I swallowed.
“The pipe. It still works.”
He looked at the water.
Then back at me.
“Congratulations. Water comes out of a hole.”
Brent snorted.
I felt my face burning.
My grandfather had died seven months earlier, and these men were standing beside the last thing he built with his own hands, treating it like garbage.
I wanted to shout.
I wanted to tell them they didn't understand anything.
Instead, I took one careful breath.
“You shouldn't touch the valve,” I said.
Danner's expression changed.
“Excuse me?”
“The big valve behind the pipe. Don't turn it. The flow has to stay balanced.”
He stared at me.
Then laughed again.
“Listen to this little engineer.”
He walked closer.
His boots sank into the mud.
“Son, I'm the county infrastructure supervisor. I've been dealing with water systems longer than you've been alive.”
I looked toward the faded warning plate attached to the pipe.
“I know.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Then you should know better than to tell me what I can touch.”
I swallowed.
“I'm telling you because if you shut that line without checking the bypass, you could damage the system.”
Danner's smile disappeared.
Then he reached into his jacket.
He pulled out a folded orange notice bearing the Laurel Ridge County seal.
With one furious movement, he slapped it against the pipe.
The paper stuck briefly to the wet rust before sliding toward the ground.
“THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING!”
I flinched.
Danner leaned close enough that I could smell coffee on his breath.
“This junk is coming out. The county has condemned it, and nobody cares what your dead grandfather thought about it.”
For a moment, the world seemed to stop.
I stared at him.
My grandfather.
He had called him dead grandfather like the words meant nothing.
Like the man who raised me, taught me to read engineering diagrams, and stayed awake beside my bed when I had pneumonia was merely an inconvenience that needed removing.
I felt tears gathering behind my eyes.
But I wouldn't let them fall.
“His name was Thomas Hale,” I said quietly.
Danner frowned.
“What?”
“My grandfather. His name was Thomas Hale.”
The man rolled his eyes.
“Fine. Thomas Hale built a pile of rusty junk. Happy?”
Brent laughed again.
I took a breath.
“No.”
Danner leaned forward.
“What's that?”
I looked directly into his face.
“Because you're wrong.”
The laughter stopped.
Russell glanced toward Brent.
Danner's expression hardened.
“You've got a real mouth on you, boy.”
I kept my hands at my sides.