Harry Shannon: Kill Them All

The Dead Man 6

Copyright © 2011 by Adventures In Television, Inc.

Near Dry Wells, Nevada

Friday, 8:12 a.m.

“Help! Over here!”

Matt Cahill shaded his eyes. Even this early in the morning the fierce Nevada sunshine slammed down like a giant metal press. The desert was flat and freckled with flat rocks. Clumps of blue sage sprouted here and there, tiny flowers open and gasping with thirst. Matt had jumped off a flatbed truck when the driver turned east, figuring he’d easily catch another ride, but no one had passed this way in more than an hour. He’d started walking and was completely lost. Now he wondered if he was also hearing things.

“Help!”

A male voice? Then Matt spotted the boy, who was jumping up and down, waving frantically. He also saw a shirtless, sunburned man in overalls nearby, walking in circles. He took in the two racing bicycles resting against the side of what appeared to be an old, boarded-up mine located on some scruffy ranch property. Matt dropped his backpack, his grandfather’s ax, and his worn bedroll and sprinted in that direction.

He jogged past a sign that read “Kearns Property Leave Shit Here,” and as he got closer to the boy, the situation clarified itself. The redneck man was shouting and cursing, delusional or completely drugged out. He had some mining tools and bottles of water, ropes and a few sample sacks. Perhaps he’d been prospecting in the mine when something collapsed. The two bikes were top-of-the-line, the kind used for long distances.

One of the riders was missing.

Panting, Matt arrived at the spot. The boy, a thin kid with freckles, wasn’t as young as Matt had first thought, maybe late teens. He had been crying. “She’s down there, my kid sister is down there. Do you have a cell phone, mister? I called our dad for help, but mine just up and died. I’m not even sure he heard me.”

Matt shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t. What happened?”

The boy said, “We were daring each other, just screwing around. My kid sister went down in there as a joke and something collapsed. Now I can hear her calling for help, but there’s no way down.”

“No way down?” Matt looked at the miner, a wreck of a human with missing teeth. “How do you get down in there, friend?”

The man screamed and batted at his own clothing. Speed freak, maybe. He looked useless. Spit flew from his mouth.

The kid said, “I tried to crawl in, but it’s straight down-something fell apart. This old bastard won’t tell me what to do.”

Matt stepped closer and looked into the mine shaft. The kid was right: behind the ring of rocks, everything just dropped away, but he heard the girl calling for help. Matt stepped back, evaluating. The miner had a lot of equipment, much of it modern. He’d clearly been down below many times. There were small cutting tools, extra-strength ropes, and a pair of night-vision goggles. The guy was just too stoned to help. Matt walked closer, but the miner grabbed a claw hammer and threatened him.

“Easy, old-timer. Are you Mr. Kearns? Look, I just need to borrow some of your gear,” Matt said.

“The fuck back!” Kearns bellowed as he swung the hammer at Matt’s head. Matt stepped inside the blow, knocked it up and away with his left hand, and punched twice, once over the heart and once in the side of the neck. Kearns sank to his knees, red faced and retching.

“Stand back. What’s your name?” Matt said to the freckle-faced kid.

“Jeb Pickens.”

“Jeb, you keep an eye on that crazy son of a bitch. If you have to, hit him in the balls with something.”

Matt Cahill grabbed some rope and a bottle of water from the miner’s stash. He examined the night-vision goggles, which seemed easy enough to work, so he took them, too. He moved quickly to the mine entrance. Here goes…

Matt secured the rope to a boulder near the entrance, then lowered himself into the cool, dark mine. The air thickened…small things scuttled away…a rattler stirred and expressed annoyance. Matt tried to move slowly and deliberately. The movements weren’t that foreign to him and his strong arms supported him-he’d climbed up and down hundreds of trees as a lumberjack. Working with one rope wasn’t all that different. As he descended into the shaft, the sunlight shrank above him and his eyesight gradually failed.

“I’m coming down,” Matt called. “Try to step back out of the way.”

“Okay.” A female voice. Below him, close now.

Matt paused for a moment, slipping the goggles on and experimenting. After a few seconds he found the right switches and the gear clicked on. The world turned green and black, images distorted and weirdly flowing, but he could see. As Matt continued to lower himself, hand over hand, he looked down.

She stood at the bottom of the trench and to one side, a teenage girl in denim shorts and a loose men’s T-shirt. She carried herself well, seeming more scared than injured. That was good, because Matt had to help her climb back out. He dropped down next to her, assessing her expression. Her eyes glowed strangely in the infrared light. He’d almost forgotten that she couldn’t see a thing. He touched her arm and she jumped.

“Are you thirsty?”

She nodded, so he opened the water bottle and fed her a few sips, then drank some himself. It was warm but delicious.

“My name is Matt Cahill,” he said. “What’s yours?”

“Suzie.”

“Well, Suzie, I’m going to lead you to a rope. Can you climb?”

She nodded in the dark. “Just get me out of here. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.”

“Take my gloves,” Matt said. “They’ll help you get back up.” He took Suzie’s hands gently, helped her tug on the work gloves. Then he led her to the rope, almost banging her head with the long nose of the NV goggles. Strange contraption, but remarkably effective. Matt thought, No wonder our soldiers have such an advantage in combat.

The girl found the rope, and Matt guided her feet to the first footholds. Looking up, he described the climb as best he could, put his hands on her waist and gave her a good start up the wall, then stepped back.

“Just keep going, Suzie. You’ll see the sunlight soon. If you have to stop and rest, take your time. I’ve got some gear on. I can see okay down here.”

Matt decided not to tell her he wasn’t fond of creepy crawlies.

Eventually the girl reached the top-Matt could hear the boy screaming for joy. After testing the rope, Matt began to climb back up. Without the gloves, the rope cut deeply into his hands, but they were calloused from years of physical labor. He kept his eyes on the rock face, just to make sure nothing slimy or furry was planning a sudden assault. Boards and rock groaned and moaned around him, and suddenly the walls began closing in-Matt felt claustrophobic. He wanted to get the hell out of there before something else collapsed. He was born for the mountains, not for a dark cave in the desert.

As he reached the top, the world went white. Suddenly Matt couldn’t see.

He cursed, almost let go of the rope. He’d forgotten to turn off the goggles, and the sudden appearance of sunlight as he reached ground level momentarily blinded him. Matt found foot purchase in the rock, let the NV goggles dangle around his neck, and blinked feverishly, then kept his eyes closed for a while, his muscles trembling. White spots gradually turned dark again, and Matt opened his eyes. His vision had returned to normal. Satisfied, he climbed the rest of the way out and rolled into the hot sand, relieved and panting.