A name to the place
Keeping low, they crept carefully around the edge of a roaring generator. The noise masked their footsteps, but Judy’s heart hammered with every move. Then she froze. Her eyes widened. Painted boldly across a rust-streaked tank was a name, stenciled in block letters for all to see: Benchwood Oil Mining. The words struck something inside her, familiar and unsettling. Her pulse spiked, her mind racing. She knew that name—but couldn’t place it immediately.
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