The Garbage Men

The two garbage men move quietly down the empty road behind the slow-moving truck. The truck rumbles ahead of them, its large tires digging rivets in the dirt. The holding container is twice the size of a normal garbage truck. They always try to move quickly and fill it to maximum capacity. It is imperative they clean up as much as possible before night. The animals always make a mess of things.

The two men walk on opposite sides of the truck. The one on the right is tall, with a weary and fatigued face graced by the stubble of a graying beard. He walks with a slight limp. His face shows the weariness and fatigue of his age. The job has taken its toll on him, it no longer bothers him. He bends down with a crick in his back, picking up another piece of garbage.

With a heave he tosses it into the truck. The giant maw of the compacter accepts the stinking object hungrily. It crushes the garbage with a loud crunching noise. The flies that could escape the destruction buzz angrily past the men. Frank swats a few errant insects away. The sounds and the smells no longer bother him either.

His partner is different. Much younger in both appearance and spirit. And he lets Frank know it. He goes about the job with energy that Frank hasn’t known for years. Frank watches his young partner, seeing him grimace as he handles the garbage. It isn’t a job for the weak of heart or stomach. Every day Frank wonders how much longer it will be before Kyle quits. He doesn’t give him long.

They pass much of the day in silence. At least Frank does. Kyle talks to hear his voice, to keep his mind off what he is doing. Frank just listens grunting occasionally in acknowledgement. It’s not because he has nothing to say, but because Kyle always ends up on the same subject. The job. And Frank has heard it all before.

“There has to be a better way or something,” Kyle says. Frank just grunts as he picks up a piece of garbage and tosses it into the truck.

“Don’t you think, Frank?” Kyle asks, looking his way around the back of the truck.

“This is the best way to do it. We’ve decided that already. Besides, there’s so much trash, we don’t have time to do it any other way. These streets need to be clean, Franks says trying to end the conversation before it goes any further.

But Kyle continues to talk of his plans and various ways to change the job. Make it better. He sounds like the other young man before him. Ordinarily, Frank would tell him to be quiet, but he lets him speak his mind. One thing he’s noticed about young people is that they can’t leave well enough alone. They are always trying to change things.

“Help me with this one,” Frank says, trying to pick up a piece of trash. Kyle walks over and picks up one end. They swing it into the end of the truck. Kyle walks back to his side while the truck grinds the trash. He doesn’t speak anymore. He can tell when Frank has had enough.

The sun begins to descend, and day slowly starts to become night heralding the end of another workday. Suddenly the truck comes to a halt. The driver pokes his head out of the window and bangs on the door. The two garbage men wait for his word.

“One more, boys, and this baby is full. Quota met. We’ll make our way back to town and be home before night fall.”

The driver’s voice comes in clear over the headpiece in their face masks. Frank has been waiting for those words all day long. He nods towards Kyle, who is picking up the last piece of garbage for the day. Frank walks over to him.

“Will we ever be done?”

This question takes Frank by surprise. He doesn’t know how to answer.

“As long as there is garbage to clean, we will have a job to do, Frank says uncertainly.

“I wish you wouldn’t call…”

“We’ve been through this. The less you know the better. The easier everything will be for you. Trust me on that, Frank says, interrupting him.

Kyle sighs. He picks something off the trash. It’s a heart shaped locket. Frank sees him do it but says nothing. He takes the thing from Kyle and for the first time in months takes a good look at it. He shakes his head.

“What does it say?” He asks, handing it back to Kyle, not really wanting the answer.

“To Amie, From Mom. So you’ll always remember, Kyle says, reading the inscription on the locket’s back.

“The less you know, Frank says, shaking his head.

The older man tosses the body into the truck. The metal teeth grind into it with a sickening crunch. A large metal door slams over the truck’s mouth, indicating a full tank. The two garbage men head towards the cab of the truck, ready to go home. Kyle pauses and studies the heart shaped locket. He opens it gingerly and stares at the faded burnt picture of a small girl and an older woman.

For the first time since starting this job, Kyle feels a tear run down his cheek. It’s obscured by the gas mask he wears and he’s glad that Frank can’t see it. In the old world there was time for emotion. Now, with the world in ashes, all you could do was pick up the pieces and move on.

Frank climbs up to the passenger door, but looks down at Kyle before going in.

“What are you going to do with that anyway?”

Kyle looks up at his partner and shrugs.

“I don’t know.” He says it quietly as Frank shakes his head and climbs into the cab. As Frank disappears into the cab, Kyle hangs the heart shaped locket around his neck.

“So you’ll always remember.” He murmurs as he climbs into the cab behind Frank.

He thinks that might not be such a bad thing.

To remember.

The End