Written in the Scars (36 page)

Lindsay and I turn to each other, burying our faces in the other’s shoulder, our sobs racking our frames.

“They did ask us to tell you they love you.”

I just cry harder. This should be a relief, that they’re alive and well, but it’s not. It means they’re aware they’re stuck a few hundred feet below the surface. It means they’ve probably witnessed their friends die. It means a miner’s biggest fear has been realized by my husband, brother, and friend.

“Vernon?” I ask, wiping my eyes. “What are the chances we will get them out?”

“I can’t say.”

“Yes, you can,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “What is the percentage that all three of them will get out of there?”

“We’re doing the best we can.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“Mrs. Whitt,” he says, his voice full of anguish, “that’s all I have. We are doing everything in our power to bring them home.” He walks to the door and opens it, but pauses before leaving. “If you ladies need anything else, I’m right out here.”

TY

Cord tosses a pebble. It hits a puddle of water and splashes. Years of fishing and skipping rocks tells me that the water is deeper over there than a simple wet patch.

Jiggs’ light goes off on his helmet as he leans against the slick mine wall. He mumbles in his sleep, something about a transmission. Cord and I grin, but don’t laugh. Any other time, we’d heckle him relentlessly, but not today. Not now. We just let him enjoy the simple annoyances of a transmission.

The glow from the light illuminates the trash from the food and the emptied bottles. I lift a leg, my body cold, wet, and aching. My clothes are completely soaked through, even though the mining bibs are supposed to be waterproof. I guess they aren’t made to sit in this shit for hours on end.

Or days?

“How long you figure we’ve been down here?” I ask Cord, keeping my voice down so as not to wake Jiggs.

He tosses another pebble. “Fuck if I know.” Another pebble launches. “Hopefully not much longer.”

Another pebble goes sailing.

“I’ve been thinking . . .” I force a swallow. Once this is decided upon, it will be a sealed deal. And as Foreman, it’s my decision. I remember how many decisions I’ve had to make and how many I hated making and laugh. I’d give anything to trade those stupid choices with this one.

“If the bore works,” I say, “we need to agree on who goes out in what order.”

Cord’s eyes darken. “I go last.”

“No,” I gulp, the words stinging my throat. “I have to go last. I’m the boss.”

“Fuck that,” Cord says, the remaining debris in his hand rocketing across the room. “You two have wives, families. I’ll go last.”

“I can’t do that, Cord.”

“Sure you can.”

Blowing out a breath, I steady myself. “I will agree Jiggs goes first. Lindsay is pregnant. That gives him seniority, in my opinion.”

Cord nods, his mouth opening for a split second. He shakes his head and growls through the room.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing.” He removes his helmet and sits it beside him. “Okay. Jiggs first. I agree with that. Then you.”

He looks pointedly at me, a fire to his gaze that I don’t see often.

“I’m the Foreman,” I point out. “I took an oath to get my men in and out every shift.”

“I really don’t give a shit,” he chuckles angrily.

“Damn it, Cord. If something happened to you, do you think I’d be able to live with myself knowing I left you behind?”

“That works both ways, Mr. Foreman. I’m not about to go up and tell Elin, ‘He’ll be right here.’”

Staggering to my feet, I wince as my left leg screams in agony. “It’s Jiggs. You. Then me. Got it?” I bark.

He watches me closely, his lips forming a thin line. Finally, he shrugs and stands, grabbing his helmet off the ground. “Whatever, Whitt. I’m gonna go take a leak.”

His boots splash in the water as he makes his way into the darkness. I watch him until I can’t see him anymore, then I turn to Jiggs. He’s smiling in his sleep, his face streaked black, making him look like a cartoon character.

My knees buckle as the situation slams into me. I catch myself on the wall.

“Dear God,” I whisper, feeling my lashes touch the grit on my face. “Please get us out of here.”

ELIN

“I love you.”

Even though I didn’t say the words out loud, I can hear them ricochet through my mind.

Ty’s face is all I see, his wide grin highlighted vividly in my mind. I see his thick lashes, the little freckle on the right side of his nose. The way his dark hair contrasts with his fair skin.

It’s comforting, the only relief I can find in this madness. I feel connected to him this way, to imagine him in front of me and talking to him.

“We’ve been through some crap lately, huh?” I say, although not out loud. My words, again, are for he and I only.

I block out Lindsay talking quietly on her cell phone across the room. I ignore the faint sounds of the office that shares a wall of this conference area we’ve settled into over the last day. I concentrate on Ty.

Tears wet my lashes as I let that thought wash over me. “You’re a survivor,” I tell him. “You’ve made it through hell before. And I need you now more than ever.”

My hand goes to my belly and I fight the tears. “I have a surprise for you, Ty.”

I catch a sob before it escapes and I draw Lindsay’s attention. Right now, stressed to the max, the lights dim, my life on pause, I need this moment with my husband—real or not.

“You have so much to do here yet. I need you to fix the back door. I need you to make sure the furnace is still on. I need you to hold me,” I say, even my not-real voice breaking.

My body quakes with the tears that beg to spill, my back lifting off the brown fabric of the chair.

“Get my brother and get Cord and get out of there,” I beg. “Do you hear me?” I scream inside my head. “You can’t leave me here! Not again.”

A man’s voice makes me jump, nearly catapulting out of my chair. My lids fly open, only to see Vernon standing at the front of the room.

Lindsay gives me a strange look and I realize I must not have heard him knock.

“I just received an update from the mining board. We will begin boring into the hole within the hour,” he relays.

I glance at the clock. It’s nearly noon, Ty’s day off. “That’s fantastic!” I exclaim.

“It’s great news,” he says cautiously. “Just remember, this is not a guarantee.” He holds his hands out as Lindsay and I balk. “I don’t want to scare you, but I want you to be aware of the risks.”

“Which are?” Lindsay asks.

“We have flown in an expert in this kind of thing. He has designed plans to extract miners numerous times before, so we have reason to be optimistic. But you have to remember, we are battling Mother Nature. There are no guarantees.”

The room suddenly feels too small. The air too stale. The lights too fake.

I begin to pace, walking back and forth across the laminated floor. “I need to get out of here,” I say, stopping and looking at Vernon. “Can we get closer to the mine?”

“I can get you into a different room here, certainly. But we aren’t authorized to get any closer to the mine. And I strongly suggest not going outside, unless you want to give a statement to the press. They’re camped out, waiting for news, just like we are.”

My head tilts towards the ceiling and I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders.

“I’ll work on getting a fan brought in. Maybe circulating the air will help?” he asks.

I watch him like he’s crazy. No, a fan won’t help. No, circulating the air won’t help.

Having my husband and going home will help.

He seems to sense my thoughts and backs towards the door. “We will do our best to update you before any news hits the media. They are outside filming. If you’d like to watch, I can bring in a television . . .”

Lindsay looks at me and I stare blankly at him. He leaves.

TY

Jiggs sits on top of a lump of coal, his head buried in his hands. Water laps at the tops of his boots, just like it does mine.

It leaks inside my boots, the bitter cold stinging my toes. Our teeth are chattering as we struggle to stay out of hypothermia. It’s been this way for a couple of hours now.

My spirits are falling, as much as I try to keep them up for all of us. I’m tired, cold, achy. And I have this overwhelming fear that’s taken root in my gut as my energy wanes that this isn’t going to end well. Every hour we’re down here increases the chances we won’t make it out. That’s why they suggested we write these letters. They know the odds.

Shivering, my heart as broken as the walls of this cavern, I look into the darkness. So many things I didn’t do, so many things I put off, so many things I took for granted because who would’ve thought this would’ve happened to me.

I look at my friends.

To us?

Cord takes the pen from me and rips a sheet of paper from the notepad the top sent down. I can see the paper wet as his damp fingers touch it.

A heaviness sits on us, silencing us all. Once they start boring, which they informed us will happen shortly, our contact with the outside world will cease. All attention will be put on the bore and the reservoir of water sitting on our heads, the same water that’s slowly filling the room.