As the sheets dried

I wait with great anticipation. The sheets toss and turn as heat rushes in, warming and drying to a predetermined moisture content. The bed has no sheets. It has two wadded up blankets and one wadded up cat. Of the three wads, two are silent and one gently snores. Moe. Chairman Moe. Do not cross the Chairman.

---

Knoxville's northwest side fades into mountains as you go north up I-75. But that's not important to the story. What's important to the story is that Wayne Gibbous was being stalked by a sausage man. When the driver of the sausage van saw that Wayne had seen him, he pulled around to the opposite side of the McDonald's parking lot and continued his spying.

Back in his hotel room, still with an eye on the sausage surveillance, Wayne called a cab. He had to follow this van and try to figure out how deep all this went and who was taking the lead in doing whatever it was that was being done to him. The cab showed up in about 15 minutes. Wayne went outside and gave the driver his credit card.

"Wait here, I'm not sure when I'll be going, but please wait."
"Alright, meter's running. It's your dime, brother."
"Fine."

Back inside behind the curtain he kept watch on the sausage.

"Keep your eye on the sausage."

After a few hours, at about 4:30, the van started to pull out. Wayne rushed outside and jumped in the cab.

"Follow that white truck, or van, or whatever. The one with sausage on the side."
"10-4."

They wound through some intricate streets near the University of Tennessee. The sunsphere occasionally popped into view, but only briefly. They soon were heading west to a small industrial park. Some buildings looked pretty bombed out, others were new. New like they'd never been used. The old ones looked like they'd never be used again. Each vacant in their own way. Vacant stairs. Shadows of their former selves and shadows of their future selves. For some reason there was a good bit of traffic back in this otherwise strange and empty scene. Sausage was a few hundred feet ahead. Its brake lights blinked a couple times as it turned into a fenced area.

"Stop here and wait, I'll be back in a minute."
"10-4."

Walking along, the sun was quietly dipping in the sky and a light breeze blew into his face. Wayne became more timid the closer he got to the gate. He wanted to know more, but at the same time he wanted to turn around and try to escape whatever he had gotten himself into. Jump on a Greyhound bus and go to Reno. Why Reno? Why not.

In his last few steps he saw a sign at the gate. It was old and rusty and surely wasn't the current business. Surely not. Plus, the name was too ridiculous to be real. But too fantastic not to be. After being suckered by a quarter and a milkman, nothing would really surprise him. But this... this?

"O'Ryan's Belt and Conveyor."

"O'Ryan's Belt and Conveyor?"
"What about it?"
"That truck pulled in there. What was that place?"
"Not sure, I don't get too many fares out this way. Where to now?"
"Back to the hotel."
"10-4."