The Chardon Chronicles: Season One -- The Harvest Festival Read Online Free Page A

and just sat at his desk the
rest of the afternoon.
     
    His boss came in his office and closed the
door. “Jerry, you must wonder what you’re doing for us, right?”
     
    “I wonder, but not too much. I just do my
job.” His face didn’t give anything away.
     
    “You and I both work for Black Box Diesel
Supply… but I also work for a big, old multi-national
company. The work you’ve been doing for me lately has really been
an interview with them.”
     
    “So, is this a job offer, then? Are you
offering me a job?” He was curious, but a little angry.
     
    “I’m not. In fact, there’s not much I can
tell you myself. If you’re interested, I’ll send you over to talk
to an old friend of mine who can advise you on some important
matters.”
     
    “Hmmm…. so if I talk to him, can I say
no.”
     
    “Absolutely. This is an offer you can refuse. Either way, that box is yours--no strings--our way of
saying thanks. There should be about two hundred and fifty grand in
there. If you say no, you’ll just need to resign here, and we’ll
help you get that money tucked away safely.”
     
    He drove to a patent attorney’s office in
Cleveland. The ornately furnished office overlooked Lake Erie.
Jerry sank into a comfortable heavy chair and watched the sun shine
on rippling water. The attorney was bald and wore glasses with
thick black rims. His suit wasn’t flashy, but was well tailored and
he gave an overall impression of precision. He gave Jerry a
thorough, methodical explanation without much personal
interpretation. He set out the pros, cons and mechanics of working
for the organization. He made sure to explain what it meant to be
“let go”--at best, you just lost your job and spent years worrying
what might happen. At worst people important to you died, then you
did.
     
    Jerry barely heard the cons, and was really
flattered, almost swept away that he was being selected for a life
beyond the norm. He nodded. “OK,” he said.
     
    “You can think it over as long as you want.
This is not a choice that should be made on an impulse--you can’t
ever unmake it.”
     
    “I get that. It won’t be necessary. I’ve been
ready for something like this for a long time.”
     
    There was no ritual, no contract to sign. The
attorney took out a copied-and-recopied picture of an ink drawing
that depicted a few different handshakes. Jerry shook hands with
the attorney as instructed.
     
    All these years later, he realized the
conversation was misleading in a key way. It was the only time
information about the organization was presented in a frank and
comprehensive manner. The rest of his career had been ridiculously
cloak and dagger secret. He rarely knew why he was doing something,
and sometimes didn’t even know what he was doing.
     
    A few years ago, they moved him out of
Columbus to the boondocks of Ashtabula County. He bought a mansion
that used to be owned by a boxer. The place was set on about 100
acres of scrubby old farm fields. Behind the house were steel cages
where the boxer kept tigers and panthers as pets. Jerry started a
new career as a Libertarian firebrand AM radio host. He broadcast
from a studio in “The Compound” he called it, and his engineer
played a roar, “a sabre tooth cat” every time he said
“Compound”.
     
    He had no prior interest in politics. He got
scripts emailed every day--written by god knows who, and he acted
them out. He launched campaigns on topics he didn’t care about at
all, and hammered a few key points and catch phrases every day. The
show really took off via the Internet when he got into a social
media feud with “that libtard Danny Fitzgerald”. Danny broadcast
the “progressive” version of Jerry’s show from Vermont from “The
Pasture”.
     
    Both shows made it into the national
spotlight when Danny stopped at “The Compound” for an in-person
interview. To the audience, it appeared the two spontaneously got
into a heated argument, which then became a