Dear God, let him be okay. Let them all be okay. Let this be some stupid meeting about healthcare or 401K’s.
“What did they say?” I ask, my voice crackling with the tears I’m trying desperately to hold back. “Did they tell you anything?”
“No. They just said I needed to come to the headquarters as soon as possible.”
Tears roll down my cheeks as she cries into the phone. “Are you alone?” I ask.
“Yes. I’m driving myself. I’m on Five Mile Road now, almost there.”
“I think you’re just ahead of me,” I say, spotting a blue car a mile or so up the road.
“Why are you out here?” she asks, sniffling. “Did they call you too?”
I nod, then realize she can’t see me. “Yes.”
“Oh, Elin,” she says, sobbing once again. “What can it be?”
“Linds, stop. We’ll be there in just a minute. Maybe it’s nothing,” I offer, although I don’t believe it. Not the way this has gone down.
I feel like I’m going to be sick.
“I’m here. I’ll see you inside,” she says and disconnects the call.
I look at Mr. Walters and he offers me a sad smile, so I look away. Pity isn’t wanted. There’s no reason for it. Everything is going to be okay.
ELIN
We pull to the front door and I spy Lindsay’s car in the emergency lane, but I don’t see her anywhere.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” Mr. Walters asks.
“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks for the ride,” I say, jumping out of the car before it’s to a complete stop and heading for the glass doors with Blackwater Coal printed in black across the front.
The warm air smacks me in the face, making my perceived suffocation even more real. I look frantically at the faces in front of me.
Men, women, some in suits, some in mining vests. Some wearing glasses, others hardhats. The one thing in common: the look of devastation and fear on their faces.
“I’m Elin Whitt,” I sputter, slamming my purse on the counter. “Someone called.”
For a brief moment, no one moves. I look from face to face, willing one of them to step forward and give me answers.
“Follow me, Mrs. Whitt,” a large, burly man says. He starts down a long hall, turning to me as he walks. “I’m Vernon Trent, Chief Officer of Safety with Blackwater.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, peering through windows into offices as we come to the end of the hallway. I don’t see Lindsay. “I need to find my sister-in-law. She got a call too.”
A hiccup catches the rest of my words. Vernon stops at the doorway to a closed room. “She’s in here. Please, follow me.”
“This better be some stupid meeting about insurance . . .”
The door opens and I spy Lindsay pacing along the far wall. She turns as I enter, her mascara-streaked face racing towards me. I catch her in a hug, our arms winding around one another. I can’t cry. I won’t. Everything is going to be okay.
“It’s fine,” I say as promisingly as I can. “Shhh. Everything will be fine.” Brushing her hair away from her face, I pull back to see her face. “Have they told you anything?”
“Not yet.”
“Ladies.” Vernon’s voice fills the room, a commanding, yet kind tone that has us turning on our heels. He’s standing at the front of the room, flanked by a woman in a navy blue skirt and jacket, pearls, and her hair curled like a ’50’s housewife. A man stands on his other side in a crumpled looking black suit and tie. None of them look pleased to be standing in front of us.
My stomach drops to the floor and I squeeze Lindsay as tightly as I can.
Vernon looks at his associates before clearing his throat. “We have some bad news. Please take a seat.”
TY
My eyes open. I cough immediately, gasping for air, as my sight takes in an awkward, unfamiliar scene. The lamp on my helmet illuminates the floor of the mine and the dust that’s permeating the air above it.
What the fuck?
My face is pressed into the wet, slimy ground and when I lift it, a sucking sound shatters the silence of the darkness around me.
Shivering, I try to get my bearings.
“Pettis! Stop!” My voice rings out through the mine, over the piercing equipment and past Cord and Jiggs, the two men that stand between me and him. “Stop!”
He looks at me over his shoulder. “Calm the fuck down, Whitt.”
“No!” I shout, laying down my hammer and starting towards him. If he keeps at that angle, the ceiling will give and land right on Cord.
Pettis’ laugh drifts over the sound of the machines and I realize that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.
“Stop, Shane!” I scream.
He turns to go back to the mining machine but realizes what I meant. He pulls back but it’s just a moment too late.
The entire cavity we’re in starts to shake—the walls, the floor, the ceiling overhead—knocking me off my feet.
“Run!” I scream, my voice drowned out by the sound of chunks of black carbon toppling out of the seam and crashing in. “Get out!”