Devon Monk - Cold Copper

A movement near the door of the mine caught his eye. A boy in cap and short pants stood there, looking at Cedar.

And then, as Cedar watched, the boy faded from sight.

The wind snagged across low bushes, pushing against his back, then scattering down the hill. In the wind was the sound of crying. Only it wasn’t the weeping of the Strange, it was the weeping of children.

Could be a Strange trick to lure him into the mine. Could be a ghost.

But then the faces of children, many more, appeared in the slim wedge of darkness beyond the mine’s entrance.

These didn’t fade away.

“Seems like we have ourselves an invitation,” Cedar said. “Let’s see what it brings us.”

He urged his horse on, Wil pacing him. It didn’t make sense that the children would be stolen and locked up to work the copper mine. The mine wasn’t far enough outside town for people not to look here, for people not to search for their children here.

Surely, this mine had been searched.

Cedar rode across the flat field toward the mine and came upon it at a trot. As he neared, he saw bits of brush and rocks and snow, tangled up like whirlwinds. Wil growled, as if he saw Strange in those gusts of debris. Cedar studied the whirlwinds and saw nothing but sticks and snow.

“It’s fine,” he said to Wil. “No Strange there.”

Wil growled softly in disagreement.

Cedar dismounted with care so as not to trigger any more aches and pains that seemed only to be getting worse.

He led his horse the remaining distance to the mine and tied the reins on a hitching post.

Wil was still snarling at the wind. Cedar looked around again, but saw nothing.

“There is nothing in the air, Wil,” he said. “Calm yourself.” He pulled a lantern off the saddle, and lit it with a striker from his pocket.

The side of his neck stung, and Cedar pressed his fingers there.

Wil growled louder.

And Cedar finally knew why. A ghostly Strange stood at the mine entrance with eyes made of cold copper. “Please… ,” it breathed, in a voice made of bits of wind scratching though leaves and stone and ice. “Help…”

He had seen this Strange before. In the bedroom, on the road outside the church. He was sure it was the same creature that had bit him.

And then it disappeared, torn apart by the wind that scattered him with a hailstorm of snow, branches, and dirt.

Wil snarled and paced the area, scenting for the Strange, but came quickly back to Cedar, ears up, and no indication that he had found a trail.

Why would the Strange ask him for help? Twice now. Cedar pulled his gun and walked up to the mine’s entrance. A dozen or so small stones had been positioned in a straight line across the entrance to the mine, but there was nothing else impeding his progress.

There were no children in the doorway. Wil slipped past Cedar, head low, and entered the mine. Cedar followed behind.

The mine was braced by iron girders that jutted up from the walls and crossed over the ceiling like scaffolding constructed around a tower. The ground beneath him slanted downward and was fitted with a rail. To either side were metal staircases, bolted into the stone walls.

He made his way down into the mine, looking for any sign of the children who had been in the doorway.

Usually stealth was his best option, but if the children were here, hiding, then he’d need to convince them to show themselves.

“Hello,” he said just loud enough to be heard. The stone and metal seemed to swallow his words, and the deeper he descended into the mine, the more it felt like his ears were stuffed with wool.

“Is there anyone here? I’ve come to help you. If you’re lost, I can take you home. There’s no need to be afraid.”

Nothing moved. There was no wind in this hole, just the damp smell of stone and wet metal and the dusty arc of dirt all around him.

“I can help you,” Cedar said.

The hush of something scraping over stones scratched in the shadows ahead. Something was moving down here. Cedar lifted the lantern higher and held his gun at the ready. He strode toward the sound.

The mine shaft took a hard right toward town. The tunnel narrowed, and metal bracers, which now also supported thick copper wires, closed in around his head and shoulders. Wil padded softly in front of Cedar, silent as darkness.

Another scratch, almost a buzzing, rattled through the tunnel.

Cedar’s heart was pounding. It was harder to breathe here, though Wil didn’t seem to be having any trouble.

The tunnel was tight and near-impossible to fight in. If someone ahead had a gun and saw him coming before he saw them, he’d be dead. He considered dampening the lantern, but hated the idea of wandering these tunnels blind.

There was a side tunnel to his left. He lifted the lantern, but could see nothing but a stone tunnel supported by wood bracers marching downward. The sound had come from ahead, not to the left.

Wil paused at the edge of the lantern light, head up, nose scenting the air.

Cedar walked up behind him. The tunnel split left and right, a rail line set smoothly down both paths. The scratching was coming from the right.

Cedar and Wil turned that way. Here the stone was no longer just brown and charcoal black. Spidery thin lines of blue and white spread down the wall and arced across the ceiling like lightning caught in stone.

Copper. A much richer vein of it than he’d expected.

At the end of the tunnel was a steel door. It stood ajar and the slight scratching came from beyond it.

Someone or something wanted him to go in there. Someone or something had been leading him this whole way.

It could be a trap. But who would go through this much trouble to try to lure him out here?

Cedar pressed his fingertips on the edge of the door. He gasped as the song of the Strange filled him, and with the song, their sorrow.

Cedar let go of the door and lifted the lantern.

The room beyond the door was massive. Easily two stories tall, it was a wide, smooth chamber that looked like it had been carved out with water and then polished down to a smooth sheen.

Lantern light caught a surreal turquoise glow from the walls and ceiling and floor. The entire room was the center of a massive copper vein. Cedar felt like he’d just stepped into the heart of an ocean-colored jewel.

But it was not just the stunningly rich deposit of copper that made him catch his breath in wonder; it was the huge iron and copper devices that filled the center of the room.

Five tanks stood at one side, wires connected to the top of each and spreading outward. Those wires also connected to a boiler and an alternator that were both taller than Cedar. And in the center of all those wires and connecting pipes was a transformer made of metal and wood and thick blown glass.

The room was noticeably damp and warm, which meant the boiler was still hot, and the device had recently been in use. The scratching sound could have come from the boiler cooling.

Cedar walked around the contraptions. They were built to power something, maybe to send an electric pulse of some kind down the copper wires hammered over the walls and ceiling like a net thrown across a blue wave.

The scratching hiss crackled down one of the wires, perhaps latent energy bleeding away into the walls.

Cedar walked over to one wall and touched the copper wire with his palm.

No heat, it was just the opposite. The metal was so cold, it drank the heat out of his skin. He pulled his hand away and could make out red lines left behind from the wire. Cold copper. What kind of energy could it carry, a metal that heated so slowly? What kind of power could it drink down?

Wil had made his own search of the room and came to stand next to Cedar.