by Scott Weaver
loose gravel as Bobby and his dad got out of their vehicle.
"Hey, Jimmy," Bobby's dad said, making his way to his house.
"Hi," Jimmy replied, a little disappointed Bobby's dad didn't notice his cool, new hat.
"What's up with the helmet?" Bobby asked, walking up.
"It's old man Miner's old hardhat from back when he worked in the mines," he took it off, handing it to Bobby. "He said he would rather us play with it then it just sit in his closet."
"Pretty cool," Bobby replied. He flipped the switch. "Too bad the bulbs burnt out, shouldn't be too hard to replace though."
"Yeah, that's a great idea," Jimmy agreed. "So, where you been?"
"Went and put flowers on mom's grave," he replied, still messing with the switch.
"Oh," Bobby looked down, kicking a rock lightly to the curb, then rubbing his foot back and forth, like he had something stuck on the sole of his shoe, even though he didn't.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Bobby asked, putting on the hardhat. "Let's go do some mining."
"Rock on!" Jimmy said, tapping Bobby on the arm. "Get it? Rock on!" He pointed to the hardhat "Going mining."
"Yeah," Bobby nodded briefly, "sure."
They made their way into the woods. Jimmy was about to mention his promise to old man Miner but Bobby started talking first.
"You know, they say the old mine is haunted."
Jimmy scrunched up his face. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Why not?"
"Because the only places that are haunted are where people lived, that's why there are haunted houses. Nobody has ever lived in a mine."
Bobby stopped, turning back to Jimmy. "Places are haunted because that is where they died, it doesn't have anything to do with where they lived. Ghosts are in a haunted house cause they died there."
Jimmy looked off into the woods. "I guess that does make sense."
"A lot of people have died in mines," Bobby started walking again. "So if you think about it, there should be a lot more ghosts in a mine than in one old house."
"Okay, okay," Jimmy waived his hands up in the air. "You're right and I'm wrong, so what's your point?"
Bobby stopped again, turning back to his friend with a dark grin. "I'm thinking maybe we should go ghost mining."
Jimmy swallowed. "I was kind of in the mood to go diamond mining."
Bobby waived that idea away. "We've done that a million times, but we've never gone ghost mining."
"It does sound like it might be cool," Jimmy said with a shrug.
"We're going to have to do things a little different this time, though."
"Like what?"
"We're going to have to actually go into the mine."
The two friends just looked at one another in silence for a long moment.
"That place is locked up like a fort," Jimmy said. "We'd never be able to get in there."
"Won't know unless we try," Bobby had that smile on his face again.
"I had to promise old man Miner we would stay away from the mine if he gave me his hard hat," the words just tumbled out of Jimmy's mouth as his throat started drying up even though he kept swallowing.
Bobby turned back towards the direction of the mine, which Jimmy now guessed was less than a mile from where they stood.
"You promised, but I didn't, so you stay outside and I'll go in."
"Naw man," Jimmy pleaded. "This ain't cool."
"Take it easy," Bobby patted him on the back. "I'll just peek in. I won't actually climb in there."
"But Mr. Miner said the ground around the hole might not be safe. He said it could look solid, but then suddenly collapse."
Bobby started walking again. "Well, let's go take a look at least. If it looks unsafe, I won't do it, okay?"
"No, it's not okay," Jimmy replied, but started walking as well. "In fact, it's very un-cool."
"Just relax, ya nervous Nelly," Bobby said, pushing through the weeds. "A little look-see never hurt anybody."
Jimmy just shook his head, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach that seemed to multiply with each step he took.
They walked in silence for a few moments. Jimmy was certain they were getting close to the mine entrance, expecting it to be visible at any moment.
"Do you believe in ghosts?" Bobby asked from out of nowhere.
"I'm not worried about ghosts," Jimmy lied. "I'm worried about you falling down a mine shaft to your death."
"That wasn't the question," Bobby replied, whacking at the weeds with a big stick he had recently picked up. "Do you believe in ghosts?"
"Course I do," Jimmy leaped onto a rock and then jumped off it into the air, fleeting images of Superman in his mind for a moment before his feet hit the ground. "What kind of question is that?"
"So what happens when people die?" Bobby asked, taking another hard whack at the weeds.
Jimmy squinted his eyes, looking at the back of his friend's head, suddenly figuring out the conversation wasn't really about what he thought it was. He didn't know how to answer this question. He didn't want to even think about this question, much less the answer.
"They go to heaven," he blurted out.
"Then why are there ghosts?"
"Those are only the bad people," Jimmy explained, thinking of every scary ghost story he had ever heard. "They can't rest because of the bad things they've done. They're cursed to walk the earth because of their evil deeds in life."
"What about the ghosts that are here because there is something they haven't finished?" Bobby asked. "The ones that can't cross over, because they have to finish something first."
"I dunno," Jimmy replied, not really knowing what to say. "Like what?"
Bobby shrugged. "There's the mine."
Jimmy saw it as well, he stopped. Bobby kept going.
"This is as far as I go," Jimmy called out.
"K," Bobby said, not looking back.
"C'mon man!" he yelled at his friend. "This is stupid! Let's just go home!"
"We will," Bobby said in a calm voice. "This will just take a minute."
Jimmy ran his hands through his hair and then held his stomach, which was starting to hurt something bad.
"You know, I never really thought about it until now,"Bobby said, stopping for a moment as he looked at the shack covering the mine entrance. "But the warning they wrote on the door doesn't make much sense."
Jimmy glanced at the door, re-reading it for the hundredth time, but actually paying attention as he read it for the first time.
KEEP OUT read the first line on the wooden door, written in red paint that had been hand painted on the wood. DANGER explained the next line in the same fashion as the first. The last line cautioned DEEP MINE.
"It's that last line that doesn't make sense," Bobby explained. "What other kind of mine is there than a deep one?" He turned back to Jimmy for an answer.
Jimmy had no idea, and since he didn't really feel like saying anything, he just shrugged his shoulders and threw his hands up in the air.
"Maybe they meant some other kind of deep," Bobby said. "Maybe they meant deep beyond this world".
"So deep it breaks through to hell," Jimmy thought but kept his mouth shut as goose bumps raised from the flesh of his arms.
Bobby turned away without another word and went up to the chain-link fence. He started kicking where the chain met one of the corner posts. Slowly but surely the thin strip of metal that was the tension bar, which was clamped to the post, started to bend inward. After several more kicks, Bobby was able to get his thick stick in between the tension bar and fence and the corner post, slowly working the stick down close to the clamp that connected the tension bar to the post down at the bottom.
The stick Bobby had found was from an oak tree, so it was quite solid and it was as thick as a grown man's wrist, so it was a pretty effective prying bar. While the clamp that was being stressed on was well over forty years old, being exposed to many bone cold winters and humid summers. Needless to say, the woo
d broke the clamp after seven prying attempts by Bobby, who used the leverage of the stick perfectly every time, holding it at the very top while prying at the clamp with the very bottom of the stick.
The clamp snapped with an almost quite metal clank, which caused Jimmy's stomach ache to go up two notches.
"You broke it!” Jimmy whispered harshly. "Now we're going to get in trouble!"
"By who?" Bobby asked, sitting down and kicking at the fence, slowly pushing it inwards as the tension bar bent more and more. "The fence police?"
"C'mon man! Let's just go home!"
Bobby turned back. "Go ahead and go, if it bothers you so much, I'm going to take a look either way," and with that, he started pushing back the fence with one hand and then crawling under it, scratching up his arms pretty well in the process. "Damn it," he whispered as slivers of blood came to the surface of his forearms. He had been successful though, he was now past the fence.
Jimmy threw his hands up in the air. "Fine then, I'm leaving!" But he didn't move.
"Okay," Bobby replied, sticking his oak stick in between two slats of the wooden shed covering the pit leading to the mine. After a few jerks back and forth, the nails gave on one of the planks of wood. Bobby made quick work of getting the bottom loose and then moved up to the top and popped the piece of wood off with the creak of the nails as they lost the fight. Moving to the plank right next to the missing one, he got that piece off even quicker.
"Be careful!" Jimmy was so scared he didn't even notice how high of a pitch his voice was.
"I will," Bobby replied, thumping the inside floor of the shed with the stick before stepping in. A small click came from inside the shed. "Check it out," Bobby turned back to Jimmy. "The light works after all," the lamp on the hardhat gave off a
