A Message for Julia (14 page)

Their eyes met and Julia knew she'd never encountered a more kindred soul. Would their friendship survive even if their men didn't?

“Can we join you?” Missy's voice was small, and as soon as Julia nodded in invitation, Missy climbed up.
She crawled over the stick shift and settled next to Julia. Tricia settled in the passenger seat, the door closing loudly behind her.

The silence was comforting, like the sunshine that streamed through the windshield. They all faced the glass, looking past the chips in the windshield at the double-wide trailer in front of them. The office was now all but abandoned as the work crews had moved closer to the mine.

Tricia had cleared out Zach's locker. Linc didn't have a locker. This truck was his locker. There was nothing left for them here.

“I wish we could take off and just keep going,” Julia said.

“Like Thelma and Louise,” Tricia added.

“And Missy?” Missy provided with a tentative smile.

They all smiled and Julia didn't feel so alone anymore.

“What's stopping us?” Tricia asked.

“I couldn't find Linc's keys. Mine are at home. Linc probably still has his in his pocket.” Her voice broke. She'd yelled at him so many times when she found them in his pockets or the laundry, or worse yet, at the bottom of the washing machine.

“Zach's notorious for always leaving junk in his pant pockets. The worst are the fishing lures. We've killed more than one washer that way.”

“Thank God.” Julia laughed. “I thought it was just us.”

The camaraderie grew. She opened an eye and
glanced over at Tricia. Missy had fallen asleep. In that instant the girl's head canted and she lay comfortably on Julia's shoulder. It felt good.

“She's too young,” Tricia whispered.

“Aren't we all?” Julia asked.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

“For?”

“Coming to find me. It helps. I was slipping into a not-so-pretty place.” She couldn't say much more.

“Anytime.”

Warmth came from more than the sunshine, and Julia closed her eyes to savor it. For just a moment

Saturday Evening, Fifty-Two Hours Underground

W
ITHOUT THE COVER
of the incessant grinding of the drills, another sound burst out of the darkness. A terrifying sound. Linc sat up, and he heard the others move, as well. Robert switched on his light, its beam weak.

“Shit!” Robert stood and moved to the flap of the shelter. “We've got water.”

They'd been religiously pounding on the pipe and checking the water level until a couple of hours ago when they'd all succumbed to their exhaustion and fallen asleep.

“How fast?” Gabe's words were weak.

“Too fast.” Robert stepped out of the shelter.

Linc stood and hurried after him. They moved down the slope to where they'd placed the marker, but couldn't find it. It was completely submerged.

“Something gave way. Either a wall or a pump.” Robert stepped closer to the water's edge, shining the light back and forth, but the beam was too dim to see far.

“How much time?” Linc asked, his fear strong. Robert might have an attitude, but Linc trusted his judgment underground.

“A couple of hours, tops. We can slow it down some by building a few more barriers. But that won't stop it.”

“We need all the time we can get.”

They grabbed two more of the canvas battices and stretched them across the mouth of the chamber. They anchored them in place with rocks and scrap pieces of metal. Occasionally they had to stop and rest. More than two days with little food and diminished oxygen had sapped their energy. Linc knew the only things keeping either of them still standing were adrenaline and fear.

When they were finished, Linc could barely catch his breath and the rubbery sensation in his limbs masked any pain.

The canvas was holding, but the water was already lapping at the base of the first barrier.

“Come on.” Robert laid a hand on Linc's shoulder. “Let's get back.”

They were only a few feet up the incline when they heard the grinding start again. The drill was back in operation. “Thank God,” Linc breathed and he saw a smile on Robert's face.

“Let's just hope they move faster than that.” Robert tilted his head toward the rising water.

Inside the shelter, the others huddled together. Looking at them in the dim light, Linc realized just how worn out they all were. They wouldn't last much longer. He settled back into his spot just as Robert's lamp finally gave out. That left only the one light.

“We put up two barriers. It'll hold for a while,” Linc explained.

“They'd better drill fast.” Ryan's voice shook.

No one spoke after that, but there was no silence. The drill continued overhead and if he listened, Linc could hear the rushing of the water beyond.

He fought the heaviness in his chest and glanced at the meter on his belt once again. Watching it did nothing to keep the readings in the safe range, but he checked it regularly, nonetheless. He wanted to curse, rant and rave, but didn't have the energy.

The rattling sound of a wet cough broke the quiet. The kid. He was trying to be quiet, but already his body was reacting to the lack of oxygen.

That ventilation shaft had better get through soon or Linc wasn't sure if they'd be worth saving.

He knew the dangers of methane down here. They all did. No one who worked in a mine ignored that particular training lecture.

The sounds of their shuffling bodies and uneven breathing filled the air. He heard it along with the erratic beat of his own heart. His body was struggling, as well.

He didn't want to die here, like this. He knew there was nothing he could do about it, but that didn't make it any easier to accept.

He'd prayed more in the past couple of days than he had in the past ten years. Probably not since his father's death.

Did he even need words?

Wasn't it clearly written all over his soul? His wants, his dreams and deepest desires? They pulsed in his
bloodstream even now with less oxygen to keep them alive.

But dreams didn't have an expiration date, did they? He sure hoped not. He still had too many waiting to be realized.

He'd almost drifted to sleep when he heard a loud crash. The drill broke through, startling them all. Linc jerked and covered his head with his arms. Rocks fell somewhere, he could hear them, but he didn't feel anything landing on him.

“It's out there.” Robert still sat by the shelter opening and peered out the flap with the meager light of the remaining lamp. “I can see the drill.”

Everyone cheered, their voices hoarse, but strong with renewed hope.

As quickly as it came down, the drill head vanished. There was still a distant grinding sound that Linc knew was for a second, bigger hole. But the initial shaft for ventilation was through. He breathed a sigh of relief. The fresh air would make a huge difference, both to help them breathe and to provide pressure that would hopefully hold back the water. The whoosh of the forced air was a welcome sound that drowned out the rushing water.

Still, they had to wait.

Minutes passed slowly. Finally, a tangle of wires and equipment emerged through the small hole.

“Hey,” Robert yelled, not giving any chance that they'd not be heard. “We've got one injured and one with chest pains. So get your butts down here quick. And send some batteries and water. We're nearly out.”

There was no response, and none was expected. The equipment was designed to find them. To listen. Not to answer.

It didn't matter. The grinding continued. That was message enough. They were still coming for them.

Linc prayed the final hole would be done soon. When the water reached the top of the first barrier, the rush nearly wiped out the second. They shored it up but knew it was temporary. Very temporary.

Saturday Morning, 11:30 a.m.

J
ULIA AWOKE WITH A START
, not knowing when she'd fallen asleep or what had woken her. The length of the shadows outside told her it had been a while. Whatever had disturbed her hadn't bothered Missy or Tricia. She heard it again. A man's yell. His excitement cut the air and tore apart her lethargy.

“We're through. We found them.” Randy ran up to the driver's-side window and pounded on it. The others awoke and Missy stared at her brother as if not understanding what he was saying. He was smiling, so it meant the men were alive, right?

Julia's breath caught in her chest, a weight she couldn't dislodge. “They found them?” She looked at Tricia, needing reassurance.

“Yeah. That's what he said.”

“Let's go!” Missy shoved them. All three women scrambled out of the truck and ran up the hill.

Julia stopped at the crest and looked over the valley.
Tricia and Missy continued on, following Randy down the hill.

A watery sun fought valiantly to break through the clouds, but shadows crept over the ground between Julia and the brightly lit tents. She watched the men come and go. Watched the trucks of equipment move around. Were they even accomplishing anything? Patrick Kelly stepped out of a door then paused a moment. He hung his head and she saw him rub the back of his neck—to ease the tension, she supposed. She couldn't help but see the strain that settled over him.

He headed toward the family tent, his steps slow and purposeful. Suddenly, another man, younger this time, burst from that same door. He ran over to Patrick and grabbed his arm. She watched as they both turned away and ran back inside.

Julia was halfway across the lot before she even thought about moving. Something was going on and she was pretty sure it wasn't good, or at the very least it wasn't something she'd learn about soon. She couldn't stand waiting one minute more.

She reached the door and yanked it open. Noise and heat assaulted her senses. She realized she wasn't actually in the entry to the mine, but in a small room that was packed with men, equipment and wires. Everyone was talking at once. No one even seemed to notice her.

“The families know we had taps.” Patrick's voice broke through the din. “If I tell them about this, we'll have a madhouse on our hands.”

Julia shifted so she could see Patrick. He stood with
his hands on his hips, staring at a computer screen. She inched forward, trying to see what he was looking at.

“You have to tell them.” The younger man with a pair of headphones dangling from his neck spoke.

“That's not what I meant. We will tell them, but we have to find a way to get this to them.” He pointed at the screen.

“That's impossible. What if we see something…you know…”

“Like dead bodies?” Patrick asked so softly Julia almost didn't hear him. No one bothered to answer.

Julia felt the life drain out of her. No. The men couldn't be dead.
Linc
couldn't be dead. Not possible. She wasn't ready for that. She must have said something or moved in a way that caught Patrick's attention. Both men turned and stared at her. She moved again without thinking.

She reached Patrick's side and finally saw what they were talking about. “A camera? You have a camera down there?” she nearly screamed.

Patrick's hand clamped on her arm, not painfully, but tight enough to keep her from running and telling the others. Or to keep her from fainting; she wasn't exactly sure which he expected. She didn't really care, she wasn't doing either.

“You can't say anything,” Patrick warned her.

She hoped he wasn't expecting her to respond. She couldn't speak, much less run and share the news with anyone else. She couldn't even manage to force her eyes from the screen.

She watched, mesmerized, as the camera moved
down through a dirt- and rock-lined hole. She registered the uneven cut of the walls. Vaguely, she heard a voice talking to her. Linc? No. It was Patrick, speaking gently as if trying not to spook her.

“We've already sent the microphones down. They're feeding an optic borehole camera now. We're picking up sounds. We just aren't sure what they are.”

She swallowed. “Okay,” she whispered, doubting anyone could hear her over the noise in the room. She didn't really care. She wasn't leaving now, not physically, not mentally.

“We're almost there,” the young man said. “Shhhh….” What were they doing? Listening for something? What did they expect to hear? To see? She strained her ears. Nothing came to her. Everyone in the room had quieted. Only the hum of the computers broke the silence.

Then, faintly, she heard it. Muted male voices.
Please. Please. Please. Please.

The tiny light on the end of the cable led the way and broke through into a pool of pure darkness. Then nothing.

“Hey! Hey, can you hear me?” A voice? A man's voice came through the computer's speakers and echoed from the headphones still dangling from the young man's neck.

Julia's knees gave out, and she felt Patrick settle an arm around her waist to hold her up. He didn't let go and when she realized he wasn't going to drag her away, she relaxed a little. She couldn't speak to thank him.

Suddenly a hand appeared on the screen. She squealed
and jumped. Cheers erupted around her. “We got 'em,” the young man beside her yelled.

“Don't get your hopes up,” Patrick whispered in her ear. “We might have found them. But they're still trapped.” He was trying to keep her on an even keel, she knew that, but she wanted to hit him for stealing her relief and joy. The men were alive. Really alive. Not just anonymous taps from nowhere. Not crushed beneath tons of rock.

The hand on the screen moved away and only the darkness remained. Then suddenly a face appeared on the screen.
Linc!

Did she scream his name out loud? She didn't know. She didn't care. She nearly fell this time, and knew that the only thing keeping her up was Patrick's strong arm. She touched the screen. She could almost feel the rough texture of his chin, where the grime was thick and the whiskers dark. He'd never looked so beautiful.

She ran her finger over his bottom lip, feeling the cold, hard glass and aching to touch the soft, warm skin.

“Who's up there?” A voice she didn't recognize came through the speakers.

Julia stared at the small computer screen. Linc's face filled most of it. He seemed to move even closer as if somehow that would take him up through the fiber-optic cable. If only it could.

For an almost imperceptible moment, his eyelids fluttered as if in relief. What was he thinking? How was he coping? She wanted to shout that she was here, that she wasn't leaving, but she knew he couldn't hear her.

His eyes closed again, and he backed away from the camera. He couldn't see her, she knew, but she found herself trying to conceal her emotions. He seemed to be struggling, as well, but she couldn't tell what was going on.

And then she remembered that long-ago afternoon in high school. Linc had come out of the gym from boxing practice, looking beaten and abused. She'd been in the hall, getting ready to leave, and stopped to look at him. A bruise had marred his left cheek and a white butterfly bandage sat rakishly over his eye. He'd been much the same then. Trying to hide his emotions. Always strong, always tough.

He'd called her Fancy Pants and teased her that day. Back then, all the girls had a crush on Lincoln Holmes. Her included, though she'd have never admitted it. They'd been so close and she remembered wishing he'd kiss her. He hadn't.

Now he stepped away from the camera and she felt a similar disappointment. Mike Sinclair's face appeared on the screen, but not nearly as close. She could still see Linc in the background. She watched him hungrily, afraid that if she looked away he'd disappear. She wanted to beg him to come back. She wanted to watch him until they were all rescued, as if that would somehow keep him safe.

Linc turned and his back was to her. His shirt was rumpled and tugged loose from his coveralls. Mud was smeared all down his legs. Her gaze moved back up, clinging to his image, creating a final memory—just in case.