Whisper Hollow by Chris Cander

Author:Chris Cander [Cander, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-59051-712-3
Publisher: Other Press
Published: 2015-03-17T04:00:00+00:00

The mantrip carried them all in, Fossil up ahead, and darkness swallowed them whole. It was steadily cool underground, always around fifty-five degrees. The electric engine lit up the track only a few feet at a time and rumbled and rocked through the shafts of the mine, deeper and deeper into the dark. Their voices bounced oddly off the slick rock walls as they passed through.

It might seem logical that there would be silence underground, so far away from the cacophony and euphony of the surface world. But there was always an eerie jangle of noises. The hum of the enormous ventilation fan that pulled clean air from the main entrance through the working areas and diluted the odorless but dangerous buildup of methane gas. The heavy, clanging machinery that clawed out and scooped up and loaded the coal. Then there were the sounds of the mountain itself, what being inside the body of a very old man might be like: creaking joints and groaning shifts of position, something trying to get comfortable even while being methodically eviscerated in three eight-hour shifts every day.

Fossil stopped the mantrip at the power station to let Walter off. As the fire boss on this shift, he was responsible for running the electricity that charged the batteries and controlled the machinery, the lights, the phones. He took his jacket and dinner bucket and climbed off the car. “I’ll be up to do the track with you, just a minute here, after I power up,” Walter said to Abel and patted him on the shoulder. Abel nodded. The mantrip pulled away again, heading to the end of the line a dozen breaks away, where they would unload the equipment and begin the hard work that lay ahead.

In the distance behind him, Walter thought he could hear a voice above the underground din. A shout from somewhere, he couldn’t tell where. Then another. It sounded urgent, but indistinct, and traveled through the chambers and shafts of the section indirectly, one shout sounding vague and far away, the next as though the caller were no more than a few feet from him.

Walter turned around, trying to orient himself. “Who’s that?” he called.

“… got to get … don’t …” The voice traveled closer. The mountain yawned around them, its cavernous gullet grinding the speaker’s words.

“What?” Walter shouted back, spinning around again. “I can’t hear you!”

“… have to … come on!” It went faint again.

“What!” He heard running, but couldn’t tell from where it came. It must have been one of the guys on crew.

“… the switch!”

“All right!” He walked over to the lever that electrified the lights and machinery. Guys must be needing extra light to unload the equipment. Walter grabbed the throttle in his fist, then John appeared, wildness in his eyes, rushing toward him with his hands outstretched.

“No!” John yelled, lunging at Walter, who reacted by jerking the throttle into the upright position.

In an instant, there was a sense of all the air being sucked backward through the shaft, a holding of breath, a swell of something unspeakable.

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