Knight, E.E - Vampire Earth 10 - Appalachian Overthrow by Knight E.E

Author:Knight, E.E [Knight, E.E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2013-04-02T04:00:00+00:00

THE FIRST NOTES OF THE CRESCENDO

We had made it to the winter doldrums and I was now in my second year in the Coal Country. Looking back, I believe I was in a poor mood most of the time but could lose myself in the mindless physical labor at the coal face. I will say this: the constant physical strain toughened me even as it numbed my mind. I turned into the broad-shouldered Golden One of my youth. He looked at me from the mirror, a little less hair about the face and longer drop-whiskers.

Though I am ashamed to admit it, the mine office was pleased with me. The foreman, Bleecher, found me better-fitting safety equipment. Mr. Prapa, the director himself, a bracelet-favoring man with an out-of-season oily tan and all the appeal of dried chewing gum found sticking on a bus seat, rather gingerly called me into his office to ask me if there was a tribe of me up in the Pennsylvania hills, perhaps, that I could convince to come into the Coal Country to serve as laborers.

While sniffing through a bowl of fruit he offered me—fresh strawberries, in winter!—I glanced at a simple report; it seemed that every time I worked the coal face with the rest of a usual six-man crew, production went up twenty-five percent.*

I no longer had to produce money at Aym’s trailer.

I’d been playing the “helpful Grog” so long, I became him in a way. Ahn-Kha, who once roamed the Transmississippi as a fighter in a famous regiment, became just another scraping Grog, gently pawing at his masters as he waited for his next drink of flavored corn syrup.

I rarely dreamt of escape anymore, or if I did, I went at the coal face with a pickaxe as though digging a tunnel to freedom. I exhausted my brain into numbness. I fell into bed with grit still dug deep into my hair and awoke without expectation of anything more challenging than wondering if I should eat six eggs or a dozen for breakfast. I didn’t drink, gamble, or rent women on the weekends, so my wages, such as they were, mostly went to the little farmer stalls set up twice a week near the Number Four dormitory. While I enjoyed doing my own cooking, I usually gave a few dollars to one of the mine wives—whichever one caught my eye as the most ragged and careworn—to cook up my purchases for me. With the rest, on the advice of Olson, I set up a New Universal Church Community Investment account. That caused some confusion at the Church’s office, but we simplified matters by having Olson just set up a second account allowing me to draw on it. I trusted Olson, and it was better that I not have too much of a paper trail with the Church, in any case.

For me, life was simple. Work properly, get paid, keep the food supply fresh, and listen for the mine disaster klaxon.

No one made an

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