Page 13 of Wild Return
Wind rattles the metal roller door that leads outside, and rain pummels the metal. The temperature is cooler in here, and there’s only the roller door between us and the storm.
In the corner is the metal dockyard cage where the generator is. I grab my key chain from around my waist and fumble as I try to remember which key it is.
“Hold this.” I hand Sydney the flashlight, and she shines it on the bunch of keys. The first one I try doesn’t work. Nor does the second.
Sydney pulls out her phone and glances at the time. “We’ve got five minutes until the battery runs out.”
The third key unlocks the cage, and I slide it open and step inside. Sydney squeezes in behind me, and I take the flashlight back while she holds up the light from her phone.
“The fuel tank shows half full.” Sydney shouts to be heard over the wind battering the metal door.
My flashlight beam sweeps over the generator until I see the problem. A tripped coolant sensor.
“Hold the light,” I shout back.
Sydney nods and takes the flashlight off me. There’s a tool kit in the corner of the cage, and I grab a wrench and a screwdriver then edge back to the faulty sensor. My back’s pressed against the metal of the cage, and there’s just enough room to maneuver.
Sydney shimmies up close to me and angles the light on the sensor. The bolt is rusty, and it takes a few turns before I get it off.
The switch is blown, and it’s not going to be a quick fix. The best I can do is bypass the switch and get the generator operational. After the storm, we’ll need to fix it properly, but for now I rewire the switch and take it offline.
“Give that a try.”
Sydney switches the main power, and the generator splutters to life. Lights in the loading bay flick on, and her face is illuminated in a smile.
“We did it!”
My grin matches her own.
With the generator working, we’ve saved the last six weeks of brewing. Sydney’s stubbornness about not going home just saved the brewery a massive loss.
Her grin turns to a frown. “If a tree came down on the power lines, then it could be a while before the main line is restored.”
“We’ll turn off everything that’s not necessary,” I finish her thought. “So the power only goes to the tanks.”
We lock the cage back up and switch off the loading bay lights as we go. Then we work through the building, turning off every light, computer, and snack machine.
The final stop is another check in on the control panel.
The flashing red light on the fermentation panel is a calm steady green, and the alarm has stopped. Sydney checks the fermentation levels and nods, satisfied.
“We’d better let Barrels know before he attempts to drive here and save the beer.”
I fire off a text to Barrels letting him know the generator is working, and the beer is saved.
“I’d better let Nate know I’m safe.”
As Sydney texts her brother, I stare at my blank phone. There’s no one waiting for me at home. No one to worry if I’m stuck in the storm.
I slide my phone back in my pocket. It’s been that way all my life. No point crying about it now.
A slice of lightning lights up the brewery floor, and the accompanying thunder shakes the building.
“Let’s get to the cellar.” I steer Sydney toward the stairs, and she doesn’t brush my hand off her shoulder. “There’s one small window. We’ll be safe down there.”
The thick stone walls block out the worst of the storm as we descend into the cellar. The rows of kegs loom in the darkness, picked up only by the beam of my flashlight.
“It’s eerie down here in the dark.”
