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Written in the Scars(87)

By:Adriana Locke


“We can’t do anything about that right now,” Reed says. “But what we can do is try to reach them from the top. Like Vernon said, water is a big threat right now, and unfortunately, Indiana has a water table that sits right above where we need to be. We’re going to have to cut through that to get to them.”

“Wait,” I say, sitting up. “But won’t that drain down into where they are?”

“It could,” Reed says warily. “But we’re hoping the pocket we hit will be dry or low. There’s really no way to tell until we get there.”

“My God . . .” Lindsay moans, bringing her hands in front of her in prayer. “Please help us.”

My gaze fixes on Greta. “Are you married?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then, wife to wife, bring my husband home.”





TY

Water droplets hit me in the face, causing soot from my blackened face to run into my eyes. I wipe them as best as I can and listen as the drilling gets closer.

We stand in a line, our eyes towards the ceiling, illuminated by Jiggs’ headlamp, waiting for any indication where the drill may break through. Waiting, too, for any indication that the ceiling may crack and we’re buried into the dirt like fossils. The walls of this tomb seem to squeeze together with every minute that passes, the air tasting more putrid, the noise of the drill more deafening.

A hand lands on my shoulder and I look at Cord. He smiles, his teeth spattered with bits of black coal dust. His grin is easy, and if we weren’t here, something casual like, “Hey, want to shoot some hoops?” or “Want to take Yogi to the lake with me?” would pass his lips.

But we are here. In this hellhole. One I’m beginning to think, with every creak of the ceiling, may be our final resting place. The “death” of “til death do us part.”

Shivering, I blow out a final rush of air. “Do you think it’ll hold?” I ask, nodding towards the roof that once was held upright by timbers. Those timbers have fallen, jags of rock and debris hang mercilessly from above like stalactites in a cave.

The drilling stops.

“I figure it’s going to bust through over there,” Cord says, nodding past Jiggs.

“Yeah,” Jiggs agrees, his teeth chattering. “The water is dripping like crazy over there too. I’m guessing they’re going through some sort of water table and it’s pressurizing down here.”

Cord and I exchange a look, knowing the possibilities. And that if the worst case scenario happens and this cavern starts to fill—there’s nowhere to go.

The buzzing starts again, more powerfully this time, as we make our way to what used to be the ramp out. The walls shake, pieces of rock and ore falling away and crashing through the room.

My heart races, my blood soaring through my head, making me dizzy. I’ve never been so helpless. All I can do is watch the room shake ferociously, watch the water trickle in more quickly, listen to the sound of the drills scream. My fate is in someone else’s hands.

“Hold on,” Cord says over the chaos. The cavern shakes violently as the three of us crouch in a corner. I can hear Jiggs’ prayers, the same one Elin whispers when she’s nervous, one their mother taught them when they were little.

My heart lodges in my throat as I flip on my headlamp and aim it at the sound of the drill.

In one hard bolt of energy, the end of the metal tool pierces the ceiling where we had been camped.

We jump back as chunks of the ceiling give way and a steady stream of water flows down the wall. Before I can process this, I hear voices.

Springing to our feet, we amble to the trickle of light from above. Chills break out over my dingy skin as we shout up, angling our bodies under the light.

“This is Fred Jaspar,” we hear from the top. “How many of you are down there?”

“This is Tyler Whitt,” I shout. “With me are Jiggs Watson and Cord McCurry.”

“So there are three of you?”

“Yes.”

I look at Jiggs, his eyes glowing. He pats me on the shoulder in relief.

“Tyler, do you have the location of Grunt Salis or Shane Pettis?”

“No, sir,” I yell up, the light starting to blind my eyes. “I think Pettis was killed in the cave-in, but we don’t know about Grunt.”

“How are you holding up? Are any of you injured?”

“No,” I yell up, shielding my eyes with my hand. “How are our families?”

“Your families have been notified. They’re safe and waiting on an update.”

“Can we talk to them?” Jiggs shouts over me.

“Right now, we want to focus on getting you out of there,” Fred replies. “We will let your families know we are in contact.”