by David Wood
Gus turned to look at him, and a shadow passed over the miner's eyes, sending a shiver down Ash's spine. It only lasted a second, but the sense of...of otherness...lingered. “Don't talk down to me, Ashley Franks. You've been in that darkness. Tell me you ain't felt it down there, in the places we don't—”
“Enough!” Ray’s voice exploded in their midst like a grenade.
Ash was thankful for the distraction. He didn't want to hear Gus say another word, didn't want to look at him or see the mountain's shadow in his eyes.
Mr. Dennings pushed away from the mine cart and stood up, then straightened his tie as best he could and smoothed the rumpled material of his shirt. “Though I doubt you want to hear the 'suit' complain about how much money he's lost in this place, we are all hurting, and it won't get better until we get coal production up. If you want to quit because some animal wandered into the mine and hissed at you from the dark, fine. Come back tomorrow and I'll cut your final check. Understand, though, that as soon as you're out the door I'll be hiring your brother and your best friend, and they'll be the one with a job while you're out drowning your sorrows.”
Without waiting to see how the men reacted, Mr. Dennings pushed his shoulders back and walked toward the office trailer. The mob parted like the Red Sea. Some of the men were still angry, but most cast their gaze around like they weren't sure where they were or what was going on.
After the company president disappeared from sight, a few chuckles dropped from the day crew while the rest grumbled and walked to their waiting vehicles. Gus, though, remained where he was, his gaze now shifted to the mine entrance. Ash couldn't tell from the older man's expression if he was glad to be out of it or if he wanted to go back in. After a moment, Gus glanced at him, and again darkness flittered across his eyes like a crow flying past the sun. The two men stared at one another for several long seconds before the day shifter ambled away to his dirty brown pickup. As the parking lot emptied, Ash knew he should feel relieved, but he wasn't.
With the crisis averted – at least for the time being – Ash walked to the sign-in board to see what bad news might be waiting for him. Sure enough, two night-shift names had ‘Out sick’ written in blue ink next to them. Wilbert and Tyler. Damn. They were good workers. An invisible weight pressed against his chest, adding to the load of worry he already carried.
Two sets of headlights appeared around the bend, catching his attention. A third followed soon after. The night shift was on its way, passing through shadows growing longer by the moment.
Taking a deep breath, he hitched up his pants and awaited his crew. He didn't have to wait long.
“Okay, listen up,” he said when all his men were gathered. “Wil and Tyler called in sick. I need y'all working hard and working smart. The more cuts we make, the more money we make. If you need anything, let me know. Otherwise, get moving.”
The crew drifted apart like ocean wreckage, but they all moved in the same general direction of the sign-in board. As soon as enough had added their names, they turned on the electric cart, and one of the men got behind the wheel while others took a seat and leaned back. The cart sat only a few inches off the ground, so it was a pain to get in and out of if you had bad knees or a sore back – which nearly everyone did – but any higher would have meant decapitation as it drove into the four foot high mine entrance.
Ash glanced up as the sky continued to fill with black clouds and night claimed the mountains. He’d lived his entire life in their shadow, and not once had ever felt afraid. It was his home, more than the double-wide trailer he hung his hat in. The narrow roads and sheer drops might frighten lowlanders, but they were the topography of his youth. He knew Stillwater and the peaks around it like he knew the cracks in the vinyl of his truck bench seat. There wasn’t anything to fear.
Was there?
“Yo, boss!” a voice shouted. “You ready to get dirty?”
Ash nearly jumped out of his skin, then turned like a child caught licking icing off a cake that wasn’t his. Dean Cotton sat in the driver’s seat of the mine cart. All the other seats were empty, which meant everyone else was in the mine, and this was the cart's last run. Ash frowned, unsure how time had flown by so quickly, then waved and dashed over to his truck to get his lunch pail and bright white hardhat. After scooping them up and jogging to the cart he tested the hardhat's forward-facing light to make sure it worked. He'd put fresh batteries in the day before, but better safe than sorry when hundreds of tons of mountain were waiting to crush the unwary. The headlamp shone bright and steady as he bent down and settled into the cart. “Thanks for waiting.”
Dean nodded and pressed the acceleration pedal. Overhead the dark clouds broke open, and heavy raindrops splattered the ground. The cart’s occupants barely had a chance to taste the storm as they slipped into the mountain seconds later.
A rough-hewn cave ceiling squatted mere inches above Ash’s head. The cart’s headlights lit the way ahead, with more light thrown by the hardhats they wore. It made for a bright scene, but Ash wasn't fooled. The ravenous dark seemed, capable of consuming all the light you gave it, and when you didn't have any more it would reach out and swallow you whole.
After a few minutes of rolling over broken earth and bits of rock, Dean turned the cart to the right, kept things steady for a moment, then made a left. A rumbling sound began vibrating the air, soon joined by a tumbling fog of dust and coal soot. When the cart's headlight turned right a second time, it lit up the hard working night-shift crew.
“Digger's really givin' her hell!” Dean yelled once the cart was stopped next to the roofbolting rig. Billy Simms was already prepping the machine and locking yard long drill bits into place. “Let’s get this done, ‘cause I want to get outta here A.S.A. fuckin’ P!”
Despite not wanting to give the miners’ paranoia credence, Ash couldn’t help but agree. “You and me both.”
Dean backed the cart up, turned left, and pulled forward until he and Ash were stopped next to the scooper, which was Dean's duty to operate.
After getting out of the cart, Ash stood up as high as the mine allowed – a painfully pitiful height – and made his way toward a group of men kneeling together and talking while Doug “Digger” Renfro sat with his control panel and operated the continuous miner from a safe distance. The mechanical beast chugged along, scraping out coal with its rolling drum of tungsten carbide teeth. Despite Tyler and Wil calling in sick, work was off to a good start.
An hour into the shift coal rolled its way out the mine, and Digger was into his second cut. Ready to do his job and make the way forward safe for everyone, Billy drove the roofbolter from controls at the back while his partner Sam guided from the front. Two young guys who’d been hired barely a month ago lugged the continuous miner's electrical cable by hand, making sure it didn't get crimped against a wall or dragged under the machine's treads. They looked to be doing a good job, but suddenly the miner's lights went dark, and it ground to a stop. As Ash looked around to see what went wrong, he noted the conveyor belt wasn't rolling, and the ever-present hum of distant ventilator fans was gone too.
They’d lost total power.
Ash duck-walked to a phone loosely secured to a nearby wall and picked up the handset to call their man outside the mine. “Chester? We've lost power! What's going on out there?”
The phone’s earpiece spat out a blast of noise that made Ash's teeth ache. Through the squealing static, he thought he heard the outside man say, “This rain... Crazy! Like…end times! ... check- ... right back!” Mercifully the noise cut out as Chester hung up.
Ash glanced over at the scoop operator sitting idle a few yards away. “Dean, head out there and see what's going on.”
Dean nodded and backed down the tunnel, his headlights chasing after him. Once he was turned, the darkness of the mine crept in closer.
As the men stood around waiting to hear the news, Ash looked at his lunch pail and wondered if it was too early to eat. He wasn't hungry, but if the genera
tor was having a problem their schedule was about to get screwed, and who knew when they'd be able to stop and eat. He told the men to start their lunch break early. Low cheers tumbled weakly through the mine.
Several minutes later the phone rang, the sudden sound of it nearly driving Ash’s heart from his chest. When he had the handset to his ear, he heard Chester yelling over the storm. “Boss? You there?”
“I'm here, Chester. What's goin’ on?”
Rain and wind squealed from the earpiece like a hurricane. “Hell if I know! The genny looks fine, so I'm gonna need to open her up and take a deeper look! Can you send somebody to help?”
Ash looked at the phone like it was an alien artifact dug out of the ground. When he glanced down, he noticed a thin stream of rainwater trickling past his feet. “What? I already sent Dean up there. Ain't he with you?”
“Dean?”
“Yeah, Dean. He ain't there yet?”
“No.”
“He should be. Go check the entrance. We're gettin’ some water down here, so maybe the scooper's wheels got stuck in some wet grit.”
“Okay, boss. Be right back.”
Standing around waiting was not one of Ash's strong suits, but at that moment it was all he could do. The men sat together, eating and chatting in soft voices. Some made jokes, but the laughter that followed sounded hollow. Ash opened his mouth to offer a few reassuring words for his crew, but the phone rang again, interrupting him.
“Boss! There ain't no sign of Dean! I looked as far into the mine as I could, but I don't see him or the scooper! He must've got turned around somewhere!”
Ash didn't believe that for a second. Between the scooper and the mine cart, Dean knew his way through the mountain like a rabbit knew its own warren. But, if he wasn't lost, then where was he?
“All right,” Ash said. “Get back to the genny. I'll send a couple more guys out to help. Hopefully they'll find Dean along the way, and then y'all can get this problem sorted out.”
A squall of noise blasted from the handset. “Sounds like a plan, boss!”
Ash hung up and turned to the two young cable carriers. “Either of you know how to operate a mine cart?”
Both boyish faces nodded.
“Like drivin' a go-cart, sir,” said Dale, a blond with a too-easy smile The lanky brunette next to him was Ricky.
Ash wished his confidence level was higher. “Well, head on out then to help Chester. When you see Dean, pick him up too. Think you two can manage that?”
Dale and Ricky nodded like dashboard bobble-heads.
“Then get going. You help Chester get that genny running in the next thirty minutes, and I'll buy you both a pizza when we get out of here.”
Needing no more encouragement than that, the two kids bumped fists and walked to the mine cart. The battery powered engine sounded like a cat getting kicked off the back porch as they spun the wheels and took off.
“Okay, y'all,” Ash said to the rest of his men. “Hopefully we'll get this fixed up shortly.”
The night shift crew nodded over their meals. Out of habit, Ash did a quick head count. When he came up one short, he blinked. Scanning through the gritty faces wasn't easy, so it took a moment to see who wasn't there. “Billy, where's Sam?”
The roofbolter sat on the ground and chomped into a sandwich. The bread appeared gleaming white compared to his blackened fingers. After gulping down a big swallow of sliced ham, he shrugged his shoulders. “I think he went to take a piss.”
There wasn't anything unusual about that, but a small chip of ice dropped into Ash's stomach.
“Wasn't that like six minutes ago?” Digger asked over the lip of his thermos.
Billy looked at the miner operator, and then at Ash. “I guess. I didn't think about it. Sorry, boss.”
“Don't be sorry, be fuckin’ smart.” Ash suddenly had the urge to grab the man and choke him to death. Instead, he tilted his head up and called into the darkness. “Sam? Where you at? You better not be taking a shit!” His words echoed through the lengthy system of coal cuts, the sound reflecting at odd times and strange pitches. No other noise came back but the dwindling whine of the mine cart. When several seconds went by without an answer, Ash pointed a thick finger at Billy. “All right, numbnuts, he's your buddy, so go find him.”
“What?” Billy’s eyes went wide and round. “But–”
The earth suddenly rumbled and a roar filled the mine with a horrendous noise. Rocks ground together, metal squealed, and beneath that the faint high-pitched warble of human throats screaming in agony. Coal dust billowed toward the miners like a hellish fog from the direction the cart had gone.
Ash took off in a stooped run. “Come on!”
The men ran with him, their heavy breathing loud in the tunnel. Half a dozen beams of light bounced crazily off the tunnel walls, jittering so much they were nearly useless. A minute later red and white reflective tape flashed ahead of them.
“Hurry!” Ash pumped his arms and legs as fast as he could. He barely had enough breath in him to shout. By the time he made it to the cart, he felt ready to pass out.
A massive slab of shale smothered the mine cart, its orange paint and crumpled metal frame barely recognizable under dust and loose bits of rock. It had fared much better than the two men in it, however. One body lay half out like he'd tried throwing himself out of the way, his face beaten to an unrecognizable bloody pulp. All Ash could see of the other was a purple-shaded hand peeking out from the left side of the cart. He rushed to the rock and started lifting.
I think that's Dale, he thought as his helmet light swept across exposed dirty blond hair. He couldn't remember which kid had sat on which side of the cart, but Dale's hardhat – while doing nothing to save his face from being mangled – had protected his skull enough to make identifying him possible.
“Hurry!” Digger shouted as he leaped in next to Ash. “I think this un's still alive!”
Ash's arms and legs strained to move the block of shale, but his eyes never left Dale's ruined face. Deep cuts ran down his forehead and cheeks, and blood dribbled off his chin in thick drops. His left eye was destroyed, leaving the socket behind it a vacant dark red hole, but his other eye seemed okay as it moved in small, jittery motions. A deep gouge tore through the soft tissue of his nose, flaying open his left nostril like a butterfly shrimp. Below it his lips were battered strips of flesh that couldn't hide his shattered teeth and bloody gums. Weak sound bubbled from his throat.
Every available fiber of muscle was put against the shale slab, every hand and shoulder. The mine filled with grunts. The men knew it could have easily been them under that shale, dead or dying, and if it had they'd want their friends and coworkers to do all they could to save them. So they did, grunting and crying and cursing all the while. But, try as they did, the rock didn’t move an inch. It easily weighed a thousand pounds. To save Dale’s life they needed help.
“I’ll be right back.” Ash turned and ran back to the phone.
His helmet light swept the darkness in crazy swings as his tired legs pumped, lighting the dark yet revealing nothing. As he neared a turn, his light touched a pair of brown work boots peeking from a corner. The uneven wall hid who wore them. Panicked that someone else might be hurt, Ash scrambled toward the boots. When he rounded the turn, he saw Sam standing in the dark. His face was calm, his eyes still and unblinking.
“Sam!” A wave of relief washed over Ash. “Thank God! Come on, we need your help!”
Sam didn't move, didn't say a word. All he did was stare.
“Did you hear me? We've got people hurt over here, so snap out of it and let's go!”
But Sam didn't snap out of it, or move, or speak. His eyes were immovable as they bored into Ash. The bolter didn’t seem hurt, he wasn't bleeding or bruised, but his skin – where it could be seen past clothing and coal dust – was porcelain white, while his lips and the skin beneath his eyes was dark, as though cave shadows had settled on his face and refused to leave. And h
is eyes, which Ash could have sworn were blue, seemed as black as the mine around them. He looked sick, cold, almost…drowned. Gooseflesh broke out on Ash's arms and back.
“Sam, talk to me.” He took a small step forward.
Sam moved backward, the motion so smooth it seemed as if his feet didn’t move. Then Sam's lips parted, the graying bits of flesh forming words Ash instinctively knew he didn’t want to hear. “I've seen it, Ash. I've seen the heart of the mountain in my dreams. It's so beautiful.”
Pain lanced through the center of Ash's head, making him wince. He suddenly felt loose, untethered. Nothing made sense. Death lay behind him, and ahead of him lurked something… other. His thoughts were hard to control, keep order of. Desperate to feel something real, he curled up his right hand and punched the stone wall nearby. The pain was intense but clarifying.
“Sam, I don't know what's going on, but we're getting out of here. When the sun comes up, we'll get this mess sorted.”
Instead of doing as he was told, Sam smiled, his steely lips bowing in a way that made Ash nauseous. “No more.” Sam glided backward into the darkness as smoothly as fog drifting from a lake to blanket the shore in wet silence. “No more sun for us, Ash. Only shadows…forever.”
A new jolt of pain hit Ash's head, striking his forehead like a spike. He clenched his teeth and howled, but the sound was lost as the mine trembled under the falling of more stone.
The miners behind Ash screamed, the mountain screamed, and Ash couldn't tell one from the other as dark rock tumbled from the ceiling to pound the cave floor. He saw movement everywhere, legs and arms and rock, dust washing over everything like nuclear fallout. Ash ducked his head and ran without knowing where he was going, his hard hat light useless in the dusty chaos. He was blind, confused, chasing ghosts.