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PROLOGUE
The blare of the alarm jolted Candace awake. She blinked rapidly, trying to orient herself in the cramped sleeping cubicle. Her first day on the rig. This was it.
She threw on her coveralls and work boots, stumbling into the hallway. The stale air reeked of oil and sweat. Machinery hummed and clanked, the steel walkways vibrating under her feet as she made her way topside.
Candace emerged onto the platform and stiffened, feeling a low, nervous energy under the rising light of dawn. Massive drills and cranes towered above her, drenched in glaring floodlights. The rig looked like an oil-slicked metal beast come to life. Veterans strode past with clenched jaws, ignoring the newbie gawking in their midst.
Over the deafening grind of the drills, the foreman shouted orders. Candace tried to focus amidst the sensory assault—the acidic tang of crude oil, the searing wind whipping her hair. She was here to do a job, to prove herself.
As she headed toward her station, Candace steeled her nerves and whispered, “You got this.”
She joined the other workers at the control station, trying to make sense of the panel’s blinking lights and gauges.
“Rookie, check the pressure in valve 6C,” grunted Hank, the grizzled driller.
Candace fumbled with the controls. The readings seemed off.
“Trouble?” asked Hank.
“Pressure’s dropping fast in 6C,” Candace replied.
Hank scowled. “Equipment’s acting up again. We better shut it down before she blows.”
He killed the power on the drill, bringing an eerie silence to the platform. The crew gathered around as Hank examined the malfunctioning valve, his brow furrowed.
“This thing’s busted good,” he muttered. “Gonna take some time to fix. Whole operation’s stalled ’til then.”
The workers grumbled but got to work stopping the flow of oil and gas. As the floodlights illuminated their efforts, she wondered if this was what every shift out here was like—wrestling with temperamental machines to keep the crude pumping.
“Alright, let’s troubleshoot this mess,” Hank muttered at her side. “Smith, check the intake lines. Johnson, inspect the seals. Rookie, monitor the sensors and let me know if you see any spikes.”
The workers dispersed to their tasks. Candace kept her eyes glued to the sensor panel. The readings seemed steady. Then, without warning, the pressure spiked in valve 6C. Lights flashed as the sensors went haywire.
“Hank! We’ve got a problem over here!” Candace yelled.
Hank rushed over. “What the hell? Valve’s jumping all over the place.”
The crew gathered around the panel, faces etched with concern. The rig creaked and groaned as pressure built.
“Shut it down, now!” Hank barked.
Candace scrambled to power down the valve before it ruptured. The noise died away as the sensors stabilized.
Hank let out a low whistle. “This thing’s possessed. Almost lost control there. We gotta find the root of the problem before the whole rig’s compromised.”
Candace nodded, heart pounding. She wasn’t expecting her first day to involve averting a blowout. Maybe she had gotten in over her head. But it was too late to turn back now.
The crew fanned out across the platform, searching for clues. Candace followed Hank as he inspected the pipes and valves leading from the troublesome valve. She kept one eye on the sensor panel, ready to alert them if readings spiked again.
Hank scratched his head as they circled back around. “Can’t find a damn thing wrong. But something’s making that valve go haywire.”
He gazed across the rig, pondering their next move. His eyes landed on an access port along the outer railing.
“There,” he said, pointing. “Service hatch. Leads right to the valve junction. We get eyes down there, maybe we can spot the culprit.”
Candace and Hank made their way to the port. Hank wheeled over a work light and flipped the switch, illuminating the dark hole. Candace peered down into the abyss, a chill running through her. This was no place for claustrophobes.
Hank lowered himself partway into the hole. “Hand me that flashlight, will ya?”
