The Mine (2 page)

The crewman didn't sugarcoat a thing. Gold Mine Road became Minefield Lane barely five miles from the highway. The pavement turned to gravel and dirt, shoulders disappeared, and ripples, rocks, and potholes showed up with increasing regularity. Spacious houses dotted the landscape roughly every quarter mile.

"Pretty ironic," Joel said with a laugh. "Million-dollar houses on hundred-dollar roads."

He slowed down to make a close inspection of a massive log mansion to his right. A well-manicured lawn ringed the two-story structure and three outbuildings. In the distance, a freight train, loaded with coal, sluggishly worked its way northwestward.

Joel started to pick up the pace until he noticed a fork in the road. The main route continued at right and displayed no signs of attitude improvement. The smaller, rougher goat trail at left veered westward and upward into a narrow gulch. When he reached the fork, he hit the brakes and brought his SUV to a stop. It was decision time.

"Thank you for that interesting tour of the outback," Adam said. "But I believe this is where we turn around and rejoin the wonderful world of asphalt."

For nearly a minute Joel stared blankly out the front window and lightly tapped the steering wheel. He turned down the volume of the car stereo.

"You're right," he said. He looked out the rear window and carefully adjusted his sun visor. "Hold on. There's not a lot of room here for a one-eighty."

As Joel maneuvered back and forth on the stretch's lone wide spot, at the junction of the roads, he noticed a small sign partially obscured by a bush. Weathered and worn, the three-foot guidepost practically begged for a fresh coat of enamel. But its four-letter message was as crisp and clear as the day it was painted: MINE.

Joel smiled.

"No!" Adam protested.

"It will just take a minute. We've come this far. Why not check it out?"

"I want to be in Seattle before the next millennium, that's why."

"Fifteen minutes," Joel pleaded. "That's all I ask. Come on. Mines are geologic laboratories. Where's your intellectual curiosity?"

Adam slammed his fist against the door.

"It's back at the Canary, with my sunglasses. Damn it! They cost a hundred bucks. This day keeps getting better." He lowered his head for a moment and then turned to face the driver. "OK. Fifteen minutes. Not a second more. I want to go back for them."

* * * * *

The drive to the mine itself took fifteen minutes. Joel left his Mario Andretti side behind and apparently took the crewman's words to heart. He navigated the twisty, rocky, mile-long road like a cruise ship captain sailing through a narrow, shoal-riddled strait.

Adam could not believe he had allowed himself to be talked into even leaving the highway. They had a long drive ahead, and Joel had dragged him into a glorified field trip. But Joel often talked him into things. It had been that way since the two had raided Tina Torricelli's summer slumber party in the seventh grade. Not that Adam minded. Like most who knew Joel Smith, he genuinely liked and admired the free spirit.

There was, frankly, a lot to like and admire. Intelligent, charismatic, athletic, and handsome, with thick, dark-brown hair, chiseled features, and a boyish grin that drew frequent comparisons to Tom Cruise and Keanu Reeves, Joel stood out in every crowd. He had an encyclopedic mind, the curiosity of an inventor, and the judgment and discipline of a three-year-old. He frequently coaxed friends into reckless adventures that pushed them well outside their comfort zones. But he was also unsparingly generous with his time and money, whether participating in service projects, picking up tabs, or hiring strippers for those extra-special birthdays.

Joel was predictably popular with the ladies. Though Jana Lamoreaux had cornered the market for two years, she was hardly the only one to shower him with attention. Adam knew damn well that the waitress in Helena had had her eyes on Joel –
wink action, my ass
– but he enjoyed playing along. That was part of the fun of running in his pack. Life was a game to Mr. Smith, and he didn't care if others won.

Adam was less enthusiastic about Joel's latest amusement. He wanted to retrieve his sunglasses and hurry home, where the resplendent Rachel Jakubowski hopefully awaited. A thorough examination of Montana's gold-mining past could wait for another day, perhaps the Class of 2000's fiftieth reunion. But his friend would have none of it. When they finally reached the mine, Joel parked the SUV and quickly jumped out. He had found his toy for the day, and no one was going to take it away.

CHAPTER 4

The goat trail had widened into a relatively flat, peanut-shaped clearing about half the size of a football field. Junipers and Douglas firs formed a protective barrier on three sides. Numerous tire ruts marked much of the open space, suggesting that the property had enjoyed a second life as a parking lot for outdoorsmen.

On the far side, three badly weathered wooden buildings and a boarded black hole defaced what topographical maps called Colter Mountain. The tallest building, an enclosed, silo-like structure, rose eighty feet and leaned five precarious degrees off its vertical axis. Gravity and the elements had rendered it a bowling pin for the next earthquake.

High above, the spring sun shined brightly. Absent most of the day, it grudgingly emerged from cotton-ball clouds to provide modest warmth. Adam could not believe that any place in the lower forty-eight states could be this cool on the cusp of summer. He stepped out of the car, walked past the Tower of Pisa to a large boulder near the entrance of the mine, and watched his friend make full use of his boy brain.

Joel got right to work. Rechargeable flashlight in hand, he climbed a short incline to the main attraction, stopping only to remove a prickly weed that clung to his jeans. When he arrived, he ran his fingers along thick gray beams that framed the entrance, paused for a moment, and frowned, as if realizing that breaching the mine might involve more thought and effort than a chip shot from a bunker. A patchwork of unpainted boards and posts covered ninety-five percent of the opening.

Adam knew it was only a matter of time before Joel attempted to reduce that percentage, so he put his hands behind his head, reclined on the boulder, and settled in for the long haul. He had seen this sort of thing before.

"Joel?"

"Yeah."

"I have a question."

"Shoot."

"How is your English progressing?"

"What?"

"Well, I was wondering what part of 'Keep Out' and 'No Trespassing' and 'Danger' you don't understand."

Joel let go of a loose board and looked back at Adam. He smiled, formed a pistol with his right hand, extended it toward his questioner, and fired with his thumb.

"Good one. I'll be sure to write that down." Joel returned to the board. "I think I can work this free. Why don't you give me a hand?"

"No, thanks. I'd rather watch you get splinters." Adam sat up. "Come on, Joel. It's been more than fifteen minutes. Let's go. We still have to go back to the diner."

"We will. I promise. But first I want to check this out."

Joel stepped away from the entrance, scanned his surroundings, and then started down the path. He appeared defeated, not inspired.

"Finally!" Adam muttered to himself.

But before Adam could lift his sore butt off the boulder, Joel picked up a chunk of limestone the size of a cantaloupe and marched back up the hill. Twice he dropped the rock, barely missing his light-duty hiking boots. Twice he wiped debris from his hands, picked up the object, and continued his ascent. When he reached the top, he put the chunk on the ground and brushed himself off. He turned toward Adam and grinned.

"You didn't think I was going to give up that easily, did you?"

Joel hoisted the rock high above his head and sent it crashing through the boards. He kicked and yanked the remaining wreckage from its moorings, tossed it aside, and stared at his creation: a two-foot gap that now allowed easy passage. Joel retrieved his flashlight, flicked the switch, and directed a beam into the abyss.

"Looks inviting to me!"

"It's a good thing Montana doesn't have laws against trespassing and vandalism," Adam said. "The sheriff might even give you points for persistence. Now, let's go."

"In a minute. I just want a look."

"What do you think you're going to find in there? Carmen Electra? Come on. I'm serious. We have a long drive."

Joel faced his friend. He held up his right hand and extended every finger.

"That's all I ask. Five minutes. I'm curious, OK? I've never been in a gold mine and want to take a peek."

Adam's hard stare crystallized.

"All right," Joel said. He glanced at his watch. "It's eleven twenty-five now. At eleven thirty we leave. Fair?"

Adam jumped off the boulder, held up his cell phone, and pointed to its screen.

"Eleven thirty."

"I promise," Joel said, smiling. "And look at the up side: If I find a gold nugget, the next hundred drinks are on me!"

Joel wiped the grimy lens of the flashlight with his grunge band sweatshirt, kicked a baseball-sized rock away from the narrow opening, and adjusted his first impulse buy, a felt cattleman crease cowboy hat he had picked up in Butte. It was not a hard hat, but he did not seem to care. He entered the mine and disappeared.

CHAPTER 5

The dust hit Joel first. It was industrial strength, the kind that sent asthmatics like Adam on benders and made even the hardiest breathers pine for a respirator. No OSHA compliance in this facility. The mineshaft was also incredibly dark. Pre-Edison dark. Stub-your-toe-in-the-middle-of-the-night-and-cuss-three-times dark. Joel mentally saluted the poor souls who had once made a living crawling into this hole. He wondered how much gold had been pulled from the mountain.

The shaft's first hundred yards revealed solid construction. Thick crossbeams and smaller wooden strips that ran along the walls and ceiling appeared sturdy, if predictably worn. Steel rails broke up a dirt floor and guided the way inward. To the right, a smaller, less-structured shaft veered to points unknown. Otherwise, the mine was remarkably unremarkable. The last people to move through this place did not leave souvenirs behind.

Joel pushed forward. With each step, he thought of gold and glory. But he also thought of the running clock, the drive home, and Adam’s wraparound sunglasses. Had Smiling Sarah put them in a lost-and-found drawer? Would she demand a phone number for their ransom? Or were they now the property of the pimple-faced boy who had claimed Adam’s barstool as the college students had exited the diner?

As Joel pressed deeper into the mine, he experienced the kind of solitude generally reserved for solo jogs, beach walks, and bike rides. It had probably been a very long time since anyone had wandered through the bowels of this mountain, maybe decades. Yet he was not alone. Small clusters of brown bats hung from the ceiling at fairly regular intervals and at least two rats had managed to stay a step ahead of the flashlight. The mine fauna did not appear agitated by the intruder, but Joel got the impression that they would be more than happy to see him return to the Canary.

He was about to do just that when he saw what appeared to be another side shaft, this time to his left. He directed the flashlight toward the narrow opening, but its beam was not necessary. A bright phosphorescent glow lit up most of the space, an unsupported extension that measured roughly fifteen feet by forty.

Joel knew that gypsum, calcite, and zircon, among other minerals, could emit light when exposed to ultraviolet radiation, but he had never seen or heard about anything like this. The blue light flickered wildly and covered nearly the entire cell. Only the back wall lacked significant illumination.

Driven by renewed curiosity, Joel entered the chamber. He ducked under a low beam, walked about twenty feet, and turned to face a particularly bright spot on the nearest wall. He placed a hand to the rock, half expecting his digits to burn on contact or pass through a membrane. They did neither. The hard, smooth surface was cool to the touch.

Joel examined the opposite wall and found the same. He could see no reason why a solid rock cavity, deep in a mountain, would put on the airs of a discotheque. What was this stuff? Sapphire? Uranium? Kryptonite? It had to be valuable. The mine was amazing.

I picked the wrong term paper topic.

He took a few tentative steps toward the darker rear of the room but saw nothing more of interest. The walls here were just as glossy and sheer but less illuminative.

A distinctive noise punctuated the silence. Joel froze. He had heard the sound before – on television, in movies, and at the zoo. But he had never heard it in the wild and certainly never in a place like this. He heard it again. Any doubt about its source disappeared.

He peered at the back wall and saw a poorly defined form move closer. Joel stepped back and lifted his flashlight. He stared at his cellmate. His cellmate stared back. Fat, brown, ugly, and four feet long, it appeared none too happy to share Studio 54 with a college senior. It was a Crotalus viridis, or badass prairie rattlesnake.

At first the snake appeared to give its human intruder a break. It retreated into a tight coil, hissed, and stuck out its tongue. Twice!

Joel got the hint and commenced a retreat. Even King Solomon's mine was not worth a trip to the hospital. Shining his light directly at the serpent, he took a few deliberate steps toward the main shaft and freedom. With fifteen feet to go, his confidence grew. Then he backed squarely into a pie-shaped depression, lost his balance, and hit the floor. The flashlight broke free and rolled toward the reptile.

The snake darted out of its coil and slithered closer. Leaving the lamp behind, Joel shot up, turned around, and raced toward the exit. He saw a sliver of reflected light that had found its way into the primary passage. He did not see the low-hanging beam, which popped his forehead like a Louisville Slugger.