Lindsay McKenna - Solitaire

Slade wasn’t one to pray often, not that he didn’t believe in God, but he more or less used Him in emergencies only. Well, this was an emergency, and as he pressed the radio’s On button once again, he prayed that Cat would hear him this time.

“Cat? Cat Kincaid, can you hear me? This is Slade Donovan. If you can hear me, depress the handset. Show me you’re alive. Over.”

The constant static of the portable radio now lodged between her rib cage and the wall of rocks slowly brought Cat back to consciousness. Blood trickled from her nose and down her lips. She tried to lick them, but her tongue met a thick caking of dust. Suddenly a sharp, riveting pain brought her fully conscious; it felt as if her right side were on fire. Dully, Cat tried to take stock of herself. She was buried up to her thighs in rubble. The weak light from her helmet lay to the left, barely visible through the curtain of dust that hung in the chamber.

The radio static continued, and dazedly Cat reached into her jacket. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. Dizziness washed over her and she knew that she was injured. How badly she didn’t know. Not yet. And maybe never. She had no idea how large or small was the chamber where she was buried. If it was too small, and there wasn’t sufficient oxygen, she would die of suffocation sooner, rather than later. If she was lucky, oxygen might be trickling through the walls blocking her escape, and she wouldn’t suffocate.

Her fingers closed over the radio. Twisting slightly, she pulled it out of her jacket. A gasp tore from her and a tidal wave of pain caused her to black out for several seconds. When she came to, she took light, shallow breaths of the murky air. To breathe deep meant suffering a knifelike pain ripping up her right side. Busted ribs, she thought, slowly pulling the radio out of the jacket.

The light from her hard hat was slowly dimming, but she focused on first things first: the radio. Would it work? Was Donovan still out there? Her hand trembled badly as she fumbled to turn the radio on. The red light blinked on, and a rough, scratchy noise greeted her. Finally, she fine-tuned it with the other dial.

Her fingers, now bruised and bloodied, slipped on the button she hoped would link her with the outside world. Cat depressed it and tried to speak, but the only sound that came from her throat was a low croak. If only she could have some water! She could hear it all around her, the same rushing sound as before. Had that wall collapsed behind her where the limestone had cracked and separated?

“D-Donovan…” Her voice was barely a hoarse whisper. Dust clogged her throat and she wanted to cough, but didn’t dare for fear of disturbing her broken ribs. Then the radio crackled and an incredible surge of relief flowed through her as she heard Donovan’s Texas baritone come scratchily over the handset.

“Cat! I can barely hear you. Give me a report on your condition.”

“I–I’m trapped between a double cave-in. My legs are under rubble, but if I can move off my belly, I can free myself. Chamber is–dust too thick to tell how small or large it is yet.”

“Injuries?”

“Right lung hurts…can’t breathe very well. Legs are numb but I think if I get the rocks off, they’ll be okay.”

Terror leaked through Slade’s voice. “Head injury?”

Cat had to wait a minute to assess herself. She slowly raised her hand, feeling her dust-laden hair, and met warm stickiness as she felt across her scalp. Her head was throbbing as if it might split into a hundred pieces, like the limestone around her. “Maybe a mild concussion. Dizzy–”

“Oxygen?”

“Let me radio back. Got to try and reach my hard hat.”

“All right, just take it easy. We’re going to get you out of there. Just hang on. Graham’s phoned for help. We expect miners and excavation equipment within the next hour. Get back to me on the size of the place you’re trapped in. Over.”

Just the reassuring sound of Slade’s voice kept her panic from exploding. There was something about him that instilled faith in his promise to get her out of there. Gently, Cat set down the radio. What she would do for some water now! Dizziness came and went and Cat felt nausea clawing up her throat–she had all the symptoms of a concussion. Stretching her left hand out, fingers extended, she reached for her hard hat. There! Her fingers closed over the hat and she pulled it back to her.

As the dust slowly settled around her, Cat got an idea of the chamber’s size. Rocks ranging from the size of her fist to huge sheets that easily weighed half a ton were lodged all around her. She had been lucky: if she had not tripped and fallen where she now lay, a sheet of limestone nearby would have sheared right through her. She’d be dead. The drenching reality washed through her and she closed her eyes, exhausted. I shouldn’t be tired. Got to get these rocks off my legs and move around. Maybe I can find some water… Then drowsiness overwhelmed her.

Slade paced back and forth in front of the mine like an infuriated lion. He gripped the radio tightly in his fist. The rain was continuing to fall at a steady rate; the sky had become a dismal gray. Angrily, he shook off the thought and the feeling. Cat was alive, and that was all that mattered. No one should die alone in that godforsaken place. He wanted to vent his anger on Graham, who sat in his silver Mercedes looking pasty from the turn of events. The frightened mine owner had gone to extraordinary measures to call in local workers who had once toiled in the worthless mine, and to order heavy equipment from a nearby town. The local fire department would arrive shortly with oxygen tanks, masks and rescue apparatus. As soon as they came, Slade was going to borrow a tank and mask and make his way down the shaft to locate Cat’s chamber. He halted. Cat should have called in by now.

Slade called her five times and there was no answer. Was Cat unconscious? Had she died because of oxygen deprivation? Torn between staying and going deeper, he stared down the black maw of the shaft. Maybe her radio was on the blink. He tried to ignore his memory of the slur of Cat’s words and the pain he’d heard with each breath she had taken. He had a gut feeling she was in a lot more serious condition than she was revealing.

He called again. This time, he got an answer. “Cat, how are you?”

“Uhh, dizzy. Sorry, didn’t mean to black out.”

Slade’s mouth thinned, his eyes reflecting his anxiety, but he kept it out of his voice as he depressed the On button. “You’re doing fine. Did you get a look at the chamber?”

“Twenty feet long and ten feet wide. The manging wall is holding. I’m under a stull that’s stopping it from falling on top of me.”

Relief flowed through him. “Great. Any indication of air supply?”

“Dust still too thick. I’m turning off my light to conserve it. Need water worse.”

“I know. Look, you just rest.”

“C-can’t. Got to try and get rocks off legs.”

Slade nodded. “The fire department is coming with oxygen gear. As soon as they arrive, I’m going to find you, Cat. For now, just conserve your energy.”

She knew Slade was right, but she was shivering from the overwhelming dampness around her. As dry as her mouth and throat were, the moisture was seeping through to her bones. She shut off the light and slowly began to remove one rock at a time from the back of her legs. Only her left hand was undamaged. Movement of her right arm sent such a spasm of pain up Cat’s side that she lost consciousness.

Cat was used to darkness; when she constructed a mine shaft, she was constantly in the darkened earth with only a safety lamp and lighted hard hat to illuminate her way. But rarely had she gone without any light at all, and now the dark was as suffocating as the dust that hung around her. A shiver rippled through her, the darkness like fingers of fear closing around her throat. Cat tasted her panic and concentrated on removing the rocks from her thigh, gradually releasing herself from the entrapment.