Michael Palmer - Fatal

"Lewis, how long has it been since you worked for the mine?"

"Well… we ain't done none for ten year or more."

"I'm surprised they let you live, knowing what you do."

"Oh, they considered sendin' men out, all rot, but then they got smart an' sent money instead."

"They've been bribing you for ten years?"

"Ah s'pose ya could say that, yes."

"Lewis, you know I'm going to close that dump down, if it takes the rest of my life."

"Ah know."

"Well, I don't know how much money you guys will lose when your payments stop, but I want to tell you how much I appreciate your doing this."

"Ya bin good ta us," Lewis said simply.

Matt panned his flash over the tunnel ahead. The walls, ceiling, and floor appeared to narrow like a corridor in Alice in Wonderland.

"How low and narrow does this get?" he whispered.

"Ya kin make it through," Lewis said. "Jes don't take no deep breaths." He snickered.

"Lewis, I don't know how to tell you this, but I… I have trouble with tight, enclosed places. Always have. I get, like, panicky in them."

"Now, whar in the hell did a Wes Verginny boy come up with their1 Ya gonna make it jes fine, Doc. They's only a few places whar yer gonna have ta crawl an' squeeze through."

"Jesus," Matt muttered.

"It's bin a while since Ah bin in here, so we'd best move slowly. Tain't the tight places ya got ta worry about. It's the drop-offs."

Keeping their lights fixed on the damp stone floor, the two of them headed steadily downward into the mountain. The sound of running or falling water was a constant, at times seeming quite close, at times echoing through a side tunnel. Twice they had to press against a wall and walk sideways along the edge of a precipice. Once, Matt deliberately kicked some pebbles into the dark maw. The splash was barely audible.

"Ah don' thank y' wanna fall down thar," Lewis said.

The narrow tunnel took a number of turns, and Matt began to wonder if they would have trouble making their way out again. But Lewis seemed to be moving with confidence through the stale, heavy air. Once, an especially low, tight passage forced him to his knees. Matt could not get down low enough and had to negotiate ten or twelve feet wriggling along on his belly, Marine style. His pulse instantly began pounding. He found himself thinking about cave hunters and wondering how they could possibly experience anything but terror traversing narrow slits in rock with no hope of being able to kneel, turn around, or even roll over, and no certainty that the way wouldn't suddenly end. The notion made him queasy and tightened the muscles between his shoulder blades.

Shortly after they were able to stand, the tunnel widened and began to receive broad tributaries from the left. The air became less oppressively heavy.

"Thar," Lewis whispered, pointing down one such tunnel. "Thet's one a the ways we brung the barrels in. Hauled 'em on dollies, we did."

"Who does it now?" Matt asked.

"Beats me. Per all Ah know, they done stopped."

"I don't think so… Wait. Do you smell that?"

"Ah do. The cave wer after ain't too far ahead."

The odor was of chemicals — sweet, pungent, and slightly nauseating. Gasoline, toluene — Matt tried to pin it down, but couldn't with certainty. Gotcha! he thought. The frustrating years of trying to show the public what sort of morality was running Belinda Coal and Coke were about to bear fruit. In addition to the chemical smell, the sound of rushing water was again echoing off the damp stone walls. To their left, just beyond where Lewis was standing, Matt could make out a small river, bursting through a wide rent in the rock. His flashlight beam reflected off the dark water and lit the open space beyond. Overhead, the ceiling sloped upward. The organic odor was now intense. Whatever sorts of chemicals were up ahead certainly weren't well contained.

"Lewis," he whispered, "is this it?"

"Rot thar," Lewis said, waving his light ahead, then cutting it off.

For nearly a minute, the two men stood together in the darkness. The sound of the rushing river filled the cavern, which Matt now sensed was quite vast.

"Go easy, an' move right," Lewis ordered. "No more light 'til wer sure we got no compny."

"I can see them, Lewis," Matt said excitedly. "I can see the barrels!"

Looming ahead, filling only a fraction of the chamber, were two huge pyramids of oil drums, twenty feet across at the base and ten feet high. A third stack was just taking shape. Beyond the barrels, almost 180 degrees from the tunnel through which they had entered, was another, wider access, probably coming from the mine. A pale film of light, filtering in from somewhere deep in that tunnel, was what was backlighting the barrels.

They remained pressed against the chamber wall, still some distance from the barrels. Lewis switched on his flash, which was considerably more powerful than Matt's, and handed it over. The sight in front of them brought a knot of anger and sadness to Matt's chest. Many of the oil drums appeared to be in decent shape, but some of them were corroded. Several of those — six or seven that he could see from where they stood — had emptied onto the stone floor. Not ten yards behind the stacks, a broad stream was rippling through the cavern, headed in the general direction of the mine. It was impossible to believe the toxins weren't passing through major work areas, and from there into the environment.

"Son of a bitch," he murmured. "We'd best move quickly, Lewis, I have no idea what these fumes are doing to our lungs or brains."

"Ain't nothin' that kin mess my brain up more'n it already is," Lewis replied, punctuating the remark with a raspy laugh.

Matt slipped off his backpack, knelt down, and opened it. He removed his camera and took a half a dozen flash shots. Then he extracted a plastic bag with specimen collection bottles in it and took several tentative steps toward the barrels. He was about six feet away from them when floodlights mounted high on the walls snapped on, illuminating most of the cavern with midday brightness.

Matt caught a glimpse of gas masks and zip-up coveralls hanging from a rack nearby. Instinctively he dropped onto the damp floor just as two security men entered from the other tunnel. Their exact words were lost in the echoes of churning water, but he could tell they were laughing and joking. One of them keyed a security check box mounted on the rock wall.

Quickly, Matt scrambled on all fours toward Lewis, who was pressed back against the wall in a pocket of shadow.

"Hurry!" Lewis whispered urgently.

Moving as quickly as he dared, Matt was just a few feet from the shadows when one of the guards spotted him.

"Shit, Tommy, look! Over there!"

Matt could see the man drawing his gun.

"Run!" Lewis cried, already racing toward the tunnel.

Matt followed.

"Do you think we should just tell them who we are and that we don't want any trouble?" he asked as they ran.

"They ain't intrested in nothin' but makin' sure we don't leave this cave alive," Lewis answered. "Truss me on thet."

At that instant, gunfire erupted from behind them, and bullets ricocheted off the rocks.

"Jesus!" Matt cried, hunching down.

He had left his backpack and camera behind, but by sheer providence still held on to Lewis's flashlight. He passed the light to Lewis and, following the beam, they plunged into the gloom of the passageway.

Initially, Lewis moved with surprising speed and agility. Quickly, though, his age and years of smoking took hold. By the time they reached the first narrowing of the tunnel, he was gasping. Matt knew he could have moved much faster alone, but even if he had known the tunnels, there was no way he would have left the man behind. He cursed himself for impetuously putting them in such a spot. He could have waited, maybe tried to go to the authorities with the mysterious note.