MUCK

A Site Story

Crimson L Ace

DarkLacePress

Two men. One site.

String vests. Rigger boots. High-vis tied at the waist. A trench full of clay, a cabin kettle that never quite gets poured, and the kind of work you don’t put on the timesheet.

CHAPTER I

THE TRENCH

The site was a raw scrape of clay and wet earth after two days of rain. Two men were finishing the last of the trench work before knock-off. Both were built like they’d been poured into their kit: thick necks, heavy shoulders, tattoos climbing out of string vests and disappearing under high-vis. Hard hats still on. Rigger boots caked to the ankle.

Dean was the bigger of the two. Forearms like hams, a faded swallow across one bicep, a line of script down his ribs that the vest didn’t quite cover. His mate, Kev, was leaner through the waist but just as packed—veined arms, a chest that stretched the string vest until the fabric sat like a second skin. Both of them sweating through the mesh, mud up their shins, the kind of men who didn’t talk much unless they were winding each other up.

“Watch that bit,” Dean said, nodding at the slop. “It’s like fucking glue.”

Kev snorted and stepped in anyway. His right boot went down and stayed. He tugged. Nothing. He planted the other foot and yanked harder. The boot didn’t move. The mud made a wet, sucking sound.

“You stuck, you daft cunt?”

“Piss off.” Kev twisted, put his weight into it. The boot stayed put. He lost his balance on the next pull. His foot came clean out of the rigger, sock and all, and sank knee-deep into the cold, heavy clay. He swore, loud, one hand on the trench edge, the other grabbing at nothing.

Dean laughed until he saw the look on Kev’s face. Then he waded in. The mud took him to mid-calf. He got a hand under Kev’s arm and hauled.

“Leave it,” Kev muttered. “I’ll get the boot after.”

Dean didn’t let go. He had Kev half-turned, chest to chest, both of them breathing hard. The string vest was plastered to Kev’s pecs. Mud streaked up his thigh where the boot had come off. Dean’s hand stayed on him longer than it needed to.

“You’re a state,” Dean said, ...