Creature of Hazard
Henry had a hearty breakfast before having his head pulverized. Eggs and toast, with a healthy glass of pomegranate juice paired with sliced tomatoes. “Always eat right,” he’d say to his son. He was healthy as could be, and worked hard towards his longevity. When he clocked in that morning at the factory, there was nothing to warn him of what was to come. All the equipment was perfectly functional and everyone there seemed to be competently working at their station. All was steady and everything ran like clockwork, exactly as intended. There was only one issue, and that was the creature.
The creature had crept through a back entrance that was left open for an extended period of time the night before. Apparently while the night shift was moving in a new fleet of inventory, a strange, unknowable thing had sneaked through. So focused were they on their forklifts, and so limited were they on personnel, that they did not notice this thing was making its way down through the crevices, down through the cracks, where the machines and the wires were kept. That seemed to be the only viable explanation as to how this thing had gotten into this otherwise well-secured, well-guarded facility.
Court documents after the incident later uncovered a bevy of bite marks on the thick clusters of power cords. Therein lied the cause. That was where it all went haywire. When the gigantic hydraulic press went down on Henry’s face, his co-workers hurried as fast as they could to help him. The man at the control panel tried desperately to stop it, pressing any configuration of buttons he could conceive of to troubleshoot this malfunctioning machine. But by then it was too late. The gargantuan plate had pressed firmly onto his skull, squeezing the fluids and flattening the bone. To say that the witnesses were in shock would be a serious understatement. None were ever the same after the fact.
As for the victim’s family, they were fortunate at least, to still have had a pleasant memory of him leaving with a final fatherly smile, before driving off to work and earn their bread, one last time. That such a happy little family had to experience this was such a shame. How it all could have been avoided if the bosses had simply listened to the workers when it came to heightening security clearances and safety protocols during racoon season. The family tried to press charges, but the lawyers at the factory were hasty when it came to settling out of court. No racoon could have done that, the lawyers assured. A hefty sum let the family live in some modicum of comfort. A nicer house, a better school district all came as a result. But for young Howard, growing up without a dad certainly left a mark.
When he became a man, Howard returned to the old cursed factory, when it had become empty and desolate. Long ago, its business had all been outsourced to some foreign land where the labor was cheaper and the safety protocols were even more lax than they were here. Howard walked around, investigating the remains, circulating the property, seeing if he could spot anything indicating the burrowing of raccoons or any such thing. But since the workers had left, so had the trash. There was no life to be found in this desolate relic of past industrial glory. When he drove back to his own wife and kids, he sat quietly, listening to the country radio station, wondering what could’ve been done to make sure his father had stayed living for just a bit longer. How painfully unaware he was, that deep inside this car’s machinery, that very same creature was feasting on his wires.