The Far Side
Eddie kept his hand against the stone until the next blow came.
It was weaker than the last.
Water stirred below the shelf, carrying a thin scum of dust and oil past the toe of his boot. The passage dipped beneath it a few yards ahead. Beyond that, the roof descended until rock met its own reflection and the way disappeared.
He could not see the far side.
He could feel someone there.
“Can you hear me?” he called.
His voice traveled farther than he expected.
The answer came through the wall.
One blow.
Eddie looked back at Mary Jane.
She knelt beside the man beneath the coat, holding a little water to his lips. Keene sat against the rock with bread in his hand, staring at it between bites as though he feared it might vanish.
“Which of you crossed?” Eddie asked.
Keene raised his head.
“None.”
“How did you get separated?”
“Water came through the lower drift. We were by the rise. The others were beyond the dip when the timber went.”
He swallowed with difficulty.
“Thought they’d follow.”
Mary Jane lowered the cup.
“Who’s over there, Daniel?”
“Varela. Harker. Young Shaw.”
That left Bell and Dacey on the shelf with him.
Eddie looked at the water again.
Peter Shaw was nineteen.
He tried not to imagine the boy counting the time between knocks, waiting to hear whether anybody remained on the other side.
“How deep?” he asked.
Keene shook his head.
“Deep enough.”
***
They sent the first three toward the shaft before attempting anything else.
Bell could walk if he leaned on someone. Dacey could not stand.
Eddie and Mary Jane made a sling from the rope and the coat, working with the clumsy care exhaustion required. Dacey cried out when they moved his right leg. The sound escaped before he could bite it back.
“Sorry,” Eddie said.
The man gripped his sleeve.
“Just don’t leave it here.”
“We won’t.”
Eddie took most of his weight.
Mary Jane stayed beside Bell, while Keene followed with one hand against the wall and the lamp in the other.
The journey to the cage seemed longer returning.
At the broken gate, voices reached them.
Men from above.
Two had come down with another lamp, a blanket, and a length of plank. One was the worker who had stood in Rusk’s way. He stopped when he saw Dacey.
“Joe?”
Dacey lifted a hand.
The man crossed the passage and caught it.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then the newcomer took Dacey’s weight from Eddie, and the work began to move faster.
Names were called.
A place was cleared.
Someone swore softly at the sight of Bell’s feet.
Eddie stood aside while they settled Dacey on the plank.
His arms trembled.
He pressed them against his coat before anyone could notice.
Mary Jane touched his elbow.
“Sit.”
“The others—”
“Will still need you after you sit.”
He lowered himself onto a timber beside the landing.
The new lamp threw a stronger light across the shaft. Beneath the boards, black water caught it and broke it into trembling lines.
One of the rescuers looked at Eddie.
Recognition moved across his face.
He glanced at Mary Jane, who answered with a hard look.
The man turned back to Dacey.
For now, the living required more attention than the dead.
***
Calder came down with the next cage.
He brought water, another coil of rope, and Eddie’s coat blanket from the wagon. His face tightened when he saw the condition of the men going up.
He waited until the cage had risen before he spoke.
“Three?”
“Three here,” Mary Jane said. “Three beyond a flooded dip.”
“Can they be reached?”
Eddie stood.
“I need to see the old workings.”
Calder looked at him.
“From here?”
“There was a plan in the lamp cupboard. A rough one.”
Mary Jane nodded.
“Still there.”
She crossed to a narrow recess near the landing and drew out a stained roll of paper from behind a row of empty oil tins.
Eddie helped spread it on the boards.
The drawing had been amended several times. New passages crowded old ones. Pencil lines vanished beneath grease, and parts of the lower corner had softened until the paper felt like cloth.
He found the old rise.
The crosscut.
The dip beneath the flooded section.
Then he saw another line above it.
He leaned closer.
Mary Jane crouched beside him.
“That’s filled.”
“All of it?”
“They stopped using it before I came.”
Eddie followed the line with one finger.
A narrow connection climbed from the old passage, crossed above the dip, then descended toward the far workings.
He remembered standing beneath its entrance.
A hanging chain.
Broken boards.
Cool air moving over his face.
“Not filled,” he said. “Closed.”
Mary Jane looked at him.
“There’s a difference.”
“There may not be anymore.”
Calder bent over the drawing.
“What is it?”
“An old connection. Men used it before they drove the lower passage.”
“Can you walk it?”
Eddie studied the cramped line.
“Parts.”
The farmer said nothing.
Eddie looked up.
“I’d rather see that than put someone into water we can’t measure.”
Calder nodded once.
“Then we see it.”
***
At the shelf, the knocking had stopped.
Eddie called.
No answer.
He put his hand against the stone.
For several seconds, he felt only the chill of it.
Then something faint moved beneath his palm.
Not a blow.
A scrape.
He closed his eyes.
“Still there,” he said.
Calder watched him.
This time, he asked no question.
Mary Jane raised the lamp toward the roof.
The old connection lay above a ledge behind a veil of hanging mineral deposits. Eddie had passed it twice without seeing it.
A rusted chain dangled from the opening.
Someone had nailed boards across it years before. One had fallen. Another hung from a single nail.
Eddie reached up.
His fingertips caught the edge.
“Wait.”
Calder moved beside him and offered his joined hands.
Eddie looked at the farmer’s bent back.
“You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Then be quick about it.”
He put one boot into Calder’s hands and rose.
The stone edge pressed into his ribs. He dragged himself forward until his shoulders entered the opening.
Cold air touched his face.
He stopped.
The passage beyond was narrow, but open.
He could see several yards before the lamp failed him.
“Room?” Mary Jane asked.
“Yes.”
He climbed inside, then turned to take the lamp.
For a moment, the wall seemed close enough to move against him.
He kept his eyes on the flame.
Below, Calder coughed and straightened.
Eddie reached down for the rope.
***
The first stretch could be crawled.
Beyond it, the passage rose enough for Eddie to move on his knees. Old pick marks scarred the walls. A strip of rotten timber lay where someone had once tried to level the floor.
He pulled the rope behind him, stopping every few feet to listen.
Mary Jane’s voice came from the opening.
“Keep talking.”
“Still clear.”
A little farther.
“Going up.”
His own voice sounded strange in the confined space.
He could hear the movement of his clothes, the drag of the rope, the soft scrape of a boot buckle against stone.
Then the roof lowered.
Eddie lay on his stomach.
For several seconds, he could not move.
The lamp stood ahead of his face.
Beyond its glass, the wick burned steadily.
He stared at it and tried to remember the air outside Calder’s house. The bean plants under the flour sack. Jack’s warm neck. Ruth cutting bread while the stove ticked behind her.
His chest tightened.
He pushed one arm forward.
Stone brushed his shoulder.
Another movement.
His coat caught.
He jerked against it.
The cloth held.
Dirt against his mouth.
Boards above him.
His nails slipping—
“Eddie?”
Mary Jane’s voice reached him from behind.
He shut his eyes.
“Here.”
“What’s happening?”
“Coat’s caught.”
“Can you reach it?”
He forced his hand back along his side.
His fingers found a splinter of old timber driven through the cloth.
He eased it free.
The small, ordinary success gave him enough courage to move again.
“Loose,” he called.
He dragged himself beyond the low place and lay breathing on the other side.
Something ticked beside the lamp.
He looked down.
A pebble trembled.
Then stopped.
Eddie waited until he could trust his hands.
He did not look back at the low roof.
***
The passage ended at a timbered opening above a short drop.
Eddie set the lamp on the ledge and lowered his face toward the gap.
“Below?”
At first, nothing.
Then a voice, thin and cracked.
“Who?”
“Eddie Bone.”
Silence.
He almost regretted giving the name.
“Can you show a light?” the voice asked.
Eddie pushed the lamp closer.
Below him, a hand rose into the yellow glow.
Then part of a face.
The man had tied a dirty cloth around his forehead. His lips were split.
“Varela?”
The man nodded.
Eddie looked past him.
Two shapes lay against the wall.
“Are they breathing?”
“Yes.”
The answer came fiercely.
“Yes. But Harker’s bad.”
Eddie tested the timber beside him.
It shifted beneath his hand.
He pulled away.
“Don’t stand under this.”
Varela moved slowly aside.
Eddie found a sound rock shoulder farther back and carried the rope around it. He tested his weight against the line, then signaled down the passage.
Three firm pulls.
A pause.
Three more.
From behind him came an answering tug.
He tied off the line and lowered its loose end.
“I’m coming.”
***
The drop was scarcely twice his height.
It felt much farther descending into it.
Eddie’s boots found the wall, slipped, and found purchase again. He lowered himself until Varela caught his ankle and guided him onto the floor.
The man’s hand was weak.
Up close, he looked older than Eddie remembered.
Or perhaps the dark had aged him.
They stood facing one another.
Varela looked at Eddie’s chest.
“You were gone.”
“I know.”
“They said—”
“I know.”
The man nodded once, accepting nothing and needing him anyway.
Eddie crossed to the others.
Peter Shaw lay on his side with his knees drawn up. His eyes opened when the lamp approached.
He tried to lift his head.
“Are we going?”
“Yes.”
The boy began to cry without making a sound.
Beside him, Harker lay half upright against a folded coat.
One boot was missing.
His ankle had swollen above the torn stocking.
Eddie knelt and put a hand against his cheek.
Warm.
A little too warm.
“Harker.”
The man’s eyelids moved.
Eddie took out the water.
He gave each a little, waiting between mouthfuls.
When he leaned close to Harker again, the man caught his wrist.
“Don’t stop,” he whispered.
“We’re getting you out.”
“Pump.”
Eddie looked at Varela.
“Been saying that,” the man said. “Since we heard the engine again.”
Harker’s fingers tightened.
“It comes back.”
Eddie listened.
Beneath the drip of water, beneath his own breathing, there was a deep, uneven thump.
A pump working somewhere in the lower mine.
He had scarcely noticed it before.
Now he could hear the hesitation in every stroke.
***
They raised Peter first.
Eddie secured the rope around him while Varela held the boy upright. Peter tried to help, but his fingers would not close properly.
“Just keep your feet against the wall,” Eddie told him.
“I can climb.”
“I know.”
He gave the line a pull.
Above, Mary Jane answered.
She had reached the opening.
Calder’s voice came faintly from farther back.
The rope tightened.
Peter rose awkwardly, boots scraping, breath catching every time his weight shifted against the loop.
Eddie guided him until he could no longer reach.
Then Mary Jane caught the boy’s wrists.
A moment later, he vanished over the edge.
Eddie leaned against the wall.
Varela looked at the rope.
“Next?”
“You.”
“Harker can’t wait.”
“He’ll need both of us to lift him. You can help from above.”
Varela considered the distance.
Then he nodded.
While they worked, Eddie listened to the pump.
Thump.
A pause too long.
Thump.
He knew that pause.
A loose coupling.
Or a valve failing to seat.
The machinery in his memory turned, showing him one possibility after another.
None was good.
Varela began to climb.
Halfway up, he slipped.
The rope snapped tight.
A shower of grit fell from the opening.
Eddie stepped beneath him and pushed his boot back toward the wall.
“Easy.”
The man found a hold.
Above, Mary Jane spoke steadily, telling him where to put his hand.
When he reached the ledge, Eddie heard him collapse onto the stone.
Only Harker remained.
***
Getting him upright took time.
Eddie spoke through each movement, though he could not tell how much the man heard.
An arm across his shoulders.
Weight shifted away from the injured ankle.
A pause while Harker fought for breath.
Then the rope.
He needed a sling that would hold the man without forcing his full weight against his chest.
Eddie took off his coat.
The lining hung open where Ruth had cut it.
He folded the cloth beneath Harker’s arms and worked the rope around it.
Above them, Mary Jane lowered a second line.
“Ready?”
“Nearly.”
Harker’s head rested against Eddie’s shoulder.
The thump beneath the floor skipped.
Both men felt it.
Harker lifted his face.
For the first time, his eyes focused.
“Listen.”
The next stroke came with a metallic clatter.
Then another.
Faster.
Eddie went cold.
Not from the water.
Not from the dark.
He knew that sound.
He had written a warning about it.
“Mary Jane.”
His voice had changed enough that she leaned over the opening.
“What?”
“Tell them to stop the lower pump.”
She stared.
“Now.”
A crash rolled through the stone beneath them.
The floor trembled.
Harker gripped Eddie’s shirt.
Somewhere beyond the flooded dip, a pipe struck rock again and again.
Then the noise ended.
The quiet afterward lasted scarcely a breath.
Water surged along the passage.
***
Eddie shoved Harker against the wall beneath the opening.
“Pull!”
The rope tightened.
Harker cried out.
His injured foot struck stone, and Eddie caught it, lifting until the man’s body cleared the worst of the ledge.
Water struck Eddie’s boots.
It was not a wave so much as a sudden, forceful rise, carrying chips of timber and black grit.
He braced himself.
Above, Mary Jane and Varela hauled.
Harker rose.
His heel slipped from Eddie’s palm.
For a moment, the man swung against the wall.
Then hands reached down.
Eddie saw Mary Jane catch the back of his shirt.
Varela seized the rope above him.
Together they dragged Harker over the edge.
Eddie reached for the hanging line.
Water hit his knees.
A length of broken timber struck the backs of his legs.
He fell.
The lamp vanished.
Darkness closed over him.
***
He expected cold.
It came, but not first.
First came the certainty of the lid.
His hands struck stone.
He pushed upward and hit the underside of something that moved only enough to scrape his knuckles.
He opened his mouth.
Water entered.
For an instant, he was back beneath the ridge, trying to breathe earth.
He clawed at the obstruction.
A plank.
One of the old supports.
His coat was gone.
The rope was gone.
Somewhere above him, Mary Jane shouted his name.
The water turned him.
His shoulder struck the wall.
Then his back.
He could no longer tell which direction led to air.
He waited for his lungs to seize.
For the last, involuntary breath.
Instead, the pain beneath his breastbone spread outward, slow and burning.
The dark changed.
He saw a light.
Small.
Yellow.
Farther away than the passage could possibly extend.
It stood beyond the water, beyond the rock, beside a shape that might have been a doorway.
Someone waited there.
Eddie stopped struggling.
The stillness frightened him more than the water.
He could remain like this.
The thought arrived complete.
No breath.
No movement.
No end he could understand.
Above, Mary Jane shouted again.
He turned toward her voice.
His hand found iron.
***
The old chain lay beneath the water, fastened to a buried timber.
Eddie gripped it.
He pulled himself along its length until his shoulder struck the fallen plank again.
This time, he knew where it was.
He planted both boots against the wall.
The plank shifted under his hands.
A little.
He pushed harder.
Something in his chest seemed to tear.
The wood lifted enough for water to rush beneath it.
Eddie twisted sideways.
His coatless shoulder passed through the gap.
Then his head.
He rose against the wall and broke the surface beneath the opening.
Air struck his face.
He dragged in a breath because he remembered that he should.
Mary Jane lay across the ledge above him.
Her arm reached down.
“Take it!”
The rope hung beside her hand.
Eddie caught it.
His fingers would not close.
He wrapped the line around his wrist instead.
Above him, faces appeared.
Mary Jane.
Varela.
Calder, pale and furious with fear.
The rope tightened.
Eddie’s feet scraped against the wall.
This time, he climbed.
***
They dragged him into the old passage and laid him beside Harker.
For several moments, Eddie could do nothing but stare at the rock above his face.
Mary Jane pressed a hand against his chest.
He caught her wrist.
She froze.
“I’m here,” he said.
His voice sounded wrong.
Water ran from his hair into his ears.
Calder knelt beside him.
“How long?”
Mary Jane did not answer.
The farmer looked at her.
“How long was he under?”
“I don’t know.”
She said it too quickly.
Eddie turned his head.
At the far end of the little gathering, Peter Shaw watched him with wide, terrified eyes.
No one spoke.
Then Harker began coughing.
The ordinary, painful sound broke whatever had held them.
Mary Jane moved to him.
Varela helped.
Calder remained beside Eddie.
The farmer took his hand and unwound the rope from his wrist.
The skin beneath it was torn.
Already, the bleeding had slowed.
Calder saw.
He wrapped the wrist anyway.
“Can you move?”
Eddie nodded.
“Then we go.”
***
The return through the low passage was worse with injured men.
They moved Harker a little at a time, easing him around stone, stopping when the pain became too much. Peter crawled ahead with Varela behind him.
Mary Jane took the lamp one of the rescuers had left at the entrance.
Eddie stayed beside Calder.
He could still feel the water.
It seemed to move inside his clothes long after most of it had drained away.
At the lowest part of the roof, he hesitated.
Calder waited behind him.
“You’ve been through.”
Eddie stared into the narrow space.
“I know.”
“Other side’s open.”
He put one hand forward.
Then the other.
Calder kept talking.
Not about the mine.
About the wagon.
The mule.
Ruth’s bad opinion of both of them.
Eddie followed his voice through.
***
More men waited beyond the broken gate.
They took Harker on a plank and wrapped Peter in a blanket. Someone gave Eddie a coat that smelled of tobacco and horse sweat.
He put it on without asking whose it was.
At the landing, the bell cord moved.
The cage descended into view.
For a moment, Eddie could only look at it.
There was room.
There was a way out.
Varela sat beside Harker, holding the injured man’s hand between both of his.
Mary Jane stood at the gate.
Calder guided Eddie forward.
When the cage began to rise, Eddie leaned against the bars and shut his eyes.
Sunlight reached him slowly.
He felt it before he saw it.
Warmth across his closed eyelids.
Air moving against his wet face.
Men called out above.
The cage stopped.
Hands opened the gate.
Eddie stepped into the day.
***
The yard had changed.
Blankets lay beneath the shade of the engine house. Men carried water and tore cloth into strips. Keene sat on a crate with someone kneeling before him, speaking so softly Eddie could not hear.
Bell had a cup in both hands.
Dacey lay on the first plank, his face gray but his eyes open.
All six were above ground.
Eddie counted them.
Then counted again.
Mary Jane stood beside him.
For the first time since he had entered her room, the strain in her face loosened.
She took the cord from beneath her shirt and lifted the brass check over her head.
Seventeen lay in her palm.
She gave it back.
“Accounted for,” she said.
Eddie closed his fingers around it.
He looked toward the office.
The door stood open.
No one waited on the step.
“Rusk?”
Calder’s mouth tightened.
“Left while we were below.”
“Mercer?”
“With him.”
Eddie watched the empty doorway.
Anger stirred.
Then Harker called weakly for water.
Eddie turned toward him.
Rusk could remain gone a little longer.
***
They moved the rescued men into the shade.
Eddie helped where he could until Mary Jane made him sit on an overturned bucket.
His borrowed coat had begun to warm.
His hands would not.
Calder brought him water, then went to speak with the men who had stayed by the winding engine.
Mary Jane crouched before him.
“Tell me what happened.”
“The pipe failed.”
“I know that.”
He looked down at the brass check.
She waited.
Eddie could still see the distant light beneath the water.
He could still feel how easy it had been to stop fighting.
“I couldn’t find the surface.”
“You were under too long.”
He said nothing.
“I kept waiting for you to come up.”
“I tried.”
Her eyes moved to the scar hidden beneath his shirt.
“Eddie.”
He looked at her.
For a moment, he wanted to tell her everything: the grave, the slow beat beneath his jaw, the place he had almost seen while the mine flooded around him.
Instead, he asked the question that had followed him into daylight.
“Was I breathing when you pulled me out?”
Mary Jane looked away.
The answer was there before she spoke.
“No.”
Across the yard, one of the rescued men began to laugh.
A broken, exhausted sound.
Another joined him.
Life returning in awkward pieces.
Eddie listened with the cold brass pressed into his palm.
Beneath the noise, he heard three faint blows.
He turned toward the shaft.
Mary Jane followed his gaze.
“What is it?”
The cage hung empty at the surface.
All six men were in the yard.
Eddie waited.
The blows came again.