, it ran dry.”

I stop. I was going to stop there, and I make myself go on instead, because if I’ve come this far, I might as well finish it.

“Twice last month I trucked water in. Never done that in my life. My mother never did it. My grandfather never did it. No one ever did in this town. Never needed to. You can bring jobs in and I don’t have no argument with that, but every single parcel of land will die without the water. That’s cos of you. And that so-called mitigation package won’t mitigate a thing of that.”

I don’t look up, because if I do, I’m going to lose my nerve.

“That’s all,” I say.

I sit down, and the chair rocks on its bent leg. My palm is damp. I wipe it on my thigh and I don’t look up for a count of ten.

When I do, Payley is watching me, then he smiles, that professional smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Ray looks like he wants to punch him in the face. I half wish that he would. It would make this entire mess far more entertaining. And maybe the Linden Group people would be far less smug.

A few more people stand and speak, mostly on the same theme. Someone else mentions his well. Another person says they’re concerned about pollution from the new commercial park that comes with the development.

Finally, the complaints die down but when it’s Payley’s turn to speak, he looks at me first.

I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I was called on to speak. Maybe, because at twenty-three, I’m the youngest person affected and he thinks I’m more easily mollified.

“I hear you, Wyatt. I want you to know that. And I want everyone in this room to know that the concerns you’ve raised are exactly the kind our mitigation package is designed to address. Now, I can’t speak to specific wells tonight, for the record, but I can tell you that the package includes everything you should need, along with a direct line to our community liaison, who’s in this room with us tonight.”

The smiley woman lifts her hand halfway and puts it down.

“We are committed,” Payley says, “to being good neighbors.”

Bullshit. They don’t care. The only thing they care about is covering their own asses enough that we can’t sue them successfully.

I want to tell him that but I don’t. I’ve done enough talking for one night and it wouldn’t change a thing.

I look at the tile and I breathe.

Eventually Ray says, “We’re not going to resolve this tonight. I want to thank Mr. Payley and his team for coming out. I want to thank all of you for speaking up. This conversation will continue. Meeting adjourned.”

I’m out the side door before he’s finished the word adjourned.

The parking lot is full, and I have to cut between two pickups to reach mine. The air outside is cool and smells like cut hay.

“Wyatt,” a female voice says. I stop with my hand on the truck door.

Ray’s wife Donna comes around the tailgate of the pickup to my left, handbag on her shoulder, reading glasses pushed up into her gray hair. She’s shorter than me by a head. She was a friend of my mother’s for longer than I’ve been alive. She’s taken me on as her own personal project. Sometimes, I love that. It’s good to know I have someone there for me, but sometimes it’s a bit much.

“I’m fine,” I say.