The Journal: Ash Fall (20 page)

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Authors: Deborah D. Moore

Tags: #prepper survivalist, #disaster, #dystopian, #prepper, #survival, #weather disasters, #Suspense, #postapocalypic, #female lead, #survivalist

BOOK: The Journal: Ash Fall
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“Would you care to bring me up to date, Mr.
Boyle?” I said with an intended edge to my voice. I was not going
to let him use my being a female to dismiss me from the loop. It
did get his attention.

“Certainly,” he said with a restrained sigh.
“You will forgive my lack of protocol. This is a very serious
situation.”

“I’m very well aware how serious this is,
Roger, I’m here to help however I can,” I replied, softening my
voice. I looked around at the cavernous entrance. The ceiling was a
good twenty feet high and the width was slightly more, perhaps
thirty feet. A hundred feet in, the floor began to slope and it
veered off to the left. When I had been there before that slope was
plunged into darkness, lit only by the headlights of the vehicles
descending into the bowels of the mine. Now, however, I could see
shadows from unseen lights. I also noticed a drop in the
temperature even just twenty feet inside, and wondered how low it
dropped further in.

Boyle led me over to a large map fastened to
the smoothed rock wall. Overhead lights bolted into the rock pushed
back the gloom. It was a two-dimensional map of a three-dimensional
series of tunnels that led ever downward.

“It looks like a gerbil tunnel,” I commented,
which earned a sincere chuckle from the supervisor.

“We’ve learned a lot from those little
animals,” he said. “They too have constant switch-backs and widened
passing areas. The cave in is here,” he said, pointing to an area
two switch-backs in, “and it runs, we think, to here.” It was a
large area that was blocked, maybe fifty feet.

“Do you know what happened?” I asked, unable
to tear my view from the map.

“No, we don’t. It’s still too early. However,
we do know a few things.” He moved away from the map, glanced from
my pink hat down to my feet. “Steel toes?” he asked. When I nodded,
he started walking deeper into the mine.

My heartbeat picked up a couple of notches,
matching my increased claustrophobic breathing as we descended and
lost visual contact with natural light.

“This happened close to shift change, so the
day crew was on their way to the surface. The night crew was still
on top. We don’t let that many men below at the same time for
obvious safety reasons. Plus, there aren’t enough pods for that
many.”

“How many life pods are there?” I asked.
“I’ve done the tours,” I added when he glanced back at me.

“There are currently four. The life pods are
constructed of the hardest material available and designed to
withstand incredible weight. They’re large enough to hold twelve
men, and are supplied with food, water and air to keep them alive
for twelve hours, which is why they are placed at every turn-out.
One man alone could conceivably last six days. We’re not going to
test that though.”

We had arrived at another map, and lots of
activity, and a wall of smashed rocks.

“Okay, what we know is this. The crew was
approximately here when rock started shifting overhead,” he pointed
at the new map. “Some of the guys tried to make it out, although
most of them got caught and are likely dead. Only two made it out
and they’ve given us what intel we have so far. The rest headed
further back in just before the ceiling let go. We don’t know how
many made it to a safer area. There are twelve men possibly alive,
and within range of two pods, here and here,” he pointed again.
“From what we can estimate, there’s at least fifty feet of solid
rock between here and open space. We just don’t know until we can
drill through the blockage. At least then we can pump in some
0-2.”

“How far in have you drilled?” I asked. I
would need to go topside soon; I was starting to feel dizzy.

 

“We’ve made it twenty feet. That’s ten feet
per hour. It will be another three hours before we can assess when
we can start serious rock removal.”

“Where are the two that made it out?” I
asked. I already knew John wasn’t one of them, but it wouldn’t hurt
to ask them some questions.

“In the infirmary. They were pretty banged
up,” Roger answered just as the lights flickered and went out.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to stay calm
while I reached in my pocket for the Maglite. Once I switched it on
I felt better. Other lights were coming on now, mainly from the
dirty and chipped helmets of the workers.

“You should consider getting one,” Roger
commented as he turned on his own helmet light. He led the way
topside.

“It’s in my bag,” I replied. “I didn’t think
I would need it just yet.”

“While you’re getting it, you might want to
leave your weapon there. It’s against company rules for there to be
any firearms on the premises.” It surprised me that he was aware of
my holster.

“The world has changed, Mr. Boyle,” I
countered.

“Not here it hasn’t,” he stated flatly.

“As you wish.”

 

* * *

 

Once back at the mine entrance, I breathed
deeply, gulping in the fresh, warm air. Roger turned me over to one
of the night shift guys who led me to the infirmary in search of
the two very lucky miners who escaped the avalanche of rocks.

 

* * *

 

“Good afternoon, Allexa,” Dr. Mark greeted
me. “John’s down under, isn’t he? How are you holding up?” His
voice had softened and his eyes were filled with concern.

“I’m hanging in there, Doc.” I gave him a wan
smile. “I guess I’m still in shock over all that has happened, and
until we know for sure the … condition of those still trapped, I’m
not going to borrow trouble. I’d like to see the two guys that
escaped, if I may.” I realized quickly that I shouldn’t have been
shocked that Mark was there. He was the only doctor in the township
and he was likely the first one called. Still, it was the first
time we’d seen each other since my birthday and the greenhouse
kiss, and it was a bit unnerving.

I removed my hard hat and set it on one of
the vacant padded chrome chairs that served as a waiting room.

“They were badly battered by the rocks.
Travis has a concussion and Paul dislocated his shoulder. These
guys are incredibly muscular and it was difficult getting the
humerus back in its socket,” Mark told me. “Last time I checked
they were both sleeping. Pain is exhausting.”

I moved the curtain back and was shocked by
the sight of the two young men, still dirty from the rock dust,
lying motionless on two of the six blue cots.

“Mark, would you mind if I washed their
faces? I’ll be very careful. Being clean sometimes works wonders.”
Once I got an approving nod from the doctor, I got a couple of
towels from an overhead cupboard and a small bowl of warm water. I
sat down on the edge of Paul’s bed and dampened the towel. I wiped
the dirt from his chin, then cheeks. When I removed the sooty
smudges from his forehead he opened his eyes.

“Hi, Paul. How are you feeling?” I asked
softly, still moving the wet cloth across his dirty skin.

“I hurt everywhere, Allexa. Have they …?” He
closed his eyes again.

“No, they’re still drilling a hole, trying to
get some air in there. It hasn’t been long.” The water was getting
muddy. “Paul, did you see John at all?”

“I didn’t see him, no, but he always brings
up the rear, making sure everyone else is out.” He coughed and
groaned in pain.

If John was at the end of the group, that was
very good news. It meant he was away from the rock slide.

“You rest now. I’ll let the doctor know
you’re awake.” I swayed when I stood, relief flooding me. I
informed Mark that one of his patients was conscious, and moved to
the other one, having refreshed the steel bowl with clean
water.

Travis didn’t just have a concussion, he had
massive bruises and cuts on his face and scalp. I dabbed gently,
not wanting to add to his pain.

“You do that rather well, Allexa. You should
have been a nurse,” Mark whispered in my ear as I finished washing
Travis. “Thank you, I haven’t had time to clean them up. I can see
Travis needs a bit more attention to those cuts. Will you assist
me?”

“I’m really not qualified, Mark.”

“You’ve got compassion and a gentle touch.
That’s all the skills you need right now,” Mark replied. We worked
silently together, washing and dressing the wounds that were
uncovered.

By the time we were done, more than an hour
had passed, and the need to get back was strong. I found my
backpack beside the first desk at the portal. Knowing the switch I
needed to make, I went back to the infirmary.

“Mind if I leave this here, Mark? I’d feel
better if I knew this was in safe hands.” I removed my light
jacket, exposing the shoulder holster. I slipped it off, wrapped
the straps around the gun, and buried it in the bottom of the
pack.

“Leave it behind the desk,” he said
noncommittally. I’d never asked him his view on guns and wondered
if he was anti-weapon.

“Does this bother you?”

“I’ve seen too many gunshot wounds to be
pro-gun, Allexa, although I do see the necessity of them in this
new era,” he stated simply. “Your pack will be safe here.”

 

* * *

 

Roger met me partway down the first ramp. “I
was just coming to find you, Allexa. We’ve broken through! The
blockage seems to be only twenty-five feet, not the fifty we first
thought.”

“That’s good news! I’m assuming it also means
less to clear out,” I responded.

“Absolutely. We should be cutting recovery
time in half, depending on what we find along the way.” He glanced
over at me. “Are you squeamish? This might not be pretty. In fact,
it’s likely to be quite unpleasant at times. Can you handle
that?”

“I think she’ll be fine, she’s tough,” Mark
commented, coming up behind us. “Gray just got here so I left him
to tend our two patients, and to get ready for more.” He looked
over at Boyle and said, “Thanks for keeping me up on the progress;
those radios are very handy.”

“Which reminds me, Allexa, here’s yours,”
Roger handed me a small walkie-talkie type device to clip on my
belt.

 

* * *

 

Just as the three of us arrived at the site,
there was some frantic activity feeding a long device in through
the newly drilled hole.

“What are they doing, Roger?” I asked.

“The pipe that’s going in right now is to
hold the opening intact and to protect the camera that will go in
next,” he replied. “The camera is infra-red and will let us see any
heat signatures, which means live bodies. Next will be an actual
light so we can look around for other victims. Hooked to the camera
is a series of microphones, both to send and receive. If there is
anyone within range, we will have communication.”

The first images on the monitor that came
back from the camera were not encouraging, not until the camera
scanned the cavernous room on zoom. That’s when we were able to see
several inert forms further down the passage. A sigh of relief was
felt by all. There were men still alive! When there was no verbal
response from inside, the light was sent in and the camera was
switched off infrared. There were no visible bodies in the
immediate area.

“That isn’t necessarily good,” Roger informed
us. “The rest could be buried under the rock. On the other hand,
some may have made it to the pod in that area that appears to be
buried. We’ll pipe in some music while we work on this side.’

“Music? Why music?” I asked, shivering, not
from scene, but from the cold that was seeping into my bones. I
hadn’t realized how low the temperature would be this far from the
surface.

“If any of the men wake up, they’ll know a
rescue is underway. They all know the risks; they also know we will
do everything and anything we can to get them out in case of a
cave-in. Music is the sign. It will give them hope, knowing we’re
here and busy trying to get them out.”

“What now?” asked Mark.

“Now we start digging. We’ve got some
incredible machines capable of picking up boulders. The larger ones
will be moved out on trucks one at a time; smaller ones will fill a
truck first then be removed.” Roger looked over the map and the
wall of debris, slowly pacing the length of the fallen rock. “We’ll
start here,” he said half to us, mostly to the work crew, pointing
to an area to one side. He turned back to Mark and me and said,
“The objective will be to make a man-sized tunnel that will allow
us to get the survivors out of there as quickly as possible. It’s
going to be a slow and dangerous process, and I can’t let you stay
right here.”

I started to protest, but he stopped me.

“There are monitors being set up at the
entrance of the portal. You can watch everything from there,” he
said. “I’m also asking both of you to stay nearby in case you’re
needed.” Without waiting for us to agree, Roger led us out of the
chilly gloom.

 

* * *

 

I walked around in the fading sunlight, just
a few feet outside of the portal entrance, trying to get warm. The
temperatures had been in the low eighties all day, except we had
spent several hours two hundred feet below the surface at
forty-five degrees, and I was still chilled.

“I’m going back to the office for a few
minutes,” Mark said. “Can I bring you anything back?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind, I’d like my heavier
jacket, thanks.” I couldn’t keep my eyes off the monitors once they
were set up. One twenty-five inch screen gave us a view of the
inside, where the men were trapped, and another was a long view of
the work in progress.

As I stood there watching the sun touch the
horizon, a sentry insulated from the harsh work below, I realized I
was indeed alone. There were no reporters, no family members
waiting for word of their loved ones, no one. These men had no
family to worry over them or to grieve if they didn’t come out.
Even Steve, as much as he cared for this crew under his roof, had
gone. I was left here, the only one to weep or cheer.

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