Part 9 (1/2)
The old man smiled a toothless smile. ”I only lives 'bout a quarter mile up the blacktop.” He waved up the road, beyond the mine. ”I was up'n'bout when she went. Took me only coupla minutes or so.”
Larry nodded. ”Thanks, old timer.”
”My pleasure, son. What c'n I do?” Once again he flashed Larry the gummy smile.
”How well do you remember the lift system?”
”I 'magine I kin help. Y'all wan' me to take a look?”
”Yes, sir. I think I'd like that. Who's on the phone system today?”
Shackelton looked a Larry a little funny. ”I told ya'. April Lafferty.”
Larry's stomach took another flop. ”Yeah. You did tell me.”
The old man looked at Larry. ”You can do it, Boss. h.e.l.l, after all of the a.s.sholes I seen run mines over the years, you got it all covered. Y'all will be jus' fine.” He looked Larry in the eyes, shuffled to the door, and was gone. Larry saw that more people had gathered outside. He turned to Shackelton. ”Did you call the cops?”
The sixty-plus good ol' boy fromKentucky , who would be down there with the men except for his bad knees, simply nodded. ”We're gonna need more crowd control.” Larry stopped. He could still feel that sick feeling in his stomach. He fought it back. He heard the first ambulance roll up, followed by the fire trucks. He stood up straight once again. ”Emergency Response Team?”
Stacks nodded again.
Larry sighed. ”Has anyone called Reverend Green? We should get a couple of busses running between here and the church. This may be a while.”
”Prime Minister Sterns?” The lieutenant interrupted the meeting in the Prime Minister's office, causing all of the heads to turn toward him. This was the weekly morning briefing, and everyone who was there was supposed to have all the pertinent information they needed before the meeting started. If it was important enough to interrupt, it was going to be a surprise. And the men in the room didn't like surprises.
”What is it?” Mike's voice was level, his look clear and relaxed.
”Thought you should know, sir. Telegraph report from Grantville says that a very large explosion has occurred.”
All of the heads in the room swiveled and focused on Mike Stearns. A dark cloud seemed to come over his face.
There was a pause.
To the men in the room who knew and understood Mike Stearns, his pause spoke volumes. The lieutenant knew that the pause, the-dare he think it-the hesitation, meant the Prime Minister was caught up in thoughts about Grantville for a moment.
”Do we know a how big? What kind? Where in the town was it located?” The questions came hard and fast, a little harder and faster than normal.
The lieutenant swallowed. ”We don't have any of that information at this time, sir. The telegraph operator was an up-timer. He said he thought it might be the mine, but he wanted to be clear that this was unconfirmed, and more information would be coming as soon as he had it. I thought you would like to know sir.”
”Lieutenant. This information . . .” Mike cut off his statement, then started again. ”Thank you for bringing this to our attention. We can deal with this in a few minutes.”
Warner Barnes, an up-timer sitting alongside Duke Hermann of Hessen-Rotenberg, the Secretary of State, cleared his voice. ”Umm, Mike. This is Grantville. Why don't we take a few moments and . . .”
”Thank you, Warner. Right now there are more pressing things. More pressing places. Places and people that need our full attention.” Mike paused and took a breath, and looked around the room. There was a mix of government leaders, mostly down-timers, and the handful of up-timers supporting them with whatever education and experience they had. The Prime Minister's face grew grave. The lieutenant started to close the door, when Stearns looked at him. ”Wait. You need to hear this too.” He stood.
”Some of you are not going to like what I have to say, so I'll say it and be blunt. Right now, Grantville isn't all that important.”
All of the down-timer's faces showed surprise.
”It's not that important, not compared to what is going to happen in the spring. Because if what happens this spring fails, and we get our a.s.ses kicked, then Grantville is irrelevant. There's a lot that's more important than what might be happening in our-” He motioned to the down-timers. ”-old home town.
And if there's one thing this group has to do-we must understand what's important.”
Mike paused and straightened. ”When it comes to what we're doing now, it's simply not that important.
If any of us are thinking about only Grantville, or for that matter, onlySweden -” He looked at Tortenssen. ”-or only Hessen-Rotenberg-” He set his gaze on the duke. ”-then you don't understand what we're doing here.”
Mike placed his hands flat on the table and leaned forward to gaze at everyone. ”Thank you, Lieutenant.
That will be all for now. Please prepare a report when you have some facts.”
The lieutenant stood at the door for a moment, and then quietly closed it.
Reverend Green stood in front of the open door of his church, looking out onto the street. The cold morning air stung his face. It felt good. He breathed deeply and surveyed the block. The church was an old one, built in the Grantville's heyday, near the turn of the twentieth century. The ma.s.sive red brick structure sat next to the rectory. The first of the busses from the mine would be along soon. He stood on the steps of the church, in front of the door, watching and waiting.
The church ladies had already set up the meeting hall in the back of the church with food and more was arriving. He could smell some of it all the way up here. Hot ca.s.seroles and rolls, pies, dried fruit, someone had heated a ham and brought it. Plenty of water, maybe even some tea and coffee. The smell of coffee in the church made him think back to the time that it wasn't unusual to have coffee. Now it was almost a special occasion. He looked at the ground.
”Some occasion,” he thought, ”we could live without more of these . . .”
He didn't have to wait long. The first bus was full of down-timers, some he knew and some he had never seen before. It was escorted by a Grantville police car, the officers bundled up against the cold. As people left the bus, he began to welcome them. It was mostly women and children, a few old men. They came to him with vacant stares, glazed and shocked eyes, red with tears and worry.
He silently prayed for more strength and ushered them through the front doors, to the meeting room.
Most had not been in his church and stared in amazement at the high ceiling, the organ, and the serene color of the walls. It was warm inside and soon the place would be warm and humid, like too many people in a house at Thanksgiving, when the windows would fog over on the inside. Warm and safe.
”Welcome, welcome, please come in, welcome, go all the way to the back, there's food and drink, welcome, welcome, you'll be safe here, this is for families of all faiths, welcome, there's food in the back . . .”
There were at least forty people. Reverend Green turned to the police officers. ”How many are we to expect? How many are in the mine?”
The smaller policeman spoke first. ”Father, there are at least three more busloads of people at the mine.
Some won't leave, but you should expect at least another one hundred twenty or more. We're making it clear that we're only allowing families of the miners on the busses.”
”How many were in the mine? Do we know?”
The second officer answered. ”They think twenty-eight. They're putting together the rescue team now; they should go later in the afternoon.”
Reverend Green sighed and bowed his head. ”Are you going to stay here?”
”Yes, Father,” replied the smaller one.
”Good.” He looked up at the man. ”We're not Catholic here, so please don't call me Father. I'm a Reverend. We're Baptists here.”
”Okay, Reverend. You got it.” The policeman tossed a small salute his way, and smiled.
Reverend Green went back inside and headed toward the meeting room. They were going to overflow, so he approached one of the senior church ladies. ”We'll need more blankets, and we'll need to open up the sanctuary for people. There will be more. How are we set for food?”