by Lynn Austin
“Ike said they had found a new vein.”
“It doesn’t make any sense to mine a new vein in another shaft if the old one hasn’t played out. And according to those files we found, they could have kept digging in that original shaft for years. If they started a new one, they’d have to lay new tracks and hire more workers, yet production was slowing down after the stock market crash. I think Hank’s accident was a setup. That’s why I need to see the site.”
“But the mine entrance is all boarded up. How will you get inside?”
“That shouldn’t be hard. I’ll just pry off some boards.”
“Wait. The guard is going to come along and see that the boards are pried away. Remember how carefully he looked it over the last time?” I remembered lying in the bushes, terrified that we would get caught as we watched the guard search the mine entrance and shine his light all around.
“I don’t have all the details figured out, Alice, but I know I need to go back there. Will you help me or not?”
My heart felt like a dead weight in my chest. “When?”
“Tomorrow night. I can’t wait for the next new moon. If it rains like it has for the last few nights, it’ll be dark enough.”
“Oh, Mack. Isn’t there any other way?”
“No.” He rose to his feet and reached for my hand to pull me up. “Come on, I want to show you where I hide my manuscript, along with the papers for the mining officials—just in case. You’ll need to mail them if anything happens to me.”
“It sounds like you don’t think you’ll escape this time.”
“Not at all. I’m simply taking precautions.”
He led the way into the cabin and pushed aside a pile of dead leaves to reveal a trapdoor beneath the floorboards. Mack had lined the space with feed sacks and wrapped the two packages in oilcloth to make them waterproof.
“This packet of papers goes to Washington,” he told me, “and this one is my book. The addresses for both of them are inside.” Mack wore a satisfied smile, but I felt sick with fear for him—and for Lillie, if anything happened to him.
“Can’t you just turn in the documents you already have? Why not let the government officials go inside to look at the shaft?”
“They may not want to come back to Acorn unless I can offer them some new compelling evidence. Please help me, Alice.”
I closed my eyes. I knew he was waiting for my reply, but I didn’t want him to go back to the mine. It was too big of a risk. I had a very bad feeling about his plan this time, knowing what would happen if he were caught. I needed to stall Mack, hoping he would change his mind. “Does it have to be tomorrow night? That wildcat is still roaming around, you know.”
“We’ll be fine. I swear that this will be the last favor I’ll ever ask of you. Once I deliver this information to Washington, I won’t have to worry about hiding out anymore. I can come home and take care of Lillie. And you can go home.”
I could go home. It was what I wanted, wasn’t it?
“But wait . . . you still don’t know who tried to kill you, do you?”
“Well, no, not for certain. Why are you so reluctant to help me this time, Alice?”
“Because I care about you! I don’t want anything to happen to you!” I blurted the truth without thinking.
Mack looked so stunned by my confession that I hurried to amend my words. “Everyone cares about you, Mack, but especially Lillie. She loves you like a son. She told me the other day that she’s ready to leave this world, but she’s just hanging on until you’re settled down. She has lost so many loved ones already that it would be a catastrophe if something happened to you.”
Mack reached for my hand. “Then help me, Alice. Please. I can’t do it alone.”
The weather worked in Mack’s favor on Friday night. Clouds padded the heavens like a layer of thick felt, obscuring the three-quarter moon and the stars, muffling the forest sounds. Rain drizzled on and off, as if unable to make up its mind. I hadn’t been able to make up my mind, either. Should I stay at Mack’s cabin where I’d be safe, or join him on his insane quest?
In the end, I decided to join him. Mack still hadn’t fully recovered from his gunshot wound, and I’d been so wrapped up with Ike and Maggie and June Ann and the baby that I hadn’t been paying attention to how thin and weak he looked. Worse, I kept forgetting to tell Lillie that he needed medicine. I knew how much he meant to Lillie, how she couldn’t bear to lose him, yet I had been negligent. The least I could do was go to the mine with him and be his lookout.
Belle must have sensed my determination because she didn’t throw one of her horse fits when I saddled her up late that night in the misty rain. Her attitude toward me had changed ever since I’d made her obey me on the day of the thunderstorm. It was as if I had earned her respect. Who would have ever thought that I’d learn to ride a horse—and a temperamental one at that?
We arrived at Mack’s cabin without incident and left the saddle and bridle behind, like we had the last time. “Where’s my rifle?” Mack asked, glancing all around.
“I didn’t bring it. Lillie wouldn’t let me.”
“She wouldn’t let you? Why not?”
“I don’t know, but she got all funny about it when I asked her where the ammunition was, and she said you didn’t need to bring your gun this time. She said the Good Lord would watch over us.”
“That’s just great! We need that rifle, Alice. Lillie didn’t have a problem with us bringing it along the last time.”
“Don’t get mad at me,” I said, holding up my hands. “I’m just the messenger. I would have brought the rifle, but I figured it would be useless without bullets—just like last time.”
Mack huffed as if trying to control his temper. “Did you remember to bring the miner’s hat?”
“Yes. And this time we won’t leave it in the saddlebag, will we?” I wanted him to know that the responsibility for the mistake last time had been equally shared.
We rode Belle bareback up through the coal black woods. I felt untethered without a saddle and stirrups, as if I might slide off Belle’s broad back. The eerie ride seemed to take even longer than it had the last time as we navigated the dark, featureless forest. Just as I spotted the coal tipple ahead of us, the rain began to fall in earnest. Mack drew Belle to a halt at the edge of the clearing and climbed off, then caught me as I slid off.
“I’m going to leave Belle here,” he whispered. “Do you want to wait here with her?”
“No. I’ll come with you. At least it will be dry inside the mine.”
Mack didn’t spend as much time surveying the area as he had before, quickly leading the way to the mine entrance, stopping every few yards to look around. There was no sign of a guard or any activity at the deserted mine. In the distance, the ghost town looked forlorn in the dismal rain.
“You be the lookout while I break in,” Mack said. “Watch for the guard’s car. You did a great job spotting it last time.” Mack worked for fifteen minutes before finally managing to pry off a piece of one of the thick boards that sealed the entrance. But it had splintered in the process and would be noticeable to an alert guard.
“There’s nothing I can do about it,” he said when I pointed out the mess he’d made. “The hole has to be big enough to squeeze through. Is the coast still clear?”
“Yes, as far as I can tell . . .” I felt shaky with nerves. My mind had spun with fear ever since Mack and I had begun this journey. Mack put his hands on my shoulders as if to steady me and looked me in the eye, his expression serious.
“I need you to stay here and keep watch for me. If anyone comes, don’t worry about me. You run into the woods, find Belle, and get out of here.”
“How is that keeping watch? I’m not going to leave you trapped in the mine. You said they would kill you if you’re caught.”
“True. But that makes it dangerous for you, too.”
“I don’t think they’d dare kill me. My family would ask too many questions if anything
happened to me.” I didn’t say it out loud, but I clung to the hope that no one would dare to harm Mack, either, if I was a witness.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
I exhaled, then nodded. Fear sat on my chest like a hundred-pound sack, making it hard to breathe.
We dropped to our stomachs on the wet ground and wiggled through the opening into the mineshaft. Mack went first. Once inside, I stood up and brushed mud and dirt from my clothes while he reached through the hole and tried to prop the splintered board in place so it wouldn’t be as noticeable.
“Can we light the miner’s lamp now?” I asked. “I can’t see my hand in front of my face.” Before Mack could reply, I head a rustling noise, like the wind rushing through the leaves, and I saw a dark mass moving and swirling just inches above my head. I recognized the sound from my experience with the bat in my bedroom, but this time it was multiplied a hundredfold. I crouched down beside Mack and covered my head, trying not to scream as the cloud of bats swarmed around us. At last, they poured out into the night, flying between the cracks in the boards that covered the entrance.
“They’re gone,” Mack said. I heard the relief in his voice.
“Can we please light the lamp now?”
“Not yet. We need to conserve fuel. I don’t want to use it all up before I have a chance to inspect the accident site.”
I felt shaky and out of breath. The shaft was as stuffy and airless as a closet and smelled like the coal cellar in the basement of my father’s church. “I’m having an attack of claustrophobia. How can the miners stand it in here all day?”
“They get used to it. Let’s start walking. We can follow the rail tracks for the coal carts. Here, hold my hand.” He groped in the dark until he found my hand. I couldn’t seem to breathe right. Mack’s breaths were rapid and shallow, too, as we inched our way forward, deeper into the mine. We were going to get lost in this cave, like Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher. The town wouldn’t hold another funeral for Mack, but maybe they would for me.
“I’ve read books that described ‘stygian darkness,’ ” I said, “but this is the first time I’ve ever experienced it.”
“How did they end—those books about stygian darkness? Happily-ever-after or not?”
“I don’t remember. I just remember the word stygian. I thought it was a great word.”
“Yeah, it is. I love words like that.”
“Me too. But stygian isn’t so great now that I’m experiencing it.”
“Careful!” Mack said when I stumbled over one of the railroad ties. I was shuffling forward with one arm outstretched, like a game of blind man’s bluff.
“The darkness feels so heavy!” I breathed.
“That’s how it’s described in the Bible, remember? During one of the ten plagues in Egypt, it was a darkness you could feel.”
“I don’t like it. And I can feel the weight of the mountain above us, too. Can’t you, Mack? It feels like the rocks are closing in on us.”
“That’s what comes from reading too many books. They give you an overactive imagination.”
“Well, you read a lot of books, too.”
“I know, and I’m having the same problem you are.” He gave a nervous laugh.
We edged forward in silence for a few minutes until I found it unbearable. The warmth of Mack’s hand was comforting, but I needed to hear his voice. “Talk to me, Mack.”
“Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
“For starters, I don’t understand how you’re going to find the place where Hank was killed when we can’t even see each other.”
“I have my right hand on the wall alongside us. The accident report said the cave-in that killed Hank was in a shaft on the north side, which is on our right. I should feel an opening when we come to it.”
“Have you always been this courageous?”
“I’m not courageous at all. But I caused this mess, so I need to see it through. You’re pretty brave yourself to come along, even though this has nothing to do with you.”
“I’m not sure if it’s bravery or stupidity. I’ve never done anything like this in my life. In fact, I’ve never done anything!” The truth gave me a lump in my throat. “You asked me about my story . . . well, the truth is, I’ve never really lived. Delivering books to Kentucky was the most adventurous thing I’ve ever done. But ever since I arrived in Acorn, I’ve been forced to do things I’ve only read about in books. My entire trip has all the elements of a badly written novel, with you getting shot, the corrupt sheriff, the buried treasure, the feud . . . and now this! My life is going to seem boring when I get home.”
“But I’m guessing you’ll be glad to get back to normal.”
“You know, I don’t think I want my life to be the same as before. Home will look different, I think. And I’m different. I want to get more involved in life from now on, instead of just reading about it in books. I want to spend more time with people.” I was surprised by my own confession. “If I’ve learned anything while I’ve been here, it’s how important it is to have family and friends and people around us to share our lives with. Miss Lillie is so . . . unique. I could never forget her. Or Maggie and June Ann, either. Then there’s Ike and Cora and Faye and Marjorie and Alma. And the people on my route . . . they’re all such characters.”
“You must have friends and family back in Illinois.”
“I do. I even had a boyfriend. But I was never involved in Gordon’s life, not in a genuine heart-to-heart way. I’m ashamed to say that he was convenient and little else. No firecrackers ever went off. No romantic violins played music in the background when we were together. I’m thankful now that he broke up with me. What a tedious life we would have had.”
“What about friends?”
“I have a best friend, Freddy. But I’ve come to see that I used her without giving very much in return. Most of the time, the characters I read about in books seemed more real to me than either Gordon or Freddy did. I spent all my time reading instead of living.”
I didn’t know why I was baring my soul to Mack. Perhaps it was the anonymity of darkness that made it easier. Or maybe fear and the threat of danger had prompted the need to confess and repent. Either way, I was finally seeing the truth—seeing the light, as they say—even though I was in absolute darkness.
Suddenly, Mack lurched sideways and nearly lost his balance. “Sorry . . . There’s an opening here. Maybe it’s the side shaft. Stay here, Alice. I’ll go in a little ways and see where it goes.” He released my hand.
“Don’t get lost,” I called. I longed to beg him not to leave me, but I made up my mind to be brave. I could hear his shuffling footsteps for a minute or two, then silence. What if he fell into a hole? What if something grabbed him? What if he got lost and never returned? I stood in the darkness, alone, trying very hard not to scream. It seemed like an eternity passed before Mack called out, “I’m coming back. Talk to me so I can find you.”
“I’m here . . . keep following my voice . . . I’m right here.” I could feel his presence moments before he bumped into me and reached for my hand. I couldn’t even describe the enormous relief I felt from the comfort and warmth of another person, especially from Mack.
“That wasn’t the place we’re looking for,” Mack said. “It came to a dead end after only a few yards, and there was some equipment or something stored in there.”
We continued forward, hand in hand, following the rail tracks. I started babbling again, needing to hear my own voice. “I don’t think I could ever get used to this darkness. This must be what books call ‘absolute darkness.’ And didn’t Jesus say something in the Bible about sinners being thrown into outer darkness as a punishment?”
“Yeah, where there’s weeping and gnashing of teeth.”
“My father preached a sermon about hell one time, and he said we would not only be in total darkness in hell, but we’d be alone, isolated from other people and from God. You left me alone for only a few minutes back there, but I
can see how spending an eternity like that would be the worst sort of hell.”
“That was one of the reasons I came back to Acorn. I felt so alone when I was up in Ohio on my own.”
Suddenly I ran smack into something hard and unyielding. I stumbled backward and fell, crying out in pain. Mack dropped to his knees beside me, feeling for me. “Alice! Alice, what happened? Are you okay?”
“I don’t know. I . . . I bumped into something.”
“Let me see.” He moved away from me, and I could hear his boots scuffing on the loose stones as he felt around in the dark. “It’s an ore cart. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize they would leave one parked in the middle of the tracks. Are you hurt?”
“Nothing seems to be broken or bleeding. My shins feel bruised, but I’ll be okay.” He helped me up, then switched places with me.
“You feel along the wall for a while, and I’ll follow the tracks in case there’s another cart in the way.” We started shuffling forward again.
“How far have we walked?” I asked. “And how far does this mineshaft go?”
“I’d say we’ve gone about half a mile. But the shaft might be miles long. And we’ve been going slowly downhill—have you felt it?”
“No. And I did not need to know that fact. I feel like I’m buried alive as it is.”
I lost all track of time as we continued walking. Twenty minutes or two hours might have passed, I didn’t know. My bruised shins throbbed. We moved slowly as if blindfolded, following the rail tracks. My left hand was in Mack’s and my right hand trailed along the cold, rough wall, feeling for an opening. The thought of retracing our steps made me want to sit down and cry, but the alternative—being lost in here forever—was unthinkable.
Right then the wall vanished and my hand groped empty air. “Mack, wait! The wall just ended. There’s an opening here.” He let go of my hand to investigate, and I heard him moving around in the dark.
“There aren’t any rail tracks going in,” he said, “and the opening is about six feet wide. Wait here for me, Alice. Keep facing the way we’ve been walking so we don’t get turned around accidentally.”