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The cabin was dank and musty, a testament to how long it had been erected for the logging crews to sleep in between shifts. Outside, the waning evening light did little to penetrate the walls of the four-man structure; its single four-pane window integrated into a flimsy wooden door that faced south. Neither dawn nor dusk could angle the sun in for proper lighting, leaving Henry inside to hold his newspaper up to a kerosene lantern to illuminate the text on the pages he was reading. There wasn't much going on to hold his attention, but it still was a comforting way to pass the time after a long day's work, and it helped him stay connected to civilization while he and the rest of the crew were so distantly separated from it.

Flipping the page, Henry idly scratched at this bushy black beard. He was skimming an article about Ike and the war when the dinner triangle began to ring out.

"About time," he muttered to himself. Folding the paper neatly and putting it down on the cable-spool-turned-table in the center of the room, he extinguished the lamp and stood up, feeling his stomach growl from hunger. Stepping over to the cabin door, he turned the knob and opened it, pausing in the threshold to look back at the shadowed bunks.

"You coming, Sam?" Henry asked the bunk.

An exhausted, frustrated groan came from the darkness. "Will you bring me back a plate?"

Sighing, Henry brought his hand up to the bridge of his nose, holding it between finger and thumb in dismay. "Again, the company doesn't let us take food back to the cabins. You know this," he growled out. "The moment they let you take food back here is the moment we all have to deal with an infestation. Either you eat now, or you wait for the mess to be open for breakfast tomorrow." There was no reply, so Henry swung the door closed behind him and stepped off the porch of the cabin.

Gravel crunched beneath Henry's boots; its sound a reminder of the trek needed to reach the mess hall. He didn't blame Sam for not wanting to make the walk for food, but the kid had better shape up soon, or he would be another burnout on the job. He had joined the company only three weeks ago, and every day beat him to hell and back. Normally, when a new recruit showed up, they would get siloed in with the rest of the probies, but due to the circumstances, Sam had been shoved into his cabin and thrown headlong into the field, his probationary period waived by management.

Shaking his head, Henry sidestepped a pothole alongside the gravel road. He had been a lumberjack for seven years now, longer when counting the time in the mill, and he had never seen such a mess of a job site. The initial clearing of the road and laying of gravel went smooth as butter, but once the basic logistics were out of the way, the problems arose. It started with the additional clearing for setting up the cabins for the lumberjacks: geography being as it was, there was few places to set up the camp in a proper cluster of buildings, so the company resorted to setting the cabins up along the sides of the cleared road. What options there had been were thwarted by sudden and unexplainable standing waters and tools that fell apart as soon as they touched the bark of a tree. The result was now that he and many of the other lumberjacks had to walk up to a quarter mile to reach the longhouse where the meals were served.

"Tch," Henry scoffed to himself as he walked along. Thinking about the problems the of the job had soured his mood considerably. Every day was a slog through thick mud and inadequate support from management. Over the last six months, his entire time had been spent on a project to add a mile-long road that headed south toward the back of the forest. The progress was slow, and his superiors were breathing down his neck about his pace, but everyone was hoping to find a better opportunity to bring in the heavy machines than where the current road cut across. An extra crane had been deployed to the site with the express purpose of pulling tipped logging trucks out of the mud, making it increasingly clear that the north end of the forest was not the place to start logging.

"Hello, Hen!" called out a voice from one of the cabins to Henry's left. Turning to acknowledge the newcomer, he saw his old friend Redford appear from the back of his cabin and bound toward him.

"Can you believe it's dinner time already? I'm staaaarving!" Redford excitedly gushed as he took up pace next to Henry.

"Mmhm," grunted Henry in reply. He wasn't nearly as chatty as Redford was, even on a good day, but his brooding had left him nearly mute.

"What do you think they are serving today?" Redford continued. Before waiting for a reply, he continued, "I hope it's plenty of meat! This old body needs as much protein as it can get after a long day of chopping down trees." He arched his back and patted his stomach for emphasis.

"Management mentioned budget cuts," Henry said darkly. "I don't think you'll be able to count on it for much longer."

"How do you mean?" asked Redford. "We're still shipping out tons of lumber. Look, there goes a truck now!"

There was a flash of headlights scanning past Henry's eyes before a truck rolled off the shoulder and securely onto the gravel road. It was loaded up to the limit with forty-foot logs. Diesel engine roaring as the throttle was opened, it rolled on past and out of sight behind them.

"I'm not the one that does the budgeting, Redford," Henry replied, idly kicking a loose rock down the road. "If the company says theycan't afford the food, then they aren't going to send it."

Redford grinned ear to ear. "In that case, I will enjoy as much as I can while it's here!" Without saying another word, he bolted forward, running ahead of Henry and leaving him alone to his thoughts once more.

Brooding, Henry wanted to be irritated with Redford, but it was hard to stay mad at him. His unyielding optimism was contagious, and the two of them went way back. They had both grown up on the same street back home, and it was a miraculous coincidence that they had ended up on the same job site these last two years. Redford's expertise as a surveyor had been vital on Henry's current project. Without his help, he would have made only half the progress on the southern road.

Looming ahead, the large wooden structure of the longhouse came into view. A mouthwatering aroma of searing meats wafted in the air, making Henry's stomach growl impatiently. As usual, he was late to dinner because of the distance from his cabin, and most of the company was already inside. Walking up the step to the double doors, he pushed them wide and entered the mess hall. Rows and rows of benches and banquet tables held dozens of other lumberjacks, each chowing down ravenously and filling almost every seat in the house. To his right, the serving counter stretched back toward the kitchen where it sat in a dedicated room and out of sight.

Picking up a plastic tray, Henry placed it upon the metal glides of the counter and slid it along the selections of main courses. Steaming chafing dishes waited on the opposite sides of the glass guard, each filled with various dishes. Fried chicken, pasta, Salisbury steaks, dinner rolls, mashed potatoes: all options for him to choose. Taking a serving spoon and tongs, he assembled a meal on his sectioned platter, opting for the steak and rolls with a side of potatoes. Wincing in surprise, the glint of the metal spoon he was holding caught the light of the halogen bulb above, momentarily blinding him. Before he could rub the spots from his eyes, a loud clatter of plastic landed to his side.

"Load me up," said Redford. "I need an extra hand here for all this food."

Dubiously, Henry eyed Redford, who was already holding two platters in each hand, each loaded to the brim with chicken and steaks. "You want some rolls with all that meat?" he asked sardonically.

"Yes, please!" Redford replied cheerfully.

Obliging his request, Henry took the pair of serving tongs and started placing dinner roll after dinner roll on the platter. Once a small mountain had been built, Henry chided, "You had better not be taking this back to your cabin. I already told Sam he couldn't eat in his bunk."

"Not at all, my good Hen," Redford replied in a mockingly regal tone. "I merely wish to enjoy my meal in the fresh air, out of doors."

"Uh huh," said Henry, completely unimpressed with Redford's antics. "And I suppose coming back inside for seconds is too much work?"

"Bingo." Redford winked mischievously and turned around to head for the door, leaving his two platters of meat on the serving counter.

Hastily, Henry shoved his own platter out of the line in case someone else came through for seconds. Stacking the three trays of food left by Redford, he hurried out the double doors after him.

"Redford!" he exclaimed in frustration as he shouldered the door open. "I'm not your personal servant. Carry your own damn food!"

Redford was sitting neatly off the edge of the raised step. Looking up at Henry, he bobbed his head side to side in uncontentious disagreement. "If you could place it next to me, I would appreciate it," he said, making yet another request of Henry that he wasn't going to refuse.

Sighing in exasperation, Henry bent down and unstacked the three platters next to Redford. "I'm going back inside to eat with everyone else. You can sit out here and be a menace all you want!"

"Thank you, Hen," Redford replied solemnly.

His demeanor had changed drastically in the moments it took him to walk outside. Perhaps he had been too impatient with him, Henry thought to himself. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned for his friend.

Redford was watching the untamed wilderness across the road; giant pine trees towering a hundred feet in the air over them. "Do you ever stop to wonder if what we're doing here is the right thing?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" replied Henry, screwing up his face in confusion.

"I mean, this forest has been here for a long time, and we're here trying to chop it down," said Redford. "Don't you think that there's something... sacred about something this old and untouched? As if it has a life of its own?"

The idea of the forest being sacred in any sense hadn't even crossed Henry's mind. It was an absurd idea, and he laughed at the thought. "Haha, no. It's just a bunch of trees and a paycheck as far as I'm concerned."

Shaking his head, Redford declared, "Well, I tried." He continued staring at the dark tree line ahead. "Just be careful out there tomorrow, you know how this forest likes to fight back." Slowly, he lifted a dinner roll to his mouth and started to chew as he stared off into the distance.

Henry didn't like his tone at all. "If you want me to go against company orders because you're scared of the trees, you're going to have to convince the foreman first!"

"That's why I like you, Hen. Always following orders," Redford said between bites. "Maybe I will talk to the foreman and see if I can get him to change his mind about what he's doing here."

"No, Redford," Henry fumed. Gesturing toward the building, he continued, "That wasn't an invitation to try. Every single person eating in there will be out of a job. You'll be out of a job!"

"Then I'll finally get some rest for once," he said as he grabbed a piece of chicken and stuffed it into his mouth. "Though, I will miss this food," he finished with his mouth full.

Disgusted and slightly outraged by Redford's candor, Henry turned around to go back inside and eat. "Cut the bullshit, Redford," he said as he reached out to push the door to the longhouse open. "I need men in the field I can trust to do their job, and that goes double for a surveyor."

"Watch out," Redford said calmly, almost under his breath.

With his attention on Redford, Henry hadn't noticed his hand was almost two feet short of the building as he leaned into the effort of opening a door that wasn't quite there. Stumbling forward, he felt his legs tangle on each other, and he nearly collided with the closed door, only barely catching himself with his outstretched hand.

"Are you okay?" asked Redford quietly, more to the trays of food than Henry.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" Henry snapped, his dignity bruised more than he was, but Redford wasn't paying him any more attention. Without another word between them, he opened the door and walked back inside.

Rattled by Redford's audacity, Henry returned to the lunch line where his tray of food was still waiting. It was normal for Redford to say things he didn't really mean, but this time it had really bothered him. Perhaps, it was due to the amount of time and frustration he had spent on this job site and barely having anything to show for it, but it was Redford's casual disregard for his duties that angered Henry most. Everyone was relying on each other to do their part, and he was suggesting that he wouldn't continue to do his.

Fishing his platter from the backside of the counter, he was dismayed to find it had gone cold while he stood outside arguing with Redford. Right as he was about to swap a warm hunk of meat from the chafing platter, one of the mess staff walked up, wiping his hands on his white apron.

"No takebacks, sonny," the older gentleman informed Henry.

Henry cursed Redford under his breath. Not only had he forced him to carry his meal and stand outside, now he was being denied a hot meal. "Please," Henry pleaded, "it cooled off while I was helping someone."

The staff member looked at Henry thoughtfully and then said, "Here." Holding out his hand, he offered to take Henry's platter of food. "I have just the thing for you!"

Unsure of what he was planning, Henry handed the platter to him.

"I'll be back in a jiffy!" he exclaimed, and with a blur of his white apron, the staff member rushed into the kitchen with Henry's platter of food.

Nervously, Henry scratched at his black beard and wondered if he should simply grab another platter and start over from the beginning of the counter, but before he could make a decision, the staff member returned, holding a steaming tray of food: Henry's food!

"Here ya go! Piping hot!" he beamed.

"How did you--" Henry started.

"HQ sent us this newfangled appliance for the kitchen," the staff member interrupted. "They call it a Radarrange. Cooks the food in mere moments, but me and the boys prefer the old fashioned ways."

Gingerly, Henry grabbed the roll from his platter, and bit into it. It was almost hot enough to burn his tongue. "Amazing," he commented. His irritation with Redford had dissolved almost completely.

"It's been helpful to have around, what with all the food they insist on sending us," continued the staff member. "All these leftovers won't have to go to waste anymore. We've been talking about keeping the mess open overnight for anyone hungry for snacks!"

"My cabin mate will be happy to hear that," replied Henry. The staff member was a bit more chatty than he was willing to tolerate while hungry. Slowly, he started to make his way toward the end of the line to grab some utensils.

Finally noticing that Henry was more interested in eating than gabbing, the staff member waved him off, "Come back for seconds if you're still hungry. We don't want to throw out any more good food!"

Tray in hand, Henry waved the man off dismissively as he walked toward the tables. At the distant head of one of the middle rows, he saw Bill chatting with a few members of their crew. Looking up from their banter, Bill noticed Henry approaching, and he signaled him over to the empty space on the bench next to him.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming," Bill said as Henry sat down. "You and Sam have that cabin so far down the line, I'm surprised you can hear the dinner bell!" He glanced around the room at the other rows of tables and the workers crowded around them, as well as the serving counter. "Where is the little guy anyway?"

"The kid said he didn't feel like walking to dinner," Henry said through a mouthful of food. Clearing his mouth and then wiping the corner of his beard on his sleeve, he added, "I'll be surprised if he lasts another week."

"Where do they find these probies, anyway?" asked Alfred, sitting to Henry's left.

Opposite to Alfred and Henry, Lou put down his paper. "HQ keeps putting out personnel ads for nature lovers," he commented idly. "They make it sound like they will be paid to relax outside in the sun all day."

"Figures," Bill said. "I bet those pencil pushers wouldn't last a day out here either."

"Don't let me hear you disparaging the company," Henry growled between bites. He knew morale was low, but after dealing with Redford, he didn't have a lot of patience left to hear it again from his team.

"Sorry, chief," said Bill.

"The company is doing their best to keep us comfortable and the operation running," Henry continued, putting down his fork. "They sent the kitchen a new contraption that cooks food in seconds. You know that wasn't cheap."

"In that case, why do they serve dinner so late?" asked Alfred rhetorically.

Henry was about to give another stern word to Alfred for continuing the negativity, but Bill piped up, "Look what the cat dragged in!"

He was nodding across the room to the wooden door. Sam had sluggishly hobbled into the lunch line, and was starting to collect his dinner.

"Well, I'll be," said Henry. "I figured the kid would be going hungry tonight!"

The group watched Sam finish serving his plate of food before waving him over. Meekly, he wandered to the end of the table where Lou scooted to the side to make room for him to sit on the bench with them.

"Rough week?" asked Bill to Sam as soon as he started eating his Salisbury steak.

Sam nodded silently. His fork was slightly quivering from his weary muscles trying to hold it steady.

"At least you're still in one piece," Lou laughed gregariously. "Did you see what happened to Team Six?" He gave Sam a friendly shove of his shoulder, but it nearly knocked the utensil out of Sam's hand.

"Lou," Henry cautioned, knowing where this was going.

"No, he should hear this," Lou shot back. "Let him appreciate his fortune!"

Sam put down his fork. In a quiet voice, barely audible over the din of the mess hall, he asked, "What happened to Team Six?"

"As you know, the north side of the woods has been practically impenetrable, but Team Six is still trying their damnedest to skim a few trees for their quota."

Sam nodded in acknowledgment as he continued eating. Henry listened intently as well, even though he already knew the story. Lou was a good storyteller, but the last thing he wanted was for Sam to find another reason to leave while morale was so low.

"So they find this big fir, all covered in moss, and they start hacking at it with their axes, but each swing bounces off the bark like all their axes are blunt as hammers. Then one of 'em goes and revvs up his chainsaw--"

"Oh no," interjected Bill. He hadn't heard the story yet.

Nodding to Bill, Lou continued, "Yup, chain broke immediately and whipped back. Tore up his arm pretty good. Turns out some jackass shoved a railroad spike into the tree."

"How did a railroad spike get into a tree in the middle of nowhere?" asked Alfred.

"Beats me, but that's not even the strange part," said Lou. "After they got back from the infirmary, they couldn't find the tree anymore. All they found was a moss covered granite boulder with a bunch of axe scars on it. Damn fools mistook a rock for a tree!" Lou burst out laughing, slapping Sam on the back and causing him to nearly choke on the roll he was chewing.

"He's fine, by the way," finished Lou. "The guy with the chainsaw just needed some bandages. But you should thank your lucky stars you're with us, Sam. A little achy muscles are the least of your worries!"

"Thanks," Sam said between coughing up the crumbs that he had inhaled after the sudden pat on the back.

Henry grimaced at the interaction. Lou was being honest, but terrifying the kid wasn't going to do their team many favors. Throwing in the towel and heading home was an option to Sam that Lou wasn't considering. For Sam, it was an extended summer job. For Lou, it was his career.

"If you've had enough scaring the kid, Lou," Henry glowered, "you all should go back to your cabins and get rested for tomorrow. I still need to talk to the foreman about the surveys he gave us."

"Oh, looking for a change of orders?" Bill asked.

"No," Henry replied flatly. "I'm not happy with our progress on the southward road. Our crew has been the safest crew in the camp, but that comes at a cost of speed."

Alfred spoke up, "We're going as fast as we can. Any faster and we'll end up blundering like Team Six!"

"I'm not complaining, Alfred," Henry stopped him from speaking further. "Managment is barking at me to push my team harder, and they can't start clear-cutting until we've reached our target."

"Maybe you can ask for more probies to help out," Lou asked with a chuckle. He gave Sam a friendly punch to his shoulder, shuddering his arm so that the meat fell off his fork before it could reach his mouth.

"That is one option," concluded Henry. "But do you want to be swinging axes around another Team Six?"

The four men remained silent while Sam managed to get his fork into his mouth for once.

"I didn't think so. Now, I'll handle management, but I need all of you at the top of your game tomorrow," Henry said grimly.

"Yes sir," the three men replied. Sam was still in the middle of chewing.

"Good. Rest up, and I will see you in the morning."

Bill, Lou, and Alfred stood up, vacating the end of the banquet table. Sam remained seated, trying to scarf as much food down as he could. All around them, the benches at the other tables were becoming increasingly empty: Dinner time was about finished for the camp.

"Try not to wait so long to eat after the dinner bell," Henry said to Sam. "Radarrange or not, the food wont wait for you forever."

Between mouthfuls, Sam murmured a faint "Sorry," before shoving more meat down.

"I'll see you back at the cabin," Henry said as he turned around to leave the table. Purposefully, he walked toward the foreman's office in back, leaving Sam alone to his meal.

---

The foreman's office was a cramped space in the back of the longhouse. Dimly lit by a single overhead electric bulb, the room was filled to the brim with paperwork on every surface, shelf, and sill. A small comms station sat in one corner, but it too was covered by several reams of documents. It was hard to tell were the walls ended and shelves began as every inch held rolled maps and diagrams, among the many other stacks of paper for acquisitions and financials for the operation. Even at a glance, it was hard to miss the red ink circling many of the figures on the top pages.

Henry peered in through the open door, politely giving it a quick knock to catch the foreman's attention. Standing over a table in the middle of the room and pouring over an unfurled map, the foreman looked up to acknowledge him.

"I'm a bit busy," replied the foreman impatiently.

"Sir?" Henry started. "I wanted to discuss the plans for my crew with you before we start tomorrow."

The foreman hesitated for a moment, and then with a frustrated sigh, he tossed the plotter pen he was holding onto the table. "Fine, I need a break anyway. What is it you want?" Quickly, he lifted a crumpled handkerchief to his nose and dabbed it gently.

"I talked with my men at dinner, and they are concerned about safety if we go faster--"

"We already had this conversation, Henry," the foreman interrupted. "Your crew is to build the south-bound service road. If your men aren't willing to do the job, I have thirty other crews more than willing to take up your task." He took a breath and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"My crew is ready and willing, sir," Henry insisted. "I came here to see if there was another route we should be taking."

Silently, the foreman waved Henry into the room and gestured to the table. "Have at it. These are the latest surveys and arial photos. See if you can find a better route through this nightmare of a forest."

Placing his palms on the wooden table, Henry bent over the map, trying to get his bearings. The enlarged photo of the forest showed a giant, amorphous blob of trees that spanned for miles. Through the north end, a clear east-bound road had been sliced through the tree line, stopping a few miles from their current position. All along the south side of the road, countless markings had been placed with the foreman's pen, each noting an incident and failure to cut into the trees. The only exception was the road Henry had been working on, placed a mile west of the heart of the forest. Whenever this picture had been taken, it appeared he and his crew had managed to reach nearly three-quarters toward the south end of the forest where the tree line ended.

"Do you have any geographical surveys?" Henry asked. The photo was a nice visual, but he wanted more info on the lay of the land.

"Here," the foreman said, pulling out a tube from the side of the table and unrolling the parchment contained within. He sniffed hard as he dropped the empty tube to the floor, wiping his nose again with the handkerchief.

"Allergies still acting up?" asked Henry.

"Always. Worst I've ever had out here," replied the foreman. Changing the subject off of himself, he traced his finger along the inked paper. "Your road is planned to go through here. We chose this route so you would avoid these low areas here and here." He pointed to two shallow valleys that were almost certain to be as unexpectedly swampy as much of the rest of the forest. "If you can find another route that won't drop all of our heavy machinery into a sinkhole, I'm open to hear it."

Henry blinked from the overhead light glinting off of the foreman's wristwatch as he withdrew it from the table. "Sir, if we can't get the road cleared safely for the trucks, what hope do we have clearing the lumber from the south side?" he asked, Redford's sentiments echoing in his mind.

"In that case, I'm pulling you off the project," the foreman grumbled darkly. "We need a new supply road north from the longhouse and back to civilization. Your crew will be open for that if you're refusing to cut down south."

Henry's heart skipped a beat in shock. He didn't mean to suggest dereliction of his duties. "Not at all, sir," he hastily blurted out. "I'm here looking for backup plans, because I want my project to succeed."

"Hrmf," replied the foreman. "You had better. Everyone else has to fumble around in the mud until you're done." Hastily, his hand holding the handkerchief shot up to his face as he tried to suppress a sneeze. "Now, hurry up and figure out what you wanted from the maps. I was about to retire for the night when you showed up."

Wasting no more time, Henry started comparing the topographical map to the enlarged arial photos; doing his best to reference landmarks and chart the future road ahead of where his team had cleared. It was going to be a rough job, even with these survey reports, and there was no clear areas he could deviate from the original plans of cutting the road directly south. However, one detail caught his eye that seemed like it had been overlooked: Nearly a quarter mile into the forest, east of where his crew had already cut through on their project, a small clearing could be seen from the air. It hardly was a clearing, but more of a void where the trees had neglected to grow.

Henry checked back with the topographical data, and between the road and the void, there was nothing to stop the road from entering the forest. He could feel his heart leap with controlled excitement. Among the rest of the map, there were no reported incidents or injuries along that edge. Tomorrow, he would check it out and see if the heavy machines could be brought in safely. Maybe, he and his crew wouldn't need to finish their road before the rest of the company could start collecting the lumber!

Opening his mouth to inform the foreman of his findings, he was stopped short by a sudden *BANG!* Out of nowhere, the double window shutters blew open with a gust of wind, causing papers to flutter all around the room.

"Damn wind," cursed the foreman as he rushed to fasten the window latch shut once more. "Third time today. With how cheaply they built this longhouse, it's amazing it's still standing!"

Henry busied himself with catching as many of the loose sheets as he could, pinning them down before they blew off their respective piles, and eventually collecting everything to hand back to the foreman. His discovery on the forest photo was momentarily forgotten.

"Here you go, sir," he said, handing them over to his superior.

"That will be enough tonight, Henry," the foreman grumbled. "The last thing I need right now is you in the way while I try to sort these again."

Henry nodded understandingly. It was a wild goose chase to look for a better route anyway. Wishing the foreman a good night, he departed the office and left the longhouse for his trek back to his cabin.

---

Sam was already sitting in his bunk when Henry arrived. The room was dimly lit once more with the kerosene lantern, but its diminutive flame left the bunks cloaked in shadows. Not wishing to disturb Sam, Henry unclasped his overalls and changed into his long johns, using the limelight of the lamp as his only cover of privacy.

"How did it go?" quietly asked Sam from his darkened bunk.

"We will be sticking with the plan," Henry said, defeatedly. "I'll keep handling management, but I'm going to need more from the rest of you too."

"I'll do my best," said the shadows.

Henry wasn't convinced that Sam meant it fully, but he knew he was having a rough time, and he may have been trying to convince himself to push forward as much as he was promising to help. Stepping over to the table spool, he blew the light out, leaving the cabin in complete blackness.

"Good night, Sam," he said as he climbed into his bunk.

"Good night, boss," Sam said.

As Henry laid down on his pillow, he heard a light rustling from Sam's bunk, and then an unmistakable sound of his lips smacking as he chewed what he could only assume was a dinner roll from the mess hall. The kid had brought food back to the cabin against the rules! Sighing, Henry turned around in his bunk with his back facing the miscreant. He would have to have a talk with him tomorrow about following his orders. But tomorrow would be a new day, and he had something new to look forward to. That void on the photo had barely left his mind since he left the foreman's office, and it was the last thing he remembered before drifting off to sleep.