Chapter 1: Into The Rabbit Hole
In the middle of summer, rays from the sun bear down on the earth, long reaching fingers of heat licking at the surface of the earth as if trying to scorch it clean of all life. Unbothered, always foiling the suns deadly ray attacks, were humans. Glorious in their ingenuity and determination! Never satisfied and always hungry for more. More intelligence, more strength, more agility, more money, more, more, more. Their drive for advancement all consuming, leading them to unspeakably high goals. When one goal is complete they just pick another, never satisfied with what they learned, leaving the lessons learned, to be slowly lost to time. Billions of humans cover the globe. Billions of story's to see, hear and witness. Billions of personalities, billions of loves, billions of tragedies.
Today however, we’re going to focus on one human in particular. Well; two to be precise. Two men, who are currently standing outside the entrance to a deep mine. The two Shrugging off the suns vain attempts to scour life from the earth.
Standing outside the open door of a 1989 GMC Jimmy, cherry red with a stripe of wood siding tracing its side from fender to fender, stood a tall man with a square jaw, wizened intelligent blue eyes. Striking sky-blue pools many young women would have happily gotten hopelessly lost in, had he not been a one lady guy. He rolled large well muscled shoulders and slowly stretched his arms wide with a groan, many pops accompanied his straightening spine. He wore faded old jeans and a worn red and black flannel over shirt buttoned all the way to his neck. His name is Mike. Mike Brensen.
Next to Mike’s Jimmy sat a little Mazda Miata. Bright yellow with fine tan leather seats. Leaning against the Mid-life-crisis on wheels was a thin red haired man. His hair cropped at his chin and stringy, as if it hadn’t been washed in a few days. He also wore old faded blue jeans, the knees frayed and ripped, a well used blue and black flannel over-shirt, unbuttoned, a wrinkled baggy blue tank top underneath.
“Hey John!” Mike called out waving jovially.
“Hey Mike!” John responds with equal happiness, returning the wave.
Mike walked to the back of his truck opening the gate window, reaching inside he grabbed a backpack. His pack had all the essentials for deep mine safety inspections. The only item his kit was lacking was the traditional canary. Mike had no concerns about gasses. He had an innate ability to smell and identify any airborne toxins that could cause harm or death. Many times he was able to smell what sensors would miss, more than once saving lives. He pulled the pack over his shoulders and clasped the chest harness pulling it tightly against his back. Pots pans and other instruments banged together creating a metallic cacophony, as he shook his shoulders testing the straps. After securing his pack he reached into his truck again and pulled out a small hand pick. It’s barbed points, perfect for digging into stone and holding his weight, gleamed dangerously in the sunlight as he carefully hefted it.
“Do you have everything you need? It’s going to be a long few days.” Mike asked eyeing Johns equally bulging cacophonous pack.
“Yeah! I got all the food we’ll need, plus enough in case of an emergency. Even have a couple shots of shine for bed.” He winked at Mike elbowing his pack. Each strike causing a rattle.
“I’m glad you always consider the essential food group, alcohol.” Mike laughed shaking his head.
The energy around John suddenly changed, “This is the kind of job people call ‘the big one’ isn’t it? Like… we’ll never need to work again?” His tone insecure and looking for reassurance.
Mike grinned his most boyish, trouble making grin. “Hell yeah it is! This ground emanates strange seismic readings, making sonar systems fail, the only way to inspect the mine for the rare materials, or necessary repairs, is in person. You and I are the only pair of idiots brave enough to inspect this beast.” Mikes grin spread across his whole face. “Were gunna be rich!”
John cheered, dabbing enthusiastically, “That’s what I like to hear!”
After a day and a half of careful spelunking, They had just reached the lowest point in the shaft. Esoteric mining equipment laid abandoned near the pair. The two men poured over their maps detailing every crack, weakness, ore veins and fissures they were able to find. They were the best at their jobs. Their maps were extremely detailed and easy to follow, so much so that even in their limited industry, they were legends. With spirits up, all that remained was the climb out. Mike had just finished testing different ores, silver, coal, tin and nickel, while John made detailed notes about different supports that needed repair, also noting where steel beams showed signs of deterioration. They packed everything up joking back and forth, both looking forward to the shot of shine before bed.
Mike laughed, a full belly laugh, with a mouthful of half chewed bologna sandwich. That was the thing about John, no matter what, he could always pull a laugh from Mike. Mike choked on his food, spraying half chewed bologna against the wall, which made John laugh his high pitched hyena laugh. They were both in high spirits, elated and relieved the difficult job was almost over.
That’s when the first tremor hit.
It started with Just a small tremble. But the shake was enough to instantly sober and silence the pair of friends. Noise causes vibrations in the air, which this far underground could easily cause a catastrophic cave-in.
Mike carefully swallowed his food and set his sandwich down reaching for his pack. “Hey John,” Mike whispered, suddenly nervous about potentially causing a collapse, “how do you think this place will hold up in an earthquake?”
John looked uneasy, “Were in Montana, we don’t get earthquake’s.”
Another small tremor seemed to argue.
Mike swallowed, “Let’s say one happens, how well do we hold up?”
John considered the question carefully, “Well, right now we’re camped under some of the sturdier supports, but alot of the mine above us has little to no supports and a few good shakes could close them up.”
Sweat beaded on mikes forehead and his eyes began to nervously look at the walls, as if any one would explode inward at any moment. John did the same. They both silently began packing their gear. They pulled the packs on, clasping the chest harness.
Mike, voice lowered to lessen the chance of vibrations causing trouble, “You don’t seriously think-” but Mother Nature interrupted him as the walls began to violently shake.
“Oh you’re damn right I do!” John called jumping to his feet and running to the climbing path.
Mike also jumped to his feet following, a fear unlike anything he has known before dug in his stomach. They would never make it to the surface. They were so far down and the shaking was disorienting, walls crumbled loudly behind him, the crash propelling Mikes legs to move faster, they weren’t to far from the center support's which he figured was the best bet. John obviously felt the same as he scrambled a few feet in front of mike, leading the way.
“There’s no way we will reach the surface!” John called seeming to voice Mikes thoughts.
Mike knew better then to reinforce John’s fears, “John we can’t give up yet! We’ll make it!” He called trying to bolster John’s morale.
John seemed to feed off Mikes confidence, “There is a spot not to far up, they only drilled a small square and supported it with steel instead of this old rotting wood!” He seemed to dig the information from what he could remember of the maps they had been so carefully detailing.
Mike didnt need convincing, “Lead the way, we won’t get crushed! I trust you!”
The area around them opened up a little, John scrambled to his feet and sprinted when they were planted firmly under him. Mike followed just a few steps behind. The tremor seemed to last for what seemed like hours.
The sudden vicissitude of the unfolding events kept Mike reaching forward seeking the comfort of a small touch, even the lightest of connection between fabric and fingertips, simply to ease the panic and fear, which threatened to gag him with its intense severity.
Curtains of dust fell from above them, blinding the pair in their wild dash to a safe haven. Small pebbles bounced off their heads, each one could be a prelude to a complete cave in. There was so much dust, if Mike fell back he would lose sight of John completely, as it was, he was no more then a smudge of darkness a couple feet ahead of him.
Johns muffled voice reached back through the debris, “LEFT NOW”
The dark smudge in front of Mike suddenly vanished, and Mike understanding the command pulled hard to his left, his feet threatened to lose grip of the gravelly footing. He began to skid and for a moment, worried he would lose his footing and be crushed.
Luckily, he didn’t lose his precarious balance, his boots found their grip, and he shot to the left, running into john’s back. It wasn’t a large cubby but it was solid. On the back wall was a map of this floor and a sign that read,
“QUIET: VIBRATIONS CAUSE CAVE INS”
Next to the sign was hooks that normally held digging gear. The two friends leaned on opposing walls slowly sank to the floor, breathing heavily, sweat stung their eyes. In silence they waited for the shaking to stop, or, to be crushed. Whichever came first.
They waited, and waited….. and waited.
