Written in the Scars

by Adriana Locke

  “I can’t eat anything,” Lindsay says behind me. Her voice is devoid of emotion. Like me, she’s completely spent in every way.

  She stands, grabbing the armrest of the chair and steadying herself. “I just keep thinking I fought with him for the last few weeks about moving. I just pushed and pushed and . . .” She bends at the waist, her head in her hands. “He left for work mad at me.”

  I spring to my feet and hug her, tears flowing down my cheeks. “He’s never mad at you. He loves you so much.”

  “They should have some news for you soon.” Dr. Walker chooses his next words carefully. “I know you’re scared right now, ladies, and that’s understandable. But can I be honest with you?”

  My head turns slowly until I’m facing him. I’m unable to smile, to nod, to tell him he can say whatever he wants because I’m numb.

  “Your husband and brother are both strong men. I’ve known Ty since he was a boy and would come into my office and ask for the requisite sucker and sticker before his appointment, not after. And Jiggs . . .” He chuckles and looks away for a moment. “I’ve known your brother since he came to me his freshman year for a physical for football. He made a not-so-gentle comment about me asking him to look away and cough.”

  The corner of my lip twitches. “I can only imagine.”

  “I’m sure you can,” he says. “You know, in my area of expertise, we believe in the science of things. In cold, hard facts. But I’ve always believed, even in med school, that there was more to it than that. That people can feel other people’s thoughts and wishes. And after all that schooling and thirty years of practice, I still do.”

  He kneels in front of me, glancing over my shoulder at Lindsay for a split second. “I know you’re scared. You have every right to be. But you need to be strong. For you,” he says, before tapping my belly, “for the baby. For your brother and husband and Cord . . . and for Lindsay.”

  “But I’m not strong right now,” I whimper.

  “You are stronger than you realize, sweetheart. I want you to dig deep and think about what I’ve said. Send your boys below some good vibes, let them know the world is praying for them and pulling for them.”

  My brows pull together. “The world?”

  “It’s all over the media, Elin. It’s breaking news on the major stations. They have this place locked down tight.”

  “My God . . .” My head buries in my hands. “Will this make it harder for Blackwater to focus?”

  “I think they’re actually getting some help from experts they wouldn’t have access to normally,” Dr. Walker says. “I think this is a good thing.” His face scrunches and he takes a deep breath. “But I think you need to prepare yourself in case this doesn’t end up the way we want it.”

  “No . . .”

  “Elin,” he says, his hand landing on my knee, “I’m not saying it will, but I don’t want you unprepared if bad news is delivered.”

  “You think there’s a way to prepare for that?” My head buries in my hands before something pops in my mind. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure,” Dr. Walker says.

  “Can you make sure someone is taking care of Yogi? It’s Cord’s dog and he’ll be pissed if we forget about his girl.”

  I begin to cry again when a sound catches my attention. A knock raps on the door and it pushes open. I’m glad for the distraction, realizing it might save me from punching the doctor in the face.

  Vernon is followed by Greta, Reed, and another man in a blue pinstriped suit that introduces himself to Lindsay and I as she sits beside me.

  “Any news?” I ask as Dr. Walker turns to leave. I grab his hand, needing his support. He moves behind me—one hand on my shoulder and the other on Lindsay’s.

  “Yes, actually.”

  My heart lodges in my throat, my hand squeezed tightly by Lindsay as Reed busies himself pinning a map of some sort to the wall in front of us.

  “This is a bird’s eye view of the mine,” Vernon says, motioning to the drawing. “The area in that circle is where the miners should be.”

  “How far down is that?” I ask. I’m not sure why it matters, but it does.

  “About three hundred to four hundred feet below the surface,” Vernon answers stiffly. “The ramp they used for ingress and egress is sealed. We’ve tried to remove the debris and reach them through that channel, but it’s too tight and we can’t guarantee more internal collapse wouldn’t happen if we disturbed the wrong area.”

  “So what do we do?” Lindsay asks.

  Reed clears his throat. “Right now, we’re digging an air hole into this spot.” He uses a yard stick to point to a location inside the circled area. “This is where we believe your husbands to be.”

  My heart skips a beat as I stare intently at the little black dot on this dingy, white piece of paper.

  “We’ve begun to drill, just a few minutes ago, a tube that will hopefully lead us to the men,” Reed says.

  “That’s fantastic!” Lindsay says, sinking back in the sofa. “Oh, God, please let it find them. Please let it find them,” she chants.

  “I do want to point out,” Vernon says, side-eyeing Lindsay, “that this does not come without risks.”

  “What risks?” I ask, glaring at him.

  “Somehow, the crew mined into what we call an ‘old works.’ That’s a mine that was dug before maps were taken of where the work was done. We didn’t know it existed. But it does and it was there and once they bored into the side of it, that’s what caused the collapse.”

  I fling forward in my seat. “So can we get to them from there? Can we find the opening to that mine and go in that way?”

  “No,” he says, killing the butterflies that frolicked hopefully in my stomach. “We have no idea where that mine opened and closed. Remember, we didn’t know it existed until now. And usually these things are filled with water, which poses a threat.”

  “What kind of a threat?” I ask, feeling Dr. Walker’s hand squeeze my shoulders.

  “If the miners have managed to find an open space and it fills with water . . . there would be nowhere for them to go.”

  My hand shakes as I reach for Dr. Walker. He collapses his palms around mine.

  “We can’t do anything about that right now,” Reed says. “But what we can do is try to reach them from the top. Like Vernon said, water is a big threat right now, and unfortunately, Indiana has a water table that sits right above where we need to be. We’re going to have to cut through that to get to them.”

  “Wait,” I say, sitting up. “But won’t that drain down into where they are?”

  “It could,” Reed says warily. “But we’re hoping the pocket we hit will be dry or low. There’s really no way to tell until we get there.”

  “My God . . .” Lindsay moans, bringing her hands in front of her in prayer. “Please help us.”

  My gaze fixes on Greta. “Are you married?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then, wife to wife, bring my husband home.”

  TY

  Water droplets hit me in the face, causing soot from my blackened face to run into my eyes. I wipe them as best as I can and listen as the drilling gets closer.

  We stand in a line, our eyes towards the ceiling, illuminated by Jiggs’ headlamp, waiting for any indication where the drill may break through. Waiting, too, for any indication that the ceiling may crack and we’re buried into the dirt like fossils. The walls of this tomb seem to squeeze together with every minute that passes, the air tasting more putrid, the noise of the drill more deafening.

  A hand lands on my shoulder and I look at Cord. He smiles, his teeth spattered with bits of black coal dust. His grin is easy, and if we weren’t here, something casual like, “Hey, want to shoot some hoops?” or “Want to take Yogi to the lake with me?” would pass his lips.

  But we are here. In this hellhole. One I’m beginning to think, with every creak of the ceiling, may be our final resting place. The “death” of “til death do
us part.”

  Shivering, I blow out a final rush of air. “Do you think it’ll hold?” I ask, nodding towards the roof that once was held upright by timbers. Those timbers have fallen, jags of rock and debris hang mercilessly from above like stalactites in a cave.

  The drilling stops.

  “I figure it’s going to bust through over there,” Cord says, nodding past Jiggs.

  “Yeah,” Jiggs agrees, his teeth chattering. “The water is dripping like crazy over there too. I’m guessing they’re going through some sort of water table and it’s pressurizing down here.”

  Cord and I exchange a look, knowing the possibilities. And that if the worst case scenario happens and this cavern starts to fill—there’s nowhere to go.

  The buzzing starts again, more powerfully this time, as we make our way to what used to be the ramp out. The walls shake, pieces of rock and ore falling away and crashing through the room.

  My heart races, my blood soaring through my head, making me dizzy. I’ve never been so helpless. All I can do is watch the room shake ferociously, watch the water trickle in more quickly, listen to the sound of the drills scream. My fate is in someone else’s hands.

  “Hold on,” Cord says over the chaos. The cavern shakes violently as the three of us crouch in a corner. I can hear Jiggs’ prayers, the same one Elin whispers when she’s nervous, one their mother taught them when they were little.

  My heart lodges in my throat as I flip on my headlamp and aim it at the sound of the drill.

  In one hard bolt of energy, the end of the metal tool pierces the ceiling where we had been camped.

  We jump back as chunks of the ceiling give way and a steady stream of water flows down the wall. Before I can process this, I hear voices.

  Springing to our feet, we amble to the trickle of light from above. Chills break out over my dingy skin as we shout up, angling our bodies under the light.

  “This is Fred Jaspar,” we hear from the top. “How many of you are down there?”

  “This is Tyler Whitt,” I shout. “With me are Jiggs Watson and Cord McCurry.”

  “So there are three of you?”

  “Yes.”

  I look at Jiggs, his eyes glowing. He pats me on the shoulder in relief.

  “Tyler, do you have the location of Grunt Salis or Shane Pettis?”

  “No, sir,” I yell up, the light starting to blind my eyes. “I think Pettis was killed in the cave-in, but we don’t know about Grunt.”

  “How are you holding up? Are any of you injured?”

  “No,” I yell up, shielding my eyes with my hand. “How are our families?”

  “Your families have been notified. They’re safe and waiting on an update.”

  “Can we talk to them?” Jiggs shouts over me.

  “Right now, we want to focus on getting you out of there,” Fred replies. “We will let your families know we are in contact.”

  I turn my back on my friends and look into the darkness. My nose itches, my throat blocked by a lump the size of a chunk of coal.

  “Can you . . .” I say, sniffling, turning back around. “Can you tell them we love them? Tell Elin I love her, okay?”

  My voice breaks and Cord’s right arm falls around my shoulder. I can’t do it anymore; I can’t be the strength for the group. Whether that makes me weak or not, it doesn’t matter. I just need to hear her voice. I need to tell her I love her. Not through an intermediary, not through someone that’s never met me.

  “There’s no way we can talk to them?” Jiggs asks, either reading my mind or feeling the same way.

  “I’m sorry, that’s against protocol right now,” Fred says.

  “You know what?” Cord barks back. “Fuck your protocol. Your fucking protocol got us stuck down here, so the least you can do is let these guys talk to their wives.”

  “We’re going to need you to stay calm,” Fred says, his voice so calm, so nonchalant we could be talking about the weather. “Let’s get a plan together and get you out of there and then you can talk to them face-to-face, all right?”

  “I . . .” I say, but Cord shakes his head at me.

  “What’s the plan?” Jiggs asks. “How you getting us out of here?”

  “We’re going to try to bore a shaft big enough to get you up, but we need to get our ducks in a row first.”

  I watch as the water continues to flow down the side of the wall. “You know we might have a water problem down here, right?”

  “We’re aware.” Fred’s voice is tight and I read exactly what he’s saying.

  “Shit,” I mumble.

  “We’ll send some food and water down. Some extra lights. I need you guys to hang tight and don’t disturb anything, okay? Someone will be up here every minute if you guys have any questions. Just holler up.”

  “All right,” Jiggs says. “Hurry the fuck up, though, will ya?”

  “We’re doing everything we can.”

  I imagine Elin’s face. “Fred?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do more than you can. We need out of here.”

  ELIN

  The knock is quick and I turn on my heel from my pacing spot in the back of the room. My hand goes to my throat, probably because I stop breathing every time someone knocks.

  “We have news,” Vernon says as he enters. He, too, looks like he’s aged years over the past twenty hours. Bags are piled under his eyes, his clothing now wrinkled and stained with what looks like spilled coffee.

  Lindsay walks across the room and holds my hand. Our entwined knuckles shake as we search his features for some indication of good or bad.

  “We’ve made contact with your husbands. They’re alive,” he says.

  “Thank God,” I say, my entire body shaking with the force of my emotions. I bend, my knees starting to go limp. “Are they okay? Are they hurt? Did you hear about Cord?”

  “Cord is with them. It’s just the three of them in a hole that was formed in the cave-in.”

  “Thank you, thank you,” Lindsay repeats, releasing my hand and clasping hers in front of her face.

  “We’ve sent food and water down and they are aware of our plans to get them out.”

  “Can we talk to them?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest. “Please?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Vernon says, wincing.

  “Why not?” Lindsay asks. “We’re their wives. Jiggs is her brother too! That’s bullshit!”

  “I know you feel that way,” Vernon apologizes. “This is standard protocol. We have to focus on the operation at hand and you aren’t permitted out there. I’m sorry.”

  Lindsay and I turn to each other, burying our faces in the other’s shoulder, our sobs racking our frames.

  “They did ask us to tell you they love you.”

  I just cry harder. This should be a relief, that they’re alive and well, but it’s not. It means they’re aware they’re stuck a few hundred feet below the surface. It means they’ve probably witnessed their friends die. It means a miner’s biggest fear has been realized by my husband, brother, and friend.

  “Vernon?” I ask, wiping my eyes. “What are the chances we will get them out?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Yes, you can,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “What is the percentage that all three of them will get out of there?”

  “We’re doing the best we can.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  “Mrs. Whitt,” he says, his voice full of anguish, “that’s all I have. We are doing everything in our power to bring them home.” He walks to the door and opens it, but pauses before leaving. “If you ladies need anything else, I’m right out here.”

  TY

  Cord tosses a pebble. It hits a puddle of water and splashes. Years of fishing and skipping rocks tells me that the water is deeper over there than a simple wet patch.

  Jiggs’ light goes off on his helmet as he leans against the slick mine wall. He mumbles in his sleep, something about a transmission. Cord and I gri
n, but don’t laugh. Any other time, we’d heckle him relentlessly, but not today. Not now. We just let him enjoy the simple annoyances of a transmission.

  The glow from the light illuminates the trash from the food and the emptied bottles. I lift a leg, my body cold, wet, and aching. My clothes are completely soaked through, even though the mining bibs are supposed to be waterproof. I guess they aren’t made to sit in this shit for hours on end.

  Or days?

  “How long you figure we’ve been down here?” I ask Cord, keeping my voice down so as not to wake Jiggs.

  He tosses another pebble. “Fuck if I know.” Another pebble launches. “Hopefully not much longer.”

  Another pebble goes sailing.

  “I’ve been thinking . . .” I force a swallow. Once this is decided upon, it will be a sealed deal. And as Foreman, it’s my decision. I remember how many decisions I’ve had to make and how many I hated making and laugh. I’d give anything to trade those stupid choices with this one.

  “If the bore works,” I say, “we need to agree on who goes out in what order.”

  Cord’s eyes darken. “I go last.”

  “No,” I gulp, the words stinging my throat. “I have to go last. I’m the boss.”

  “Fuck that,” Cord says, the remaining debris in his hand rocketing across the room. “You two have wives, families. I’ll go last.”

  “I can’t do that, Cord.”

  “Sure you can.”

  Blowing out a breath, I steady myself. “I will agree Jiggs goes first. Lindsay is pregnant. That gives him seniority, in my opinion.”

  Cord nods, his mouth opening for a split second. He shakes his head and growls through the room.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing.” He removes his helmet and sits it beside him. “Okay. Jiggs first. I agree with that. Then you.”

  He looks pointedly at me, a fire to his gaze that I don’t see often.

  “I’m the Foreman,” I point out. “I took an oath to get my men in and out every shift.”

  “I really don’t give a shit,” he chuckles angrily.

  “Damn it, Cord. If something happened to you, do you think I’d be able to live with myself knowing I left you behind?”