AT PRECISELY ten o’clock, Kate found Bart the brewmaster by a large wipe-off board where he was scribbling dates and other random things. Floyd, his assistant, stood to his right. The older man possessed a rather impressively sized beer belly. Kate had to appreciate a guy who showed that much love for his chosen career.
Next to Floyd was Nan O’Brien, assistant brewer number two. Nan was an Amazon of a woman, at least six feet tall, and fit. A hunter, triathlete, and seasoned sailor, Nan could whip any television survival show dude with one arm tied behind her back.
“Hey, Bart,” Kate said. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Let’s talk before we get started,” he said. He waved off his assistants, telling them they’d finish later.
Kate joined him at the whiteboard. “So tell me what you’re going to be doing back here today.”
“I’m going to be getting another batch of Dog Day ready to boil, which means that
She looked around. “The whole place?”
He laughed. “It looks like you’re in need of a little more training, eh?”
Bart led her across the room and patted a big, almost bullet-shaped, tank that stood seven or so feet tall. “This is the brewhouse. A thirty-barrel brewhouse, to be exact. And those other tanks attached to it are the fermenters. After the boil, the wort is sent through the pipes to its left, and into those fermenters, where the yeast is added.”
Really, the brewhouse was kind of pretty, all copper and stainless and shiny. And it looked very clean already, which she pointed out to Bart.
“It’s not the same picture on the inside, and that’s what you’re going to be concerned with,oncn alrea” he said.
“Hang on. You mean I have to get in there?”
“Yes. And believe me, it’s a much easier fit for someone your size than it is for me or Nan or Floyd.” He hitched his thumb toward the two assistant brewers who were now in conversation by the door to the large keg cooler room.
Great, Kate thought. She’d panicked in the walk-in a few weeks ago, and that room had nothing on this bomb- like capsule.
“I’m not a huge fan of dark, enclosed spaces,” she told Bart.
“Who is, other than bats and mushrooms? You’ll have a flashlight. And you won’t be in there long. It’s just a matter of doing a wipe-down to get rid of any leftover debris from the last batch before we quick-flush the system.”
“Right, then,” she said over the scared slamming of her heart.
“You’ll be fine. I promise. I’ve got to get a couple of things lined up for a meeting with Matt, but Floyd and Nan will get you set up and keep a good eye on you.”
He called them over, and Kate began to reconcile herself to this process. All the same, she was no longer impressed by the brewhouse’s shiny rivets and copper accents. And its pressure gauges, valves, and pipes freaked her out.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Nan said. “We’ll help you get in through that hatch at the top and then hand the supplies to you.”
“How about I just watch you this time and I do it the next?” she asked Nan.
The other woman grinned. “Let me think about it.
It had been worth a shot.
“I’ll be right back with water, towels, and a flashlight,” Nan said. “Floyd, why don’t you grab the ladder?”
Floyd returned with the ladder, set it up, and climbed a couple of steps until he could reach the hatch at the top of the brewhouse. Once it was open, he scrambled back down.
“I’ve got it secured. Your turn now,” he said.
“Okay…”
Nan returned and handed her the flashlight. Kate jammed it into the back of her jeans, for lack of another secure location that would also keep her hands free.
“You’re a big, strong dog who can jump high,” she said to herself.
“What?” Nan asked.
“It works on my dog when she’s scared, so I thought I’d give it a try on me,” Kate said as she climbed the ladder. But the affirmation hadn’t helped. She peered into the darkness and then back at the assistant brewers. “So I justS” 2026;”
“Climb in,” Nan said.
Kate took a deep breath and tried to maneuver her body down the hole. Coordination and grace were not going to be part of the equation. She slid through the hatch in the top of the brewhouse, dropping herself into the darkness.
Once there, she sat and assessed the situation. Except for the lingering, evil smell of hops, it could have been worse. Light shone in through the open hatch like a big, fat ray of hope, and the confines weren’t as tight as she’d thought they would be. She pulled the flashlight from the back of her jeans and switched it on. Nothing happened.
“Hey, the flashlight batteries are dead,” she called to Nan.
Nan’s face appeared in the hatchway. “I could look for more, but by the time I find them, you’ll be done.” She threw a roll of paper towels down to Kate, quickly followed by a spray bottle.
“Nan, Floyd, come on into my office. It’s time to meet with Matt,” Kate heard Bart saying.
Nan stuck her head in the hatch again. “Sounds like I have to take off.”
“Couldn’t you hang on a minute?” Kate asked. She liked knowing there was a lifeline outside her copper kettle.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re going to do great,” Nan said. “Be sure to pay attention to all the seams and outlets. That’s where the grunge sticks. Just throw the used paper towels out the top.”
“Okay,” Kate said. There was no answer. Nan had disappeared.
And the sooner Kate finished, the sooner she could stop being brave. She ripped a couple of paper towels off the roll and reached for the spray bottle. Taking a top-down approach, she began to wipe the tank’s interior and hum a little vintage Eric Carmen, which she knew courtesy of her parents’ ancient stereo. When she reached the chorus, she burst into full song.
“
The tank’s hatch fell shut with a clang.
“Hey, I wasn’t even off-key,” she said.
And then reality hit her. She was trapped. Sweat popped out on her palms and, she was pretty sure, the soles of her feet.
“You’re a big, strong dog who can jump high,” she said.
Kate braced herself on the sides of the tank and pushed at the hatch. It didn’t give. She might be a big, strong dog, but she couldn’t sit alone in a metal coffin.
“Come on! Open the hatch!” she shouted.
The only answer was the rattle of the ladder being removed. And then water began flowing into the tank. It crept its way up her ankles and to her calves, and panic ss, s and to et in, big-time.
“Someone,
Kate kicked at the side of the tank. She knew what was going to happen next. Wort was boiled. She was about to be boiled alive.
MATT PAUSED in his discussions with his brewing staff.
“Did you hear something?” he asked Bart.
“Just you being too damn stubborn about the winter ale recipe,” Bart said.
“No, from out there.”
