Courtney Summers - Defy the Dark

Her hand slides down my forearm. I slowly rise. She reaches for the bouquet in my hands; the cellophane wrapping crinkles in response.

“Flowers,” she says as if it’s a prayer. “Like you have above.”

“Yes.”

She takes the bouquet, and for a moment, only the quiet crackling of the cellophane tells me where she is.

“They’re exactly like my mother told me about. Before she died.”

“Your mother is gone?” I ask. I hear the delicate sound of her touching the rose petals one by one.

“I barely knew her. She wasn’t like the rest of my family. She was like you.”

“A miner?”

“A human.” Ennor’s voice drops to a whisper. “I think it’s her blood that makes me sometimes wonder about the above.” She says “above” like it’s another world, and I suppose it is, just as much as the mine is another world to me.

There is a long silence.

“I’m sorry your father was trapped,” Ennor says. “I’m sorry people died on both sides.” She sounds tiny, fragile.

I exhale; it feels like someone has lifted something heavy off my chest. “I’m sorry, too. He’s gone now. He died two years ago.”

“How?”

“Black lung.” The name of the sickness always sounded like a pirate ship to me when I was little—back when I imagined the miners as magicians. The magicians and pirates battled over the coal, and in my games, the magicians always won. In real life, the pirates are the coal dust, years of it, building up and taking over until you can’t breathe. An ally turned murderer that spent eleven long years killing my father. I slide down the cavern wall to sit.

The cellophane crinkles; she’s growing closer—yet I still jump a little when she slides down next to me. She sighs, places her hand—wet from the bouquet—in mine. I feel her shifting and suddenly she’s leaning against my shoulder. Her hair spills down; I can just barely feel it through my work clothes. I want to touch it, I want to touch her face and imagine what the curves of her cheeks look like. She’d do it to me—she’s never afraid to touch me.

I wonder if it’s because she can see here, where I’m blind.

For weeks, things are better. Things are wonderful, even. Ennor and I share secrets, but we also play games, we make up stories, we are ridiculous and happy and I miss her when I’m gone. I miss someone I’ve never even seen, and I don’t care that that’s strange. I finish work in record time; I get more done in a day than I used to get done in a week because I want to spend every extra moment with her.

And for the first time, I don’t hate being a miner. Maybe being a miner is a fair price to pay for being with her.

“You seem to be in better spirits lately,” Roth tells me one morning, slapping me on the back as I pull my work clothes out of my locker. Both of us are already covered in a fine layer of coal dust, even though we haven’t been inside yet. It was the same way with my dad—I used to think it hid in his skin, coaxed out only with time, showers, and occasionally Vaseline to get it out of the corners of his eyes.

“I guess,” I say, shrugging and trying not to smile—it’ll only lead to more questions.

“Keep it up, whoever she is,” Roth says, eyes sparkling like diamonds in the middle of his dusty face. “She’s good for you. And she makes you a better miner, like your mama did for your daddy.”

Ah, so that’s why he’s looking at me so closely—like he’s trying to see underneath my skin. Trying to see if somewhere deep under there is the miner and the man my father was. The gold deep at the core. I still don’t think it’s there—in fact, spending time with Ennor has made me more certain than ever that my core is different. I look away, unable to take his eyes on mine any longer.

Roth sighs, then buckles his helmet. “It was a good mine. Took nice care of us. I always get a bit teary, seeing them go,” he says.

“Go?” I ask, freezing with my helmet half latched.

“The retreaters are knocking out the last few pillars today. We start the new mine tomorrow. It’s been on the calendar since the first of the month,” Roth says, eyebrows raised. “Did you not see it?”

“I guess I wasn’t paying attention,” I say, trying to control the panic in my voice. I have to warn Ennor. She could die. I take a step away, and my foot feels heavy, weight suddenly compounds on my shoulders.

If I tell her, she’ll tell her family. And they could bring the mine down on us. On me, on Roth, on the guys I graduated with. My hands shake as I inhale—there’s no weighing the possibilities in my mind, there’s only war, there’s only helplessness. I close my eyes. There’s no one who knows about her, no one who can tell me what to do, no one who can tell me which set of lives is more important.

Dad, I think as I listen to Roth humming an old mining tune. Help. What would you do?

As soon as I ask it, I know—so quickly that I wonder if the answer came from my father or my heart. Maybe it was both.

Igrab for Ennor’s hands when I enter the cavern—I know where they’ll be, though I can’t explain how.

“I came to warn you. They’re going to blow the mountain.”

Ennor doesn’t move; I wait for the sound of her breath to quicken in the darkness.

But there is nothing, there’s silence and the sound of her heart beating that I can somehow hear in the still. Or maybe it’s my heart—I can’t tell.

“Ennor? They’re closing the mine. They’re going to blow the mountain to get the rest of the coal. You and your family have to leave.”

“I heard you. We already knew. My family heard other miners talking. I came to warn you . They’re going to let the earth take them.”

Her words are soft, gentle even. She slides her hands from my palms up my forearms. At first I think she’s calm, but then I feel it—a slight, uneven tremble.

“How long do we have to get out?” I whisper.

“Not long.”

I nod, and I mean to turn and run back to Roth. Instead I stand still—this time it isn’t my feet weighing me down, it’s something deeper, something that slinks around my heart and lungs. I inch my arms forward and then wrap them around Ennor, gently at first, then harder, till I realize I’m clutching her and, even more surprising, she’s clutching me.

“Will I see you again?” I finally ask. I feel her chin tilt up and know she’s looking at me, but it doesn’t bother me anymore that I can’t see her eyes.

“I don’t know,” she answers. “I can’t stop being a Knocker, and you can’t stop being a miner.”

“You’re only half a Knocker,” I remind her. “Maybe you can leave.”

“You’re only half a miner,” she answers. “The rest of you belongs somewhere else.”

She steps back and we release each other; I stand staring into the black, knowing she’s watching me, certain that I see her despite the lack of light. “You’ve got to go,” she says, inhaling.

I’ve got to save the other miners, my father’s people. I focus on that, hold an image of my father in my head, think about him saving the others so long ago. I hope I’m like him.

I run out of the cavern, back toward Roth.

Ifly through the ballroom—some of the retreaters see me and try to call out, but I ignore them. Roth, I have to find Roth. He and the other miners are almost done removing equipment when I reach them. I don’t know what to say—I don’t know what to think, even. When I reach Roth, I choke on air but force words out despite the burning in my lungs.

“We have to get out,” I hack.

“What?” Roth asks, putting his hands on my shoulders and looking concerned.