by Britt Ringel
Kat nervously shuffled through Eastpoint after a guard’s cursory inspection and swipe of her wristwrap at a border official’s window. She was already beginning to regret not having a chip implanted. The wristwrap was conspicuous and she had not considered the terrifying possibility that someone might take her hand for the snug-fitting band and the privileges it represented. Sunday night, she had used one of the hunting knives to cut a long strip from her old gown to create a decorative covering that helped conceal her work visa. Once she cleared her background check and was formally hired, she would inquire about a chip.
Unsure where to walk next, Kat simply followed the group down the street to a fleet of waiting buses. There was quiet banter among a few of the workers but most walked in silence with the same, tight expression on their closed faces. The buses were simple, wheeled combustion transports. She watched miners file into each one, stopping to wave a wrist over a reader at the door. She mimicked the procedure on her turn. The ride through the empty streets took only ten minutes and ended at the mag-rail station.
The boarding procedure for the magnetic rail train was as simple as for the bus. Although corp-sec guards were present at the station, they maintained their vigil with an underlying boredom that bespoke of a placid calm every morning. Unlike the bus, Kat found the ride on the mag-rail exhilarating. The train traveled through Waytown at the modest speed of eighty kilometers per hour but rapidly accelerated once clear of the settlement. As it raced at close to four times the town speed through the wasteland, sand and scrub whizzed by in a blur four and a half meters below her. The smoothness of the ride coupled with its silence amazed her. Before this morning, she would have insisted that nothing could travel this fast, this quietly.
From her grime-covered seat, she gawked out the window in awe as the man beside her chatted with a companion across the aisle. The mountains, so very far on the horizon during her herb hunts, grew in size at an incredible rate. As she had suspected, no white snow resided on their tops, only a desolate, burnt beige. The train streaked through foothills that grew larger and larger each minute.
She leaned to her right as her body was pushed in the opposite direction. The train had left the main mag-rail, turning onto a spur that would carry her the last kilometers to the Porter mines. After only a few more minutes, Kat felt her body lift away from her seatback as the mag-rail began to slow. Out her window, she took in the mining operation for the first time. She had not considered her expectations but the compound seemed underwhelming.
The only notable buildings on the site were towable trailers situated in groups of four. Behind the buildings hid a makeshift parking lot for aircars. Smaller sheds crowned with machinery dotted the landscape. Many extended in crude lines away from the central area. A conveyor system jutted from the top of each shed and extended to empty coal cars waiting at its terminus. A short distance away, countless pits filled with an ink-black slurry marred the ground. Closer to Kat, filthy mineral cars for the mag-rail lined two, entire spurs. Just three mine entrances were obvious to her wide eyes, embedded into the side of the nearby foothill. Vehicles of all sizes were parked haphazardly in every direction she looked. The ground around the operation was dead, black earth.
An open area decorated with orderly rows of picnic tables caught her attention. Dormant barbeque pits lined one edge of the courtyard. Kat saw hundreds of miners seated at the tables as the train eased to a stop. The hissing of the brakes announced their arrival and Kat watched the miners stand almost as one. She did the same and patiently followed the man ahead of her off the train. An overpowering stench of exhaust and smoke greeted her.
Kat followed the herd to the picnic tables, vacated by the night shift that was now boarding the mag-rail. She self-consciously took an unoccupied section of a bench seat and rubbed her hands nervously. She had made it to the mine but she couldn’t anticipate what the rest of the day would bring. A pervasive hush settled over the courtyard. Once the mag-rail pulled from the dusty, wooden boarding platform and sped away from the rising sun, five men exited a trailer and approached the miners.
Kat’s heart skipped a beat when she recognized two of the men. One was “Daniel,” the man whom Sadler had accused of contributing to last week’s accident. The man’s short, black hair, narrow face and smug demeanor were unmistakable. He wore heavy-duty coveralls lined with reflective tape down the arms, legs and torso along with heavy, black boots. However, Kat’s attention quickly came to rest on the man walking beside him.
Sadler Wess strode confidently at the end of the five-man group. His coveralls looked much fresher than the last time she had seen him. His hair, no longer streaked with coal dust and sweat, threw natural highlights in the morning light. Even from across the table rows, Kat could see his intense, green eyes squint into the sun’s rays. He seemed to be searching the crowd. Kat felt a pressure work its way up from her chest to her head when his stare stopped on her. The corner of the man’s mouth turned upward before he looked down at his handheld’s screen.
Two of the other three men were dressed similarly to Daniel and Sadler. Only the fifth man stood out in black, ripstop nylon trousers and a light, collared shirt with the Porter logo emblazoned on the front. The group walked to the front of the courtyard and the fifth man called out loudly, “If this is your first day with Porter, I need you to follow me and I will begin your orientation.” Kat stood, with twenty-seven other men and women, and followed the man toward the trailers. Behind her, she heard Daniel opening the morning briefing for the rest of the miners.
Equipment requisition, guided tours and general safety briefings filled Kat’s morning. Once given the standard clothing allotment, the orientation guide instructed the group on the proper wearing and care of Porter’s property and assigned each worker a locker inside one of the trailers.
To Kat’s horror, men and women alike shared each trailer but her concerns over modesty were allayed when she realized that she would never truly undress. Miners simply donned their coveralls over the clothes they wore from Shantytown. At the end of the shift, the process was reversed and all that Porter provided would be left in the lockers. A trough rested at the trailer’s far wall. The water in it was currently an opaque soup but the guide stated that the washing station would be replaced once before lunch and again near the end of the day shift.
After each new employee demonstrated the ability to unlock their locker and properly wear their clothing, the guide gave a general safety briefing ranging from giving right-of-way to the large mining vehicles towing coal cars to the operation of the emergency callboxes located at even intervals inside the tunnels.
The morning concluded with several videos and a tour of the site. As the group ducked around enormous, wheeled vehicles that darted about in controlled chaos, the guide pointed out each of the major sections of the operation: the site offices, miner’s courtyard, mine entrances, shaft vents, conveyor systems, coal preparation strips, and “REE” extraction slurry pits. It was a whirlwind tour but Kat felt she understood the flow and functions at each location. Answers to questions asked by other newcomers confirmed her beliefs.
The sun was high overhead by the time the guide completed the tour. He led the group back to the tables at the miner’s courtyard and divided his charges into three, uneven clusters. Four men sat together while a second group of twenty-three crowded over three tables. Kat sat alone.
The barbeque pits had been lit during the morning and cooks hovered over the row. The smell of roasting meat replaced the acrid stench of the mine as a light breeze rolled over the courtyard. Porters hauled buckets of water to a half-dozen, large tanks next to tables stacked high with metal cups, plates and utensils.
The guide, hoarse from yelling over the ruckus of machinery throughout the tour, croaked, “This concludes your orientation. I’ve divided you according to each assistant foreman you’ll fall under.” He pointed toward the largest group. “You guys are joining the section that suffered the mishap last week. The res
t of you are replacing people who were victims of that collapse due to bad luck or bad timing.” He gestured back toward one of the mine’s entrances. “Your assistant foreman will take over from here. You’ll get any specific work and safety equipment, training on how to use it and then be handed off to an experienced miner for on-the-job training until your supervisor thinks you can do your job without killing yourself. Welcome to Porter Mining.” With a nod, the guide stepped away from the courtyard and headed toward a far trailer.
Quiet discussion broke out at the other tables. Kat merely watched the operation of the mine in silence. The clamor of equipment, vehicles and shouts never subsided. I’ll go deaf if I work here too long, she predicted. She wondered how loud it would be inside the depths of the mines.
Black specters streamed from the three entrances ten minutes later. The miners trudged toward the trailers to wash up before forming into lunch lines. Kat stayed at her table, taking her lead from the other new arrivals. A minute later, a man stopped by the three tables with the largest group and beckoned his new workers to follow him to a lunch line. Kat exchanged nervous glances with the foursome at the table next to her but otherwise waited patiently.
“Hungry?” a warm voice asked from behind her.
Kat turned and saw Sadler standing next to her table. She futilely tried to hide a widening smile. “Starving,” she answered honestly. “I was so nervous this morning, I couldn’t eat.” Of course, she thought, I didn’t have any food to eat anyway.
Sadler pointed to one of the lines. “Let’s go change that.”
While waiting in the queue, Sadler explained there were no assigned lines or seats at lunch although most miners ate with their immediate spur-mates. He encouraged the practice because the courtyard was one of the few places where workers could talk without having to resort to screams and gestures.
As they went through the line, Sadler stated that water was unrationed and she should drink as much of it as possible. There were more water tanks inside the mine and he instructed her to drink from each one she passed. The water at the mine was filtered with charcoal and probably the cleanest source available to any worker not from Waytown. Lunch usually consisted of rat meat caught in the mine and accompanied biscuits and a food paste supplement brought in from Northport. The supplement was extremely nutritious and the meat and biscuits were mostly for extra calories. Sadler playfully rolled his eyes over a blushing Kat and suggested she could use as many calories as she could get.
Kat watched a cook slap a ladle of paste onto her plate. She could scarcely believe how much food she was receiving. Following Sadler back to a half-full table, she uttered, “There’s no way I can eat all this.”
“You’re gonna need it,” answered a thickly bearded man seated across the table. The deep grooves of his face seemed permanently embedded with black dust. He shoveled a spoonful of paste into his mouth.
“Folks,” Sadler said, “I want you to meet Colby’s replacement. This is Kat Smith.” The miners around the table nodded and grunted. “Kat, this is George, Deke, Shannon, Reece and Tick.”
“Hi,” Kat greeted with a small wave. She felt very out of place with her clean hands but took a seat next to Sadler.
“You ever work in the mines before?” Tick asked. She was a girl, no older than eleven or twelve.
Kat shook her head. “No, but I’m excited to start.” She stabbed at a strip of meat. “What do you do, uh, Tick?” She popped the meat into her mouth and began to chew.
“I’m a Tom,” Tick stated proudly. “One of the best.”
Kat looked at her curiously before Sadler explained, “Toms catch the rats in the mines. You’d be surprised how many live down there.”
The tiny girl exclaimed, “You’re eating Grade-A Porter murine.” She tapped her flat chest. “I caught more rats last month than anyone in the whole mine.” She untucked a leg from under the table and kicked up a foot. “Got these boots as a bonus.” She grinned through dust-covered lips and boasted, “I wear them home every night.”
Sadler reached over to tussle the girl’s black hair. “She’s one of my hardest workers. I just wish I could convince her to take a promotion to dryman.”
“I like what I’m doing, Mr. Wess. It’s important work and I’m good at it.”
“So’s keeping the conveyors running,” interjected the thick-bearded man named George. “And with your frame, you could easily fit ‘neath the belts and under the grinder.” His eyes moved from Tick to Kat and washed up and down her body. The piercing gaze made her blush but the man’s eyes were only making a professional appraisal. “You’re tall but pretty thin,” he said to Kat. “You’ll do just fine.” He pointed at her long hair with his fork. “Gonna have to tuck that hair up though. Saw a woman get her hair caught in the gears of a conveyor section a while back.” He made a distasteful face but didn’t expound.
Shannon searched a front pocket on the chest of her coveralls. She pulled out a hairband and offered it. “Here. You can give it back when you get your own at the Beggar’s Market.” She took a second look at Kat’s hair. “Or just cut the rest of your hair as short as that,” she said while gesturing to the right side of Kat’s head. “What happened to it, anyway?”
“Burned it one night,” Kat answered.
Shannon removed her hardhat to reveal dirty, blonde hair, clipped short. She ran a grubby hand over her head. “It’s just easier this way. With the dust, sweat and all, long hair is impossible to manage.”
“Shannon, Deke and Reece are laborers,” Sadler said. “Shannon is also the new Equipment Operator’s Assistant.” The acknowledgment elicited a bright smile from the woman.
Sadler pushed his chin toward George. “George is the Equipment Operator. He’s in charge of this crew down in the mine. As a dryman, it’s his equipment you’ll be keeping clean.”
“Keep the coal dust from mucking up the machinery,” George stated, “spray suppressant on the walls and generally keep the workspace orderly.” He waved another spoonful of paste at his crew. “These guys make a mess so it’ll be up to you to make sure we can find our equipment when we need it and that I don’t roll over any stray gear with my grinder.”
“It’s hard work but it’s not complicated,” Deke explained. “What did you do before this?”
Kat noticed Sadler take an extreme interest in the question. She swallowed her mouthful of food before answering, “I was a doctor’s assistant at the Beggar’s Market.”
“Which one?” Deke asked.
“Doctor Reynolds.”
“I’ve heard of her,” Reece said. The tall, skinny man looked gravely ill with his pasty, white skin tone. “Friend of mine has a touch of asthma. So, you live near the market? I pass through Eastpoint myself.”
“The rest of us live closer to Westpoint,” Shannon said. She looked at Sadler. “Except Mr. Citizen here.”
“You live in Waytown?” Kat asked nonchalantly.
Sadler looked away, avoiding eye contact with any of his crew. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Porter doesn’t hire management from, uh, people not from Waytown.”
“The Trodden,” Deke pressed. “Just say it.”
Sadler shifted his weight on the bench. “I don’t like that word. We’re all just folks.”
“Well,” George cautioned, “here comes another folk on your six, Mr. Citizen.”
Sadler cringed at the warning. His shoulders tightened even before a pair of slender hands slid over them. The fingers kneaded as the woman behind him asked sweetly, “Is this your new hire, Sadler?”
Kat glanced upward and to her left. The woman behind Sadler had beautifully highlighted blonde hair pulled into a sleek, low ponytail that was gathered again to form a stylish loop. Her blue eyes matched the sky behind her and high cheekbones combined with an upturned nose to complete the striking portrait. She wore clothes similar to the morning’s guide that designated her as an office worker. Kat’s jealous eyes inspected the woman’s manicured fingernails as they began t
o scratch lightly down Sadler’s back.
“This is the new girl?” she asked again.
Sadler squirmed under the attention. He stacked his utensils on his plate and seemed ready to leave but realized he was trapped. “Yeah.” He twisted to face Kat, forcing free from the woman’s left hand. “Kat, meet Tabitha Carter. Tabby, this is Kat Smith.”
Tabitha looked down her nose at Kat, barely dipping her chin. “I processed your paperwork this morning. It must be convenient for you to live close to the Beggar’s Market.” She renewed her contact with Sadler’s shoulders. “Our apartment complex is nearly ten minutes by aircar to the Turner Shopping Mall in Waytown.” She leaned close to Sadler’s ear and said with a smile, “Isn’t that right, Sadler?”
“Tabby lives in the same complex as me,” he explained through gritted teeth. “Separate apartments though,” he quickly added.
A pleasing laugh escaped Tabitha’s frame, causing her chest to bounce. Her eyes locked onto Kat’s. The woman’s eyeshadow complimented the blue in her eyes perfectly. “It was nice meeting you, Kat.” She lifted her hands off Sadler and raised one to wipe at her brow. “Whew, it’s hot out here. I better get back to my office before I melt.” With a final caress around Sadler’s collar, she gracefully turned in place and retreated from the courtyard.
Sadler’s face was beet red.
“Wow,” Shannon exclaimed. “Princess is jealous.” She looked at Kat and grinned. “You can keep that hair tie.”
“Lunch is over, people!” cried a loud voice near one of the barbeque pits. The shout had come from Daniel. He was holding a plate of food that bore no resemblance to what the rest of the miners were eating. Kat swore she spotted green vegetables among his feast.