Angel Smits - A Message for Julia

Everything inside Julia drained away. For an instant the world tilted sideways just a bit. She closed her eyes, shutting away her emotions. No. No. She heard a thud, then a metallic rolling sound in the distance as she dropped the unopened soda.

This wasn’t possible.

They’d been through the disaster drills dozens of times. Just because she received a call didn’t mean a thing. Everyone was called and until all the families were there, no one would know who was getting the bad news.

Company policy. Long-standing practice. Damned frightening reality.

She fought not to panic but knew the turmoil in her stomach was just that. She didn’t remember hanging up the phone, but it was back in its normal place. Had the man even really called? Was this a dream? Please wake me up.

What if…? Her knees nearly buckled. Where was Linc? She stared at the kitchen. What had she been doing?

Through the pounding in her ears, she heard the crunch of tires on the drive. Julia looked out the window, hoping, praying that it was Linc’s truck. She’d give him an earful for scaring her half to death.

No such luck. A patrol car pulled in behind her sedan. She watched as the two officers climbed out. They didn’t even have to knock as she met them at the door.

“Hello, Julia.”

“Hello, Hank.” Their next-door neighbor was a good man, always waving and smiling. He and Linc often stood out back and talked about guy stuff—fishing, football and lawn-mower parts. The other officer looked familiar, but for the life of her she couldn’t think of a name.

“I thought you might need a ride,” Hank said. He didn’t bother to explain. Her face probably told him more than even she knew she was thinking and feeling.

“I think I can drive.” She doubted she’d even remember how to start the engine.

“I’ll drive your car so you’ve got wheels to come back home when you need to.” Hank nodded toward the other officer. “Dennis will follow in the squad car.”

She nodded. On autopilot, she grabbed her purse and keys and closed the door. Settled in the passenger seat, she looked back at the house as Hank climbed behind the wheel of her half-loaded car. It looked the same as it had just a few minutes ago—just as it had when she’d driven away on Friday, leaving Linc and it behind—and yet everything was different.

She was different. Numbness took over. Numb was good.

Thursday Afternoon, Two Hours Underground

THE ONLY PERSON WHO SEEMED capable of movement was the kid. Ryan moved about, trying to help Casey settle more comfortably on the hard stone floor.

The rest of them sat silently, watching the dust motes dance in the beam of their lights.

Linc had been through dozens of disaster drills. As a mine inspector, he’d set up several, coordinating with all the necessary teams: Search and Rescue, Fire, Emergency Medical Services and even Navy Dive teams for mine flooding. He’d coordinated, instructed, observed and participated. He knew the risks of mine work.

But he’d never faced the real thing. He swallowed the lump of panic in his throat.

“What the hell happened?” Linc growled softly, afraid that any noise would bring the rest of the roof down on their heads.

Gabe answered first. “That’s a good question.”

“We hit something too hard to be normal.” Robert spoke from the darkness. He’d turned his lamp off. “Sounded like a rock bolt to me, but it should have been another six feet to the left. And we weren’t cuttin’ that high.”

“Look.” Gabe pulled the guide map he’d picked up in his assignment box before the shift. He handed the frequently folded and now grubby map over to Linc.

Pulling the light off his hard hat, Linc studied it. Taken from a larger map, probably one the owners had purchased from the Bureau of Land Management, it was worn in several places. He noted the marks that indicated the rock bolts’ position. The eight-foot-long bolts that were drilled into the rock to stabilize the roof were normally six feet apart.

He stood and paced off the perimeter. Then he figured the distance again. Gabe watched him carefully. He could feel the older man’s gaze drilling into his back.

He knew that Gabe was the kind of man who’d take the responsibility for whatever went wrong. But Linc’s gut was telling him this wasn’t the crew’s fault.

“Gabe, look here,” he said.

The crew chief’s footsteps came up behind him. “What?”

“See this outcropping?” Linc pointed to the rock and then the map. “There’s supposed to be two rock bolts between here and there.” He pointed to another mark on the map.

“Yeah. We must have cut the one.” Gabe jabbed the map with a grubby finger.

“No. We were at least six feet from there, like Robert said. And even if we cut that one—where’s the second?”

They looked at each other. Gabe paced off a few more feet, stopping at the edge of the slide. He shone his light up and stared as Linc watched his eyes widen. Linc moved over to stand beside Gabe and looked up.

There in the circle of the lamplight was a dark hole. Where the ceiling bolt was supposed to be was nothing. No sign of any bolt. Anywhere.

The hair on the back of Linc’s neck tingled. All the reasons he’d become a mine inspector came clearly to mind.

Acts of God or Mother Nature were one thing.

The hand of man was something altogether different.

Thursday Afternoon, 4:30 p.m.

HANK DROPPED JULIA OFF at the family staging area at the high school. It was in the same gym where she’d just attended a pep rally.

She walked through the familiar doors and looked around. The bleachers were full, but the laughing, smiling high-school students had been replaced by the sad, worried faces of miners’ families. Some of those same kids were here again, their smiles erased by fear.

The only sounds in the room were those of restless bodies, tense whispers and her footsteps as she crossed to the bleachers. Her heels were entirely too loud on the polished wood floor.

She settled on the end of a bench, a bit away from the crowd, and wrapped her arms around her waist. She needed to hold herself together.

No one had said a thing yet. There was no word as to exactly who was in the trapped crew. This wasn’t one of those times where no news was good news.

Voices came from everywhere around her. Soft, hushed voices. Wobbly, worried voices. Broken, pained voices. As a teacher, Julia had learned to eavesdrop in order to stay a step ahead of her students. Turning that skill off now was impossible. The fear and apprehension were alive and dark here in the room with her.

Sitting on the edge of the hard seat, she tried to hang on to her sanity. It wasn’t easy. She looked around and the anguish she saw in the other faces cut through her. She couldn’t look at them. It hurt too much to see their pain.

What was she doing here? she asked herself. She’d left him, ended their life together. She didn’t owe Linc anything.

With a quick glance around the crowd, Julia felt a trace of guilt. No one knew the truth about their marriage because they hadn’t told anyone. If she hadn’t come, what would they think of her? Of Linc?

If he was dead—

She shuddered. Linc. She repeated his name in her head, praying that somehow that could make him appear before her. For the first time in days, she closed her eyes and pictured his face. Not the face that had been lined with anger and red with rage as he argued with her. Not the face of the man who silently drank his coffee each morning before work and barely spoke to her. Not the face of the man who strode from the house the other night.

She saw the boy she’d had a crush on all through high school. The boy she’d stayed up late with cramming for finals in college. The man whose face shone in completion as he made love to her.