by Dana Mentink
* * *
Shelby wanted to charge ahead but the rocks biting into her palms and kneecaps kept her at a slow pace. That, and the muttered comments from Barrett, who was hard-pressed to stuff his big frame into the narrow tunnel.
Every twenty minutes or so, she activated another light stick to mark the way. The time crept past seven thirty and on to eight o’clock. Though her stomach growled, she ignored it, inching along until a sound brought her up short.
“Barrett? Did you say something?”
“Naw. It’s taking all my powers of concentration to crawl along. What did you hear?”
“I thought...” What had it been? A faint gasp of pain? The sound she caught, or imagined, had come from behind them.
Barrett was staring at her, head scrunched under the rock ceiling. “What?”
She shook her head. “Never mind. Just the rock settling or something.” She continued on for what seemed like hours until her mouth was parched and her stomach could not be ignored.
“Break time,” she announced, her muscles relieved to settle into a sitting position.
Barrett folded himself into an awkward arrangement next to her, accepting the granola bar she provided and guzzling some water from his bottle. “Plan?”
She pulled out her digital thermometer. “The air is getting cooler. It’s dropped five degrees in the last five minutes.”
“And since Hatcher’s tunnel is lower than Oscar’s, you figure we’re heading in the right direction.”
“You’re getting good at this,” she said, grinning at him. “You could be an assayer.”
“Think I’ll stick to horses.”
A loud thud startled her. “What was that?”
Barrett grabbed his flashlight and scrambled down the tunnel they’d just traversed. Pulse thumping, she scooted behind him. They crawled fifteen feet or so, training their lights into every crevice.
“Nothing,” he said. “Some loose rock falling, maybe.”
Maybe, she thought. Wasn’t that the likeliest explanation? But for a woman who had been shoved in a truck, nearly blown up and almost burned to death, it was easy to jump to other explanations. She didn’t want Barrett to see her sinking into paranoia.
“That must have been it,” she agreed, and they returned to their spot. Still, the hair on the back of her neck prickled as if stirred by an icy wind. Don’t let Hatcher get inside your thoughts.
Finishing their snack, they crept onward until the tunnel pinched off completely. She shined her light, sucking in a shocked breath.
“It’s blocked.”
Barrett stuck his head over her shoulder, his beard giving her shivers.
“Can you switch places with me a minute?”
She flattened herself against the cold rock and he edged forward.
“This is recent,” he said grimly. “Someone has rolled a rock across the entrance and filled in around the bottom with debris.”
Shelby’s nerves twanged. “To what purpose? Was it Hatcher trying to prevent explorers like Charlie?”
“And us?” he offered, not without irony.
She didn’t answer. He put a shoulder to the rock and felt it shift. “It’s not as heavy as it looks. I can move it.”
In a few moments, he’d levered the rock aside and turned to stare at her.
“Shelby, this is getting weird. Someone’s been down here. I think we should go back.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “I may not get another chance. I’m going to get as far as I can in the next few hours before we need to turn around and meet your brothers.”
He sighed. “I thought you’d say that. At least let me go first.”
“Okay, I...” She stopped.
“Shelby?”
Her whole body was gripped by an icy blast of fear. “Barrett,” she said slowly, shining her light to the rock over his head.
He followed the beam. The light caught a clump of hair clinging to a sharp bit of stone.
“Whose hair?” she whispered. The gloom made it impossible to tell the color. Blond? Black? Brown? Red?
The confusion on his face told her he had no clue either. Whoever it was who had passed this way recently had unintentionally left a calling card. Joe Hatcher, her mind screamed.
The only problem was, Hatcher’s hair was snow-white.
* * *
The prowler wasn’t Hatcher then, Barrett concluded, but that left a million other explanations. Random trespassers who’d done their exploring before Oscar had closed up the mine. Others who enjoyed the fun, breaking in and then boarding up the entrance behind them. Charlie?
The whole thing was giving Barrett a case of the creeps. He didn’t suggest turning back, though. The only end to this adventure was through it.
Shelby had pressed on, leaving him to crawl along after her. The tunnel sloped downward and mercifully enlarged, so he could resume a cautious standing position.
The walls, he noticed, were growing damper, trickles of moisture oozing down and muddying the dirt caked on his hiking boots as the passage branched off yet again. He trusted Shelby knew what she was doing, but he could not tell one passage from another except for the glow of the light sticks she was dropping along the way.
She cried out, and he rushed to her. “Look,” she said. “Those marks again.”
There was indeed another series of red marks, about shoulder high on the wall, speckled with moisture. “They’re marking the way to something,” she breathed, “I know it.”
What kind of weird scavenger hunt was this? Ahead, a scatter of rockfall piled up to the side of the tunnel.
“Odd,” Shelby said, shining her light on the ceiling. “Look at the marks. They’re scraped and gouged, like someone was using a shovel to bang the rock.”
To free the rock detritus that now littered the floor?
She knelt and began pushing away the bigger rocks, rolling them aside. He joined her, a sense of urgency that he did not understand fueling his actions. They’d cleared enough that they were both sweating and had nothing to show for it but sore fingers.
Shelby sat back, shaking her head. “I just don’t...”
Barrett held a finger to his lips. “Wait.”
They sat in silence for some thirty seconds, listening.
“What do you hear?”
“Air, like a rush of wind from somewhere below us.”
Barrett turned on his granddad’s flashlight and stuck his face almost to the rock floor where the debris pile had been. One more cluster of rocks remained in the way and he heaved them aside. There in the gap between the tunnel floor and wall was an opening wider than a manhole cover. He eased back to let her see.
“It’s too dark. Can I borrow your flashlight?”
He handed it to her, putting a palm on her back to hold her steady as she wriggled her torso into the opening. Her scream cut through his senses.
He grabbed her shoulders and yanked her up. Her eyes were wide with panic, her breath coming in shudders.
“What’s wrong?”
She was breathing so rapidly she could not answer.
He took her face in his hands. “Shelby, it’s okay. Breathe in and out, real slow.”
She tried to comply, but her chest heaved with the effort. He spoke softly to her, soothingly, concentrating on the simple act of breathing. He did not ask again what she’d seen, his only desire to still her panic.
When she calmed down enough that he did not think she would pass out, he took the flashlight from her clutched fingers. The panicked breathing started up again.
“I’m just going to look, that’s all. Okay?”
She clamped her lips together and gave him the barest of nods.
He crept to the edge and shone his light down. At first he saw nothing but dark
ness, the bottom of a subpassage some fifteen feet below. Then the light picked up the gleam of something terrible, unnatural.
Something very, very still.
NINETEEN
Barrett returned to Shelby and sat quietly next to her, his arm around her shoulders, wiping her tears as they fell. Her limbs shuddered with horror, knees drawn up under her chin.
Barrett had seen no more than a twisted body with a shock of hair, the gleam of skin somewhat well preserved due to the cold, no doubt, but subject to decay nonetheless. The dead man lying sprawled against the rocks wore a nylon jacket and sneakers.
“It has to be Charlie,” he said. “The hair, it’s dark, it must have got caught on the rock back there. He fell in the hole while he was exploring.” Even while his mouth constructed impossible scenarios to explain what he’d seen, his brain insisted on coughing up the facts which he knew Shelby was considering, too.
The rock rolled across the entrance. The tunnel debris loosened by some sort of tool to conceal the hole.
“Charlie may have died of natural causes,” Shelby finally managed, “but someone tried to hide his body.”
“Which makes me think it probably wasn’t natural causes after all.”
Shelby shivered and he gripped her closer. He could hear her struggling to breathe deeply, to drive away the shock of what she’d seen.
She cleared her throat. “The police sent in searchers looking for Charlie but they didn’t come this far in, or if they did, they didn’t notice the hole in the tunnel floor,” she finished.
“We need to get out of here and contact Larraby.”
After one more deep breath, she nodded and they got to their feet.
Reluctantly, he settled on his belly, leaning over the hole to take photos of the body with Shelby grimly holding the flashlight and avoiding looking at the grisly mass. Two more light sticks marked the gruesome find to prevent any search-and-recovery personnel from falling into the exposed hole.
They’d done all they could for poor Charlie. Now at least his parents would have closure, the chance to properly mourn their lost son. He pitied them the years they had agonized, not knowing the truth, and the painful years that would stretch on after they did.
Quietly, he said a prayer, feeling the warmth of Shelby’s hand joining his. She squeezed his palm and that tiny gesture in the vast darkness lit up a small corner of his heart.
When they were done, he picked up his pack. “We’d better go.”
This time she did not argue. When she took a step, she stumbled and grabbed his forearms for support. He folded her close, knowing he shouldn’t, understanding there could not be anything between them but feeling an overwhelming urge to comfort her that would not be denied.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her face pressed to his chest. “My legs aren’t working right.”
“It’s okay. Take your time. We’ll go slow and easy on the way back, when you’re ready. Not until then.”
He wouldn’t have minded if she took hours there, leaning on him. It felt so right to be needed by this woman, this flawed, determined, contrary lady from a family he despised. His senses reeled from the shock he’d just experienced and the profound joy of holding her close.
Yep, he was definitely losing what was left of his mind.
She pulled away, wiped her eyes and took in a steadying breath.
“I’m ready. Let’s get out of here.”
They traversed the way back much slower, the green glow of the light sticks a welcome sight around each corner. When it was time for them to crawl, the distance seemed insurmountable, the cold burrowing into his skin, rocks jabbing his knees and shins.
He decided that he wouldn’t care how many tons of gold lay buried deep in the earth, he’d never go into another mine without a very compelling reason. They got to the place where the tunnel pinched in and the clump of hair clung like some horrible fungus.
Barrett went through the gap first, scraping his shoulders as he did. He was turning around to help Shelby when the sound of a shot fractured the stillness.
Barrett dived instinctively, even though the shot was nowhere near them. He succeeded in bringing Shelby to the floor.
“Gunshots?” she panted.
“Yes,” he said. “Near the entrance.”
They locked eyes. The entrance where the box of TNT sat innocently in the corner. He did not have time to mouth the words as, a second later, an explosion rang through the caverns, shaking the walls and sending a cascade of debris down upon them.
Shelby screamed and he hauled her close, sheltering them as best he could under a shallow rock projection. All around them the rock seemed to writhe and undulate as if it was a living thing. The tunnel shook so violently he was sure the whole place was going to collapse.
He tucked her head under his torso as the patter of rocks slapped against his back. Thoughts flashed through his mind in a crazy kaleidoscope. He was not afraid to die, he knew a better place awaited, a place where Granddad and Bree were free of pain and suffering. But it occurred to him that he would be leaving behind anger, hatred even, a part of his soul that had not been properly formed into what God intended it to be.
I thought a real man was one who could forgive...like Christ did.
It grieved him that things might end this way. Shelby cried out as a rock bounced off her hip and he tried to pull her closer. She deserved the chance to find her own forgiveness and make peace with her mother. He wanted to holler and shout at the hard stone all around them.
Suddenly, the noise died away and the ground settled itself again. Shelby uncovered her face, breathing hard.
“The shot exploded the dynamite,” she panted.
“That would be my theory, too.”
“The whole mine might have collapsed. We could have been killed.”
There was nothing to be said to that. He watched her expression change from shocked to angry.
“Someone is trying to kill me and it’s really starting to get on my nerves.” Her voice rose to a shout that bounced off the stone walls, as she swiped the debris from her hair.
He repressed a smile.
“Do you think this is Hatcher’s handiwork again?” she demanded.
He didn’t want to take the time to dwell on the whodunit. Instead he shook the mess from his hair and beard like a bear emerging from hibernation, and took several cautious steps into the darkness. Turning the corner, he stopped short.
The space was completely filled with shifting rubble that reached fully up to the ceiling. He shoved a hand into it, pushing at the mass, but the rocks pushed right back, pressing him into retreat.
“Guess you got your wish,” he said dully, as he returned to her.
She stood with her arms folded, dust coating her hair and clothing. “I’m afraid to ask what that means.”
“You wanted to explore the mine and now you’re going to have the chance because we’re not getting out that way.” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the entrance.
“Completely collapsed?”
“I’m not sure, but in any case it’s too filled with debris to pass.”
“So we’re trapped in here.”
“Until we find another exit, yes, or until my brothers and Oscar can shovel us out.”
“But...that could take days.”
“Months.”
She gaped. “Then why do you look so calm about it?”
Because he’d already decided how to play it. It was like working with horses; the calmer you were, the better. “You’ve mapped this, right? You know it connects to Hatcher’s property and we can get out that way.”
“That is a theory, mind you, but even if I’m right and we can make our way to Hatcher’s entrance safely, his gate is padlocked, remember? And he’s suppo
sedly lost the key.”
He patted his pack. “I’m prepared this time, but we could also use the escape Emmaline showed us if we can locate it again.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you being Mr. Cool and Confident because you don’t want me to panic?”
He’d told her it might take months to free them, but with the explosion possibly destabilizing the whole mine, there was the chance that it was impossible to clear no matter how much time they had. Considering their limited food and water supplies, the clock was already ticking. Better for her to be searching for a solution than coming to that sobering conclusion.
He pasted on a self-assured smile. “Plenty of people know we’re down here. Might as well get out on our own while they’re considering what to do.” He kept his tone light. “Agreed?”
She searched his face as the seconds ticked by. She was a very smart woman, and he realized he couldn’t fool her, not for a minute. She was well aware of the difficulties of moving tons of rock under unstable conditions, but the look on her face said she’d chosen to take a page from his book. Cool and confident beat trembling and terrified any day.
“Yes,” she said, tone steady. “But I wasn’t going to panic, just for your information.”
He admired her for this decision, and for not allowing him to coddle her. Dirty, disheveled as she was, he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. His pulse revved up a notch. Knock it off, Barrett. Big problems here, or haven’t you noticed? “I didn’t figure you would.”
“Maybe we can find out more about those red marks while we’re poking around down here.”
He nodded. “Why not?” he said, squeezing back through the narrow gap. Inwardly, he sighed. God had given them a chance at survival and he would give it everything he had, but it had to be nuts to venture deeper into the mine that had almost killed them.
No, not the mine, he corrected himself. The person who’d shot at the dynamite, who was ready to commit multiple murders to keep them from doing precisely what they were now going to do.
“This is all kinds of crazy,” he muttered to himself, thinking she would not hear.
“For sure,” came her reply from behind him.
