Part 8 (1/2)

”Yeah, still down there. We have no power, so it will be a while before we can get him out.”

”Do you know the extent of his injuries?”

”No, ma'am.”

”Do you know when he will be on the surface?”

”Ummm. Not exactly, no, ma'am. But we're hoping pretty quick. Maybe an hour before we get him out, maybe less.” He looked at the radio, hoping it would give him good news.

”Hang on, Stacks, give us a minute.”

Stacks sighed as he heard the dispatcher cover the receiver on her end, and ask a m.u.f.fled question. He looked at his watch. It was only nine in the morning. It seemed that this s.h.i.+ft had already been on for twelve hours.

”Stacks, sorry, I'm back. We already have one ambulance out. Can you give us another call when you get closer to bringing him up? We don't want one just sitting there because if something else comes up, we won't be able to handle it.”

”Okay. Let me log the call, and you do the same. There's always a safety review after one of these things.” Stacks hung up the phone. Sometimes, doing this job, he still felt like he was up-time and everything was normal. It was a comfortable feeling. But he knew it was false. At times like this he realized how deeply in trouble they all were, and how very precarious things could be. He grabbed the radio.

”How 'boutcha, Fred and Fred. Are you gonna flow some electrons pretty quick, or am I gonna have to do it for you?” As soon as he took his finger off of the transmit b.u.t.ton, he heard a large bang from the direction of the generator, followed by another, and then quickly followed by two more. The generator caught, stumbled, stumbled again, and started. He heard it stumble again, and imagined the guys scrambling to control it, working the throttle, nursing it until it flattened out into a steady roar. Finally, something was going right. The radio came to life as he sat down, suddenly very tired.

”There's your G.o.dd.a.m.n electrons. Give us a minute for this thing to stabilize, and we can start putting loads on it. What do you want first?”

”Give me the lift first, then service power, then the fan, and air compressors last. Let me know when you hit the transfer switches, so I know what's coming”

Deitrich and his men had to slow to a walk, sometimes feeling their way inby. The smoke and dust were so thick that visibility wasn't much more than five or six feet. He kept chattering confidently to the men behind him, and they obeyed his orders. Deitrich was a leader, and he knew what he could expect of these kids. And he was asking them for a lot. So far, they had . . .

”Deitrich! Here is someone. Over here! I have found someone.” There was a knot of men forming around a shape on the floor of one of the damaged crosscuts. It was one of Ernst's men; Deitrich recognized him, but couldn't remember his name. He wasn't breathing, but he had one of the ”rescuers” in his mouth. And he was burned. Deitrich touched him and knew the man was dead. He clenched his jaw, and stood.

”There's nothing we can do for him now. Leave him.”

Zing spoke up. ”Boss, they tell us in cla.s.s that we need to let them know topside ASAP when someone is-well, injured. Shouldn't we call for reinforcements from upstairs? They need to know what is happening, don't they?”

Deitrich turned on the young miner. ”I'm in command here. I'll do the thinking.” As Deitrich turned, he remembered the dead man's name. And his woman. And their son's names. He felt sick to his stomach.

He hated indecision. Hated it in him and in others. He looked forward into the smoke, and back toward the safety of the center of the mine and the lift. Then back to the smoke and the dark. Indecision was over.

”If we go out now, there will be no chance for anyone up there to survive. By going in now and searching, there may be a chance we can rescue someone. We're going all the way to the working face, and look for survivors.” He looked at the group. ”Any questions?” The cap lights shook back and forth and it was quiet.

Deitrich spoke in the lowest voice he could. But the power was unmistakable. ”To me, men. To me.

Let's go.”

”We're closing power to the lift breakers now. I don't want to lose the gen-set, so go easy. Run the cage down slow.”

”Thanks. Okay, CC. It's on you, buddy. Send the cage down and see how many get on it, then start hoisting. We need to get these guys out of there and figure out what's going on”

”Stacks, the cage is going down. It will be 'bout three minutes before it gets to the bottom. When they pick up the phone and tell me, I'll haul them up.”

”Thanks, CC. Fred, as soon as you can, and the gen-set is stable, give me service power so they can have some light down there.”

”Ten-four, Stacks. You'll have it in a couple of minutes.”

Stacks picked up the landline again, this time to call his boss, Larry Masaniello. It was Larry's day off, but he would be upset if someone was hauled away in an ambulance and he wasn't notified.

Deitrich was more and more worried that they wouldn't find any survivors. The closer they got to the working face, the worse the damage. Now they picked their way over debris piles, pieces of timbers, and finally . . . bodies. Whatever happened, some of the guys started to get away. Some of them had their shoes and miners belts blown off, and hard hats were scattered about. There was no doubt that there had been a methane ignition of some sort, and it had been powerful. They finally reached crosscut twenty-two, where w.i.l.l.y had said the roof fall had occurred. A large rock had fallen. He was afraid that all they were going to find was bodies.

”Check by the face, you three guys. See if there was anyone up there. Shout out for survivors, but don't forget to listen. If we don't find anyone alive, we'll head back.” As he said that, some of the explosion proof lighting fixtures winked on. ”Looks like we're getting power back. That's good. Hopefully, we'll get some ventilation going and clear this dust. . . .”

Deitrich paused.

He saw the layout of the mine in his head. The fan shafts where the air was pulled in and pushed out and all of the carefully-built stopping that had been blown out from the explosion. The fact that the fan was off had kept it from mixing any further, and probably limited the explosion. But if they started the fan now, all that mixing would happen again, on a much larger scale. There were still small fires burning and smoldering all around them.

The dread hit him like a ton of bricks. He swallowed and looked around.All these kids . He was going to try to get them out. It was the least he could do.

”Let's go! Everyone! Let's go! Out of the mine! Now! Fast as you can!” He took two steps backward and stumbled over some debris. ”Let's go! Run, G.o.ddammit, run!” He caught his balance and ran inby, shooing the ones he had told to go to the face in front of him. ”Move it! Let's go!” The group began to stumble away from the epicenter and began to run faster as their panic grew. Deitrich recognized it and let the panic have its head. It could only help.

They tripped, fell, cut themselves, got up again and kept running as fast as they could. All the while the panic gripped them, and they ran faster. They picked their way through the debris, trying to go as fast as possible, sometimes stumbling, sometimes falling flat. As one cap light fell, another would help it up and rejoin the other cap lights, bouncing and weaving down the pa.s.sage. They were grunting and breathing hard, some making noises like children running from a nightmare, as if they were being chased by some terrible monster. There was no speaking, no conversation, only animal noises.

As they ran, the darkness once again closed silently and inevitably behind them.

”Okay, Stacks. Fan breakers are closed. Go ahead and start it”

”Good job, you guys. Here goes. I got a green light, the fan is starting up. How's the generator?”

”We're stable. Go ahead and put the compressors on and we'll be back in business.”

”Compressor start . . . and I show a green light for them, too.”

”You owe us a beer. You know that, don't you?”

Stacks looked at his radio, sat down and smiled. ”Roger that. Beer is on me.” He smiled again and called the fire department dispatcher.

The cold light of the January sun had barely begun to light the old Pence house. Marylyn Pence, a widow, had been renting rooms in her home. It was a way she could make ends meet. She was at the stove, boiling water, preparing to make breakfast. She felt the blast first through her feet. From there it traveled through the house, where gla.s.sware rattled, and then echoed off of the hills surrounding the valley. She froze as the echoes died away. She'd become a widow when she heard that sound, many years ago.

A baby cried upstairs. Marylyn sat at the kitchen table, pale and shaking. Her boarder-or rather, her boarder's wife-went to quiet the baby. She heard the footsteps upstairs. Soon the baby was quiet. A moment later, mother and child came downstairs. She was beautiful, Marylyn decided. As radiant as the sun that peeked through the window. Marylyn always liked the kitchen and the way the sunlight bathed it at breakfast. She gathered herself. Before she could speak, the German girl greeted her.

”Good morning Mrs. Pence. It will be a lovely, sunny day today. A little bit cold,ja ?”

”Yes, a bit cold”

”What was that noise that woke the baby? It sounded like a cannon shot!”