In the days that followed, the town didn't sleep.
Tenants packed their belongings and ran out of their places quickly, almost too quickly. The doors slammed shut, locks on every house and buildings except for the last few remaining people who remained stubborn and refused to move out.
The Reclamation project rolled in like a plague – men in construction vests and helmets who tore down the buildings like paper. But in the end they were just following orders from the higher ups. They got paid, that was only fair.
It progressed just fine for a few days...then came the first delay. Not an accident, but a warning.
05:05pm
The blue truck with the sun peeled patchy paint rolled into the warehouse down East yard of Marlow. Dim yellow lights, rusty undercarriage and tinted windows.
Strings of smoke ran out the slightly open window from the driver's seat. Butts of smoked cigarettes crunched up in the ash tray by the corner of the dashboard.
The man in the truck was Lennox Bernt, 25 and smoking his way to his grave. He's never given a shit about the work he's asked to do for other people, whether it was putting bullets through someone's head or licking off the dirt from someone's shoes – He was happy as long as he got paid.
He breathed out another puff of smoke then there were more trucks that rolled into the warehouse, one by one, six trucks came in–all carrying loads of construction resources.
When the engines died down, Lennox got out of his truck, not bothering to close the door behind him.
One of the men jumped down from the truck, glancing towards the blue truck then at Lennox.
They exchanged a brief nod. That was all that it took.
The heavy crates started rolling out, stacked in an unorganized manner but it wouldn't matter anyway.
Lennox gives a final glance towards the man and then they get to work. Drums of gasoline were poured out on those crates generously, then one of the men flicked his lighter up, giving a final glance to the crates before throwing the burning flame onto the gasoline soaked crates. And up did they go in large fires. But they were not done yet. Another heavy set of crates were dumped into the water by the other guy– cement, concrete bags, bricks and blocks, sand and wires, they all drowned in the water.
The job was done. The men starts to drive away after the final confirmation nod from Lennox. He picks up his phone from the pocket of his jeans, dials a number and waits for the other person to answer.
"Yes..?" The call is answered by a familiar voice, it was Marcie.
Lennox answers-
"The job's been done just as you said."
"Good."
"Same routine for the next deliveries too?"
"Yes."
Marcie hangs up the call with a satisfied grin, setting his phone away on his bed as he walks to the window, looking down on the streets of Marlow. He looked pleased with his own work, even more pleased because he knew he definitely pissed Nathaniel off with this move. A huge amount of the construction resources burnt and drowned just like that.
While, Lennox stands there infront of the burning crates.
"..that son of a bitch." He curses, taking one last puff from the cigarette before flicking it away. He turns back to his truck and gets in the driver's seat.
5:55pm, and the fire crackles behind the scene as he drives away.