The Thing In The Mine

by J. R. Ayers

  Kevin could feel the rescue unit’s strap pulling and tugging at his waist as he moved to the spot where he had lost sight of Ed. Suddenly the tether strap pulled taut, jerked a couple of times, and then went slack. “Ed!” Kevin shouted. “Ed, where are you!” Nothing but eerie silence.

  Dropping to his knees, Kevin felt along the track bottom trying to locate Ed. His fingers found something wet and warm, and when he held his hand in front of his eyes for a look, he was horrified to see blood dripping from his fingertips. “Ed, damn it, answer me! Where the hell are you!”

  Frantic, Kevin looked in every direction, his eyes straining to see through the darkness permeating the tunnel in front and behind him. A buzzing, irritating sound came to his ears and he realized that the rescuer unit was warning him that the oxygen tank had just depleted. A thought crossed his mind that he had no more than two minutes to get to the Kennedy Chamber and seal off the entry door before he would either die from lack of oxygen, or suffocate on the noxious gasses rapidly filling up the number two tunnel.

  Reluctant to leave Ed, he stood paralyzed with indecision until the burning in his chest reminded him that he was running out of time. He flung off the oxygen mask and began to duck-walk down the track toward the Kennedy Chamber. Suddenly an ear piercing scream split the silence of the tunnel like a hammer on an anvil. The cry came from somewhere back toward the fork where the number two tunnel split off of the main tunnel and the new cut leading toward the elevator. Although garbled by distance and all the junk in the air, Kevin instantly recognized the scream as belonging to his uncle Ed. “What in the world happened to you?” Kevin mumbled, immediately sorry that he’d wasted precious air by speaking out loud.

  Light-headed and disoriented, he stumbled up to the entry door of the Kennedy Chamber and threw open the exterior latch. The door opened with a hiss and fluorescent lights on the ceiling winked on. As Kevin stepped across the threshold, oxygen valves automatically switched on and 100% O2 began to flow from the vents scattered around the large room.

  Exhausted, Kevin shut the door, locked it and dropped into one of the chairs mounted along the chamber wall. He took several long, slow breaths, exhaling the poisonous gas from his lungs in an effort to regain control of his breathing. The pure air in the room flooded into his system and his vision and breathing gradually began to improve.

  “Ed,” he said a moment later. “Gotta help Ed. The words no sooner left his mouth when a booming knock rattled the exterior of the chamber door. Startled, Kevin crept to the door and opened the cover to a viewing port above the latch. He wiped condensation from the thick glass port and peered into the darkness outside the chamber. At first he saw nothing but thick blackness and swirling gas. Then the door shook on its hinges, suggesting that something heavy was pressing against it. A red smear of blood clouded the glass for a moment and then Ed Mackay’s face appeared against the glass, grinning so broadly that Kevin could see the wad of chewing tobacco stuffed into his right cheek.

  “Open up Kev ole’ boy,” Ed said still grinning. His muffled voice was oddly distorted, almost as if he was speaking through the blades of a rapidly rotating fan. Kevin couldn’t help but notice the gaping wound on the side of his neck. Dark, purplish blood seeped from the ragged hole and stained the front of the man’s coveralls.

  “Come on, let us in boy, it’s hotter’n a fast fucked ferret in a forest fire out here,” Ed chanted. “Don’t be a dick weed, boy, let me the fuck in!”

  Kevin froze as he realized Ed’s mouth was not moving when he spoke. He just stood there in front of the door like a grotesque ventriloquist’s dummy, his grinning mouth leaking blood and tobacco juice. “Let me in punk or a rip your face off and eat it for breakfast!”

  The words, though muted by thick glass, sounded like Ed Mackay speaking, but Kevin knew it wasn’t possible. Experience told him the man standing in front of the door wasn’t capable of thinking thoughts like that, much less actually saying them. No, something was terribly wrong outside that Kennedy Chamber and Kevin was at a loss as what to do about it.

  He was afraid to open the door. What if the same thing that was happening to his uncle would happen to him? Still, it was Ed, his family, his flesh and blood. Reluctantly, he reached out for the door latch, but quickly held up when he saw Buddy Sayers, his face blackened and blistered, slide up behind Ed and wrap his arms around the man’s head. Buddy’s fingers dug into Ed’s eyes and he screamed until Buddy pulled him backwards and dragged him away from the chamber into the concealing shadows of the tunnel beyond.

  Horrified, Kevin stepped backwards until he bumped into the phone on a wall across from the entry door. He snatched up the receiver and pressed the call button with a shaky index finger. A voice answered right away and Kevin began to blubber, the words spilling out of his mouth like water. “There . . .they. . .there was an explosion, and a cave in and Ed Mackay . . . there’s somethin’ wrong with Ed…Oh, my lord, you gotta help us!”

  A couple of clicks emanated from the handset and a woman said, “Calm down. You say there was an explosion?”

  “Y. . . yes. Logan number twelve, near the new shaft.”

  “Anyone injured.”

  “Yes damn it! They’re all injured. They’re dead for shit’s sake! I told you the place blew up!”

  “Okay, sir, just please calm down. What’s your name?”

  “Kevin Mackay.”

  “I’m going to contact Logan’s management team and get a hold of MSHA. You need to stay put in the Kennedy Chamber and answer the phone when someone calls back. Understood?”

  “Yeah, I understand. But we have to do something about my uncle Ed.” There was a long pause and the operator said,

  “If your uncle isn’t in a Chamber or isn’t someplace where he can use extra self rescuers . . . well, I guess there’s always a chance.”

  “Just please hurry,” Kevin said. He hung up and sank to his knees on the metal floor. Outside, he was sure he could hear his Uncle Ed yelling at the top of his lungs. “Just my imagination,” he murmured. “All this shit is nothin’ but my imagination.” But as exhaustion pressed upon him like a great weight, he knew that everything that had just happened to him was every bit as real as the pain and absolute terror he felt at that moment.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kara Mackay was in the kitchen of her doublewide trailer baking cookies from scratch. The air in the mobile home was redolent with the smells of cinnamon, nutmeg and cherry vanilla. With all those wonderful smells in the air, if one were to ignore the fact that it was late August, it would be easy to imagine that Thanksgiving or Christmas was right around the corner.

  Outside, a few drops of rain ticked and tacked against the frosted glass of the windows above the sink. The irrepressible humidity that had smothered the area for days had finally saturated to the point that the clouds had no choice but to devoid themselves of all that pent up moisture.

  She checked her watch to time the cookies she’d just placed in the oven and to gauge how long it would be before Kevin came home from work. Better figure out something for an early lunch, she reminded herself. I know he’ll be starved workin’ those ten hour shifts. Chicken maybe, or pork chops? She finally settled on fish, knowing that ocean perch was one of Kevin’s favorites.

  Kevin was the father of her twin boys Kenny and Kerry. Kenny, the oldest of the boys by thirty minutes, had his father’s brown eyes while little brother Kerry’s eyes were as green and bright as his mother’s. Although not identical twins, both boys were dark headed and tall for their age and Kenny in particular was the spitting image of his father, Kevin.

  Kara placed the frozen fish in the kitchen sink to thaw and poured herself another cup of coffee. The morning paper lay on a counter top and she flipped through the pages until she found the weather section. “Higher than normal temperatures expected until early evening, with a chance of rain throughout the day. Got that part right anyway,” she said, glancing at the kitchen window. “I hope the roof don’
t start leakin’ again. Lord knows we ain’t got the money to fix it right now.”

  Someone yelled out in the direction of the family room and Kara immediately knew that Kenny was upset about something. It didn’t take much to upset Kenny, especially if he didn’t get his way, and that was most of the time it seemed. She walked into the family room and stopped by the door looking at the boys. “Who was that who squalled out?” she asked. Kerry shook his head and pointed at Kenny. “It was him,” the boy said. “He’s mad because they turned off Sponge Bob Square Pants.” Kerry had a mild speech impediment—he had trouble with his ells—but he had an impressive vocabulary for a five and a half-year-old.

  “What do you mean they turned it off?” Kara asked.

  “Look,” Kenny said, pointing at the television screen. His bottom lip was curled into a full-blown pout and he looked so comical that Kara had to force herself not to laugh out loud. She glanced at the screen and shook her head.

  “The TV’s on, son, nobody turned it off,” she said.

  “But they took Sponge Bob off,” Kenny whined. There’s some lady on there talking about coal mines or something.”

  Kara walked into the room and sat on the sofa beside Kerry. The boys were right—the normal format was being preempted by a special news report. An anchor from one of the local stations was reading from a sheet of paper, looking up briefly as someone off camera handed her more papers. “A reporter from our sister station in Charleston has just confirmed that there was an explosion in the Logan number 12 coal mine last night,” the anchor was saying. “The best information we have is that the explosion happened around ten thirty last night, at least that’s what mine officials are telling the channel eight reporter.”

  Kara frowned and leaned closer to the television screen, her head cocked slightly as she concentrated on the news report. “A man named Jackie Hobbs who lives a few miles from the mine called our station here in Beckley to report a large explosion,” the anchor continued. “The witness says that he was feeding his chickens when, in his words, ‘the ground started shaking and a big rumbling sound came rolling down the mountain like it was a thundering real bad or something.’ “We have ground reporters on the way to the scene and I understand that channel eight has a helicopter on the way to the mine,” the anchor concluded. “We now return you to regular programming until we have an update on this developing story.”

  Sponge Bob Square Pants came back on and Kenny giggled with delight. Kara barely noticed; her mind was preoccupied with growing concern. An explosion? What kind of explosion? Why hasn’t Kevin called?

  The phone in the kitchen rang and she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Phone’s ringin’ Mama,” Kerry said, his eyes never leaving the TV screen. She hurried to the kitchen but paused before answering the phone, a little afraid of what she might hear. The answering machine clicked on and she grabbed the receiver. “H. . . hello?” It was Kevin’s aunt, Helen Mackay, calling.

  “Did you hear about the mine?” she asked shakily.

  “Yeah, just now. Has Ed called you?”

  “No. I was hoping Kevin called you. Oh, lord, this ain’t good. Not good at all.”

  “Now, Helen, let’s not jump to conclusions,” Kara said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. “I’ll call over to the mine and see what I can find out. Just stay by the phone and I’ll call you back after I talk to them.”

  Helen was reluctant to hang up, but Kara convinced her that she needed to keep her phone line clear in case Ed called. Kara’s next call was to the mine Section Foreman’s office. A man named Jenkins answered, declaring himself to be with the Wilcox Mining Corporation management group.

  “I’m Kara Mackay,” Kara said. “My husband Kevin is part of the crew that was working last night. Is it true? Was there an explosion?”

  “Yes, ma’am there was,” Jenkins said. “But we have a rescue team working as we speak drilling down to the area where the explosion happened. You say your husband is Kevin Mackay?”

  “Yes.”

  “We think he’s okay. He made it to a rescue containment facility and called up on the phone. He has oxygen and shelter from the gases. As far as we can tell, there isn’t an active fire in any of the tunnels. That’s about all I can tell you right now.”

  “What about Ed Mackay?” There was a long pause, then Jenkins said,

  “At this point, we don’t know ma’am.”

  “How long is it going to take to get them out?” Kara shouted into the phone. Hereto fore, she’d remained relatively calm, but knowing Kevin and Ed were trapped somewhere underground in terrible danger, was more than she could handle.

  “Ma’am, please, take it easy,” Jenkins said calmly. We have some of the best people in the business working to get them out. I know it’s hard, but please try to be patient.”

  “I’m coming up there,” Kara said.

  “That’s not a good idea,” Jenkins countered. “It’s a long way up here and there’s a lot of equipment and—”

  “I don’t care, I’m coming!”

  She slammed down the phone and ran to the refrigerator for her babysitter’s phone number. The girl said she could come over in about an hour and Kara begged her to make it sooner. Then she called Helen Mackay and gave her the bad news. “Kevin has my car, can you come get me?” she asked.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lori Mackay had just finished dressing for work when Glen Harper called up the stairs that something had happened at Logan number 12 coal mine. She hurried down stairs to the living room and joined Glen on the sofa where he was watching a local news broadcast outlining the events of an explosion at the mine. The reporter was saying that there was at least seven miners trapped somewhere near a new excavation site in the northwest corner of the mine. Rescue efforts were underway and representatives from MSHA and Wilcox Mining Corporation were on site.

  “Oh, no, Kevin and Uncle Ed,” Lori said, her hand going to her mouth.

  “They were sayin’ one of the miners got to a rescue facility and called an operator,” Glen said. “At least we know that one of em’s’ still alive.”

  Lori grabbed her hat and headed for the door. “I’m going up there,” she said. “Call me on my cell if you hear anything new.”

  “Ain’t that out of your jurisdiction?” Glen asked.

  “My brother and uncle are in that mine,” she said firmly. “That makes it my jurisdiction.” She headed out the door and Glen called,

  “I’ll be prayin’ for em’.”

  After stopping by the courthouse briefly to let mayor Brinkus know she was leaving, Lori headed out to Route 16 on her way to Logan number 12. As she drove, she worried, her thoughts alternating between concern for her brother and uncle, and regret for having abandoned her policing duties in Stephenson, even though she was effectively suspended.

  Kevin was three years older than she, and more like a father than a brother. Their father was killed in a head-on collision on Tams Mountain when Lori was just nine years old. Kevin had done his best to help her deal with the loss of their father. He liked movies, especially comedies, and he had a talent for mimicking the characters he saw in his favorites. His rendition of characters from such classics as Home Alone, Mrs. Doubt fire, and A night at the Museum kept Lori smiling and focused on something other than her sorrow and grief, at least for a short time. When she did give into tears of sadness, he would put an arm around her in his clumsy way and wait until she had cried enough.

  They never talked about it; she just seemed to know that he was there for her, in the good times and the bad. Kevin was her big brother and her anchor when she’d needed him, and now he was trapped under tons and tons of rock and coal needing someone to be there for him.

  She had a little trouble finding the mine access road, but no trouble at all finding the mine. No fewer than thirty vehicles sat on various parts of the property, some passenger cars and light trucks, but mostly large whit
e vans with MSHA logos on the doors. A news truck with its boom extended was off to the side of the entry gate broadcasting a feed to a local affiliate. The whoop-whoop of helicopter blades competing with the hum of several portable diesel engines was barely audible in the clear morning air. Men scurried from one building to another, some carrying rolls of paper under their arms. Most of the activity was centered on a roped off area on the west side of the property. Lori eased her Ford into a spot between two Wilcox Mining Corporation’s pickups and headed toward the barricade. She only made it about a hundred feet before a big man in a red and white checkered shirt intercepted her. “Excuse me officer, but you’ll have to stay back from the drill site,” he said. “They haven’t put in the first braces yet, so the ground’s a little unstable.”

  “My brother and uncle are down there,” Lori said, looking past the man’s shoulder.

  “Oh. Well, it’s still a good idea to stay back a ways,” the man said.

  “How far along in the drilling are they?” Lori asked. The man turned and pointed at another man standing next to the perimeter.

  “It would be better if you asked him,” he said. “That’s Jess Philips, he’s the mine super.”

  Lori thanked the man and walked over to Philips, careful to stay out of the way of the rescue workers. “Philips looked at her as she approached and lowered a cell phone from his ear. “Help you officer?”

  “I’m Lori Mackay. My brother and uncle are part of the crew that’s trapped,” Lori said. “Is there anything more you can tell me? Are you making any progress?” Philips shrugged and looked at the drill motor suspended above what was once the elevator containment cage.

  “We’re about fifteen feet in,” he said. “The explosion caused a pretty big cave in. The elevator shaft is clogged with a few tons of rock and dirt. Then there’s the gas problem. I’ll be honest with you officer MacKay, it’s gonna take a while to drill down to the bottom of that shaft.”