by Cathy Pegau
“Tell me.” Gennie sat on the opposite side and sipped her tea. Bergamot wafted from the cup, reminding her of her youth.
Natalia shrugged, a sad smile on her lips. “It’s not easy losing a parent, no matter how old you are.”
“I’d imagine not.” Natalia looked up at Gennie, her eyes filled with curiosity. Time to share a little. “My parents are still alive, but don’t bother looking for them. I changed my name years ago.”
Several times, in fact.
“I know,” Natalia said. “According to what I found, Genevieve Caine has only been around for a few years.”
It didn’t surprise her that Natalia had run a search. She’d done the same with the CMA agent and had found only basic information herself.
“You lost your parents,” Gennie said. The grief that had emerged when Ria mentioned her mother returned to Natalia’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
She sipped her tea, avoiding Gennie’s gaze. “I was thirteen. My sister was eight. Tunnel collapse. Mom shouldn’t have taken the extra shift. She didn’t need to.” Natalia shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
“But it still hurts.”
“It’ll always hurt,” she said, her voice rough.
Gennie laid her hand on Natalia’s arm. Sympathy for the child who had lost her parents, and for the woman who still felt it, made her throat tight.
Natalia’s muscles stiffened beneath Gennie’s palm. Their gazes locked. Confusion and embarrassment flickered across Natalia’s face.
Maybe Gennie shouldn’t have touched her, but it felt...right to comfort her. In another place, another time, she wouldn’t have cared what had befallen Natalia or Ria. Things had changed—she had changed—in recent years, in recent weeks and days.
That was good, wasn’t it?
Natalia slid her arm out from under Gennie’s hand. She brought the mug up to drink, dropping her gaze to the contents. Her averted eyes and the cup prevented Gennie from seeing what was happening behind the CMA agent’s efforts to conceal her feelings.
Gennie closed her fist around the lingering sensation of their contact but otherwise kept her disappointment to herself. She hoped.
Damn it. Natalia wasn’t the only one confused about what she was supposed to be feeling. But the desire that seeped into her whenever she thought of Natalia was too great to ignore.
“I’m sorry about the other day,” Gennie said. “Outside The Hole.”
Natalia’s head jerked up. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I mean, I shouldn’t have...”
“I’m glad you did,” Gennie said. Natalia’s cheeks pinked, and Gennie felt a flush rise on her face. “It’s like relieving a pressure valve. If you don’t, something’s going to blow.”
Natalia set her cup down, her hands wrapped around it. “Why did you stop us?”
There was no way to explain it, not without telling Natalia everything. What would she say if she knew Gennie had kids? Knew she was here, in Grand Meridian, taking risks, even though it was for them?
“It’s complicated,” Gennie said at last.
Natalia’s features softened as understanding, or at least acceptance, settled into her eyes. “It usually is.” She cocked her head, and a strand of hair swung across her cheek.
Gennie resisted the urge to brush it back, or curl it around her finger and feel its silky texture.
“Was this complication also why you were so upset earlier?” Natalia asked.
“Earlier? You mean, with Ria?”
“Then, yes.” Natalia traced the lip of her cup with her finger. “You’ve lost people close to you too.”
Simon. His death still sent a pang of grief through her, like an old wound that had healed but ached when conditions were right.
“But at the sermon too,” Natalia continued. “The preacher’s final words.”
The melodic tenor of the Revivalist clergyman echoed in her head. Every person we love, who loves us, is a gift, and everyone we meet is a chance to share ourselves.
Gennie swallowed hard as images of Branson and Melaine ran like a vid through her mind. Her love for them, her determination to keep them from harm, made her stronger, yet at the same time made her vulnerable. The Reyeses were exploiting that vulnerability now, forcing her to take risks in order to escape them, hoping she’d slip up so they could swoop in and snatch the children from her.
Natalia was part of that weakness too. She wouldn’t use the kids against Gennie, but they were still a vulnerability she wasn’t ready to share with the CMA agent. Gennie would protect her kids in her way, like she always had. But what if...
Her breath caught when she thought about what would happen to Branson and Melaine if she were to die, like Natalia’s parents or Ria’s mother.
Gennie rose, her chair scraping across the worn floor. She needed to get away before Natalia saw more. Natalia’s hand on her arm stopped her. Gennie clamped her jaws together and breathed slowly through her nose to control the quiver in her chest.
“Please. Don’t walk away again.” Natalia’s soft voice offered solace. Understanding. “Tell me what’s going on. Let me help you.”
Gennie laid her palms against Natalia’s cheeks and kissed her, a light brushing of their lips that tasted of salt and deception. “I can’t,” she said, the words grating in her throat. She touched her forehead to Natalia’s. “I can’t. Not yet. Please.”
Natalia let her go. Gennie snatched her jacket off the hook by the door and fled, again, into the cold Nevarro summer.
Chapter Eleven
Gennie rubbed the ache from her eyes and shook off a bout of frustration. Another restless night followed by a tense morning hadn’t made for the most productive of days so far. Natalia had played it cool and relaxed through breakfast, but now and again Gennie felt those blue eyes home in on her. Silence could be an irresistible force that encouraged one to spew one’s guts. Gennie had prevailed against Natalia’s mute inquiry. Barely.
She and Natalia continued their emotional dance around each other. Correction: Gennie’s emotional dance. She was the one keeping Natalia at arm’s length now, rather than the other way around.
Gennie shifted in Mac’s seat and put the previous day’s events behind her, determined to keep her personal business personal and find out where the mystery pirqs were currently working. The sooner Natalia could get into the right mine and gather evidence, the sooner they could get out and go home.
But the personnel schedule data was, in short, a mess. The trackers on the miners’ hard hats said one thing, while copies of leave requests or termination files said another. Sometimes a miner worked a double shift, which wasn’t unusual, and sometimes one seemed to be working two locations at the same time. Or not even on-site at the time he was shown to be working. How was that possible? A glitch in the system? A deliberate effort to cover up whatever they were doing?
Gennie suspected the latter. No system was foolproof, but considering the suspected activity at Grand Meridian, it was more likely someone was counting on poor tech to cover any tracks. Pirq sites tended their own accounts, and unless there was a complaint, it was assumed all was well. Maybe they’d never considered the possibility of anyone looking so hard at their data system without notification of an audit from the CMA.
If only the damn SI didn’t run as if it had a half-dead fuel cell, she could match the team with any other oddities within the tunnels. She determined which of the four main tunnels they’d be working, given the Four, One, Three, Two pattern of rotation, but it still didn’t tell her the exact location. Too many kilometers of the void to leave it to chance.
So what could be used as an excuse to have extra crew members return without anyone noticing? She ran a search of every activity logged at each tunnel—repairs, equipment maintenance, inspections—except for mining, and sorted the
m by date. When she tapped the enter key, she swore she heard the old SI groan. This was going to take a while. She got busy writing up reports for her “job.”
Mac’s heavy footsteps on the stairs gave Gennie enough warning to hide the search on the SI and stash the stick she’d used to copy files in her jacket pocket. He didn’t usually come behind the desk if she was there, preferring to let her handle the tedium of paperwork and filing with the CMA while he made himself available on-site. But better safe than caught. Gennie picked up the random pile of papers she’d left on the desk and was sorting them when he came in.
Mac stamped the grit off his boots at the threshold and shut the door behind him. He nodded to her, headed to the coffee maker and set his dirty white hat on the filing cabinet. “How’re things in here?”
“Your files are a mess.” The frown she wore was not completely faked. “You’re missing copies of this miner’s injury claim. The CMA is gonna blow a gasket.”
Mac sneered. “The CMA can kiss my lily-white ass. The report’s in there somewhere.”
“According to the checklist, it is.” The agency guidelines he’d given her helped make it sound like she knew what she was talking about. “But I can’t find—”
The floor rolled under Gennie’s feet, throwing her off balance. She grabbed the corner of the desk, heart lurching in her chest. Dust sifted down from the ceiling, and Mac’s chair did a slow twirl as it rolled into the corner.
Mac held on to the filing cabinet. Coffee had sloshed over the side of his cup, but he hadn’t noticed.
The shaker lasted no more than ten seconds; it seemed to take a lot longer for the ground to settle.
Mac strode over to the desk, intent on the radio. According to her hasty office training, procedure required the three subunits of the crew to call in after an incident. He yanked the oval mic off its bracket.
A minute ticked by. Large vehicles whooshed past the office, but no sirens sounded. Two minutes. Shouting from somewhere in the distance. Three minutes. The speaker crackled with static.
“Four Base. Four Base. Cutter crew. All accounted for. A few minor injuries. No structural or equipment damage to report at this time. Will confirm if otherwise. Come back.”
Mac keyed the mic. “Copy that, Cutter. Good to hear. Check the lift from where you are. We’ll have a crew do the same up here.”
“Copy, Four Base. Cutter crew out.”
“Four Base. Four Base.” A woman’s voice came over the radio, but it wasn’t Natalia. Gennie’s mouth dried. “Conveyor crew. No injuries. Alignment out on the belt. Emergency shutdown initiated. Repair shouldn’t take much, but we’ll call in if it’s worse than we think. Come back.”
“Copy, Conveyor,” Mac said. “Will stand by for additional repair request.”
“Copy that. Conveyor crew out.”
Mac lowered the mic. One finger tapped below the talk button.
A low hum filled the air.
Gennie’s chest felt heavy. Her palms became slick with sweat, and her throat tightened. The hauler crew should have called in by now. Natalia. Was she all right? Hurt? Scared? The phrase “damn the void” had never truly felt to be the oath that it was until now.
“Come on,” Mac grumbled, impatient, but there was concern in his eyes. And fear. After several long seconds, he keyed the mic. “Hauler crew. Hauler crew. Four Base.”
He released the button. Click. Hum.
“Hauler crew. Hauler crew. Four Base. Do you read?”
Click. Hum.
Gennie’s heartbeat thrummed in her ears. She stared at the radio, willing someone from the hauler crew to respond. The other units would maintain radio silence unless absolutely necessary or if they had any information to relay. But from the way they were positioned in the void, no one would know what was going on with the hauler crew until they called in.
“Damn.” He tuned the radio to channel sixteen and pressed the talk button. “Emergency crew. Emergency crew. Four Base. No response from hauler crew four. Requesting assistance.”
“Four Base. Four Base. Emergency crew. Copy that. We’re on the way. Emergency out.”
Mac set his cup down, bracketed the mic and headed toward the door. Gennie followed. He snatched his hard hat off the cabinet. “No. Stay here and man the radio. Let me know if they call in.”
Rage and fear churned in Gennie’s gut. He was expecting her to stay in the office while Natalia could be hurt? “I have to—”
Mac frowned, his eyes blazing. “You have to stay here, Moore. I need to know if they call in. There’s nothing you can do out there. Understand?”
It took a moment for his words to penetrate the turmoil in her head, but finally, Gennie nodded. Yes, she would listen for any word about Natalia and the others.
Mac crossed back and patted her shoulder, his expression softening. “It wasn’t a big shaker. I’m sure they’re fine. Probably just knocked out the link.”
He shoved his hat on his head and hurried out.
The radio hummed beside her.
* * *
“Fuck, that hurts,” Thompkins cried as Natalia daubed the cut on his head with an antiseptic wipe.
Natalia sat on her knees beside the young man. It was completely dark outside the pool of white light made by their hard hats. “Sorry. Sit still and I’ll get you bandaged up.”
She rifled through the medkit for the right size of wrapping. It wasn’t a large cut, but there was swelling and bruising and it bled like a son of a bitch. The man’s hat had flown off when his loader jostled, and he’d been pitched into the corner of the driver’s cage.
The other new member of the hauler crew jogged toward them, the light on his red hat bouncing with each step. “The Beast is fired up and ready to roll.”
“Did you call in?” Natalia asked. It had been a good ten minutes since the shaker hit. The comm near the conveyor had been damaged by a chunk of rock, but the hauler’s radio should be working.
“Oh,” Conners said, looking embarrassed. “I forgot.”
Shit. Mac would be expecting their call. So would Gennie.
“Help Thompkins to his feet and over to the hauler. I’m gonna call in before they send the whole damn emergency crew screaming down here.” Natalia rose and brushed the grit from her knees. She eyed the red hat. He seemed pale in the poor light. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he said. “This was my first shaker underground.”
Natalia gave him a reassuring grin and patted his shoulder. “First one’s always the hardest. Watch for rubble. I’ll see you at the hauler.”
She jogged back the way the red hat had come, the forward light on her head bobbing and giving erratic views of what lay ahead. The shaker hadn’t been all that bad, but Natalia’s hands had trembled when she’d gone to help Thompkins, not sure, at first, if the man was seriously injured. Hopefully the rest of the crew—the rest of Grand Meridian and other mining sites that had been in the radius of the quake’s effects—were all right.
After a few minutes, her headlight illuminated the rear of the hauler. The Beast rumbled, its engine happy to sit idle and warm up for so long. Natalia climbed into the driver’s seat and flipped on the radio. She should forgive Conners for forgetting to call in, but it was a major step of the protocol. He’d better get that right next time.
Natalia lifted the radio mic and pressed the button. “Four Base. Four Base. Hauler crew. One head injury, but he’s conscious. Small rock fall. No major damage as far as I can tell. Lights are out. We’re on our way up. Come back.”
Static spit from the radio. Natalia was about to key the mic again when a familiar voice responded. “Hauler crew. Hauler crew. Four Base. Glad to hear from you. We were worried.”
Natalia smiled. “It’s all good, Four Base. As long as nothing shook loose on the haul tunnel, we shoul
d be at the surface in an hour.”
“Copy,” Gennie said. “I’ll tell Mac you’re okay and on the way. See you soon.”
Natalia chuckled. Gennie sounded like an old pro. “Can’t wait. Hauler crew out.”
She bracketed the mic and climbed back down to help the red hat bring Thompkins up.
* * *
The headlights of the Beast bounced against the rough walls of the tunnel. Dust hung thick in the air, reducing visibility to about five meters. Every now and again a chunk of rock clanked on the roof of the hauler, making Conners flinch.
“Relax.” Natalia didn’t take her eyes off their route.
Relax, she also told herself, flexing her fingers to relieve the tension of gripping the wheel.
It was a relatively straight shot to the surface, with only a few gentle curves to negotiate, but missing one would be painful. She pushed the Beast as fast as she dared to go, anxious to get out of the void now that the adrenaline rush was past.
“How much longer?” Thompkins lay in the backseat. The pain med shouldn’t have made him drowsy, but he sounded half asleep. His head injury must be worse than she’d suspected.
Natalia feathered the throttle up a notch. “Soon. Hang in there.”
“Hauler crew. Hauler crew. Four Base. You there?” Mac sounded gruff and impatient through the radio speaker.
“Answer it,” Natalia told Conners. “I’ve got my hands full.”
The kid grabbed the mic. “Four Base, this is the hauler crew.”
“Be advised,” Mac said, “there are a number of small slides and debris in the tunnel’s first klick. We’re clearing away best we can, but don’t know what you might run into.”
“Hopefully nothing,” Natalia said.
Conners gave her a nervous smile. He was relaxing some. Good. “Copy that, Four Base. We’ll be on the lookout. See you soon.”
“Four Base out.”
