A draft of my novel, Fossil. This is chapter 1. Several final revisions are needed.
The Gauley River pulsed within the heart of Appalachia. Its dangerous waters sped down the mountainside and crashed against shallow riverbeds and large rocks. The turbulence created a white foam that covered the river’s surface. A steady roar echoed between the mountains. The air along the bank smelled of silt. Many of these marvelous waterways cut through West Virginia. Most were a mystery, not yet documented on maps or seen with human eyes. But on this day in the spring of 1962, the mysteries of the Gauley would be uncovered.
Kody joined the crowd in applause when a Ford station wagon packed with gear drove off Route Thirty-Nine and slid to a stop at the river’s edge.
Four people emerged from the car and waved briefly to the large crowd. Two of the people had grey hair and wrinkles. The other two were young. Despite their age difference, they moved with the same eagerness.
The newspaper offered details about the group planning an expedition into the most dangerous areas of Appalachia. They would accomplish this feat on four rafts.
An air compressor was removed from the trunk and set behind the passenger side rear wheel. They jacked up the car and ran a belt from the back axle to the air compressor.
Four bundled rafts were removed from the roof cargo carrier. A hose connected the first raft to the air compressor.
“Start her up, Jane,” the old man said to the old woman.
She slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the starter. The engine came to life with a brief puff of smoke. The engine sounded rough, but it soon settled into a lumpy idle. The pulley spun and the air compressor sucked in the early morning air.
With the rafts inflating, the remaining contents held within the Ford were divided and moved next to each raft.
Kody admired how the four people cursed and laughed as they worked. He wondered how they knew what tasks needed doing first and how they kept track of everything without pen and paper. It looked to him like play, but grownups never played.
Dad went about his work with what looked like tiredness and frustration to Kody. Dad always seemed somewhat happy before leaving in the morning, but he returned home in a sour mood. Joints aching, muscles tired, and head throbbing, he collapsed over the wash basin in the backyard and washed until all of the black dust came off. The black dust never truly left. You could always find a smudge here or there, even after soaking in boiling water and rubbing your skin raw. Not to mention when the black dust clogged up your lungs. There was no soap for things that got inside.
Whether you worked the mine, cut down trees, slaughtered pigs, stamped steel, or did odd jobs, you worked to survive and came home worse off than when you set off in the morning. Each day you got older, achier, and often sicker.
Kody wanted to get in close and learn everything about them. He wanted to learn how to be like them when he grew up.
Mary stopped him. “You can’t go down there,” she said. Mary was the twin of Adam. Ms. [Teacher] always tasked Mary with sounding the alarm when anyone broke the rules. Mary was no teacher’s pet, but she still held that rules made by adults were created with some good sense and aught be followed by young kids.
Kody looked over her shoulder and spotted [teacher], who was turned away and talking to someone he did not recognize.
“I’m not going to touch anything,” he said.
She shot him a warning glare before she went back to talking with Alba and Shirley. What was the point of following a rule if it could not be enforced?
He approached the rafts cautiously. The one being inflated had grown to an imposing size. It had swelled and stretched to nearly the length of the Ford.
“I think it is going to pop,” Kody yelled over the car engine and compressor sound.
The old man heard Kody and came over to inspect the raft. “We are incredibly close, young man,” the old man said. “Name is Sayre Rodman.” Sayre’s wrinkled hand took Kody’s smaller hand and shook it emphatically.
“Kody Burnham,” Kody responded. Getting his hand back, he asked, “how much larger does it get?”
“Six feet wide by twelve feet long and just about as tall as you are now,” Sayre said. “These were air force rafts. Designed for six people to launch into the ocean. They saw combat along the European front during World War II.”
Kody ran around the raft and looked for signs of scorch marks, bullet holes, or blood stains.
Sayre chuckled, “nothing so incredible.” Noticing the raft had reached the correct PSI, he turned a valve on the raft. The hose popped off with a sharp hiss of air. He stepped on the hose to keep it from whipping around, then attached it to the next raft.
While Sayre worked on repeating the process, Kody looked inside ked of the inflated raft. It was empty.
“Watch yourself,” Sayre said. He brought over two cinder blocks roped together and dropped them inside the raft.
“What are those for?” Kody asked.
“That’s a clever thing,” Sayre said. “These rafts were designed for oceans and a full load. Not rapids and a single soul. They get airborne easily, but you don’t have to worry about them capsizing or taking on water. But they don’t turn very well. We add the weight to the front to keep the nose down, and you can heft it to one side or the other to change direction.”
“Do you stand in it?” Kody asked.
“Ah, good question.” Sayre retrieved a wooden plank and set it in the middle of the raft. “See how it sits in those grooves?” He lifted Kody into the raft and sat him on the plank.
“We sit where you are now,” Sayre continued. “Then we hold the oars through these oarlocks.” He found two oars and installed them.
Kody used his entire body to lift on in the air, but it swung uncontrollably, almost hitting Sayre.
“You got a few more years until you can handle them well. When strong enough, you will use the oars to steer or slow down. You never create power. Gravity is your engine. Most importantly, you must stay off the rocks. It’s like being a Spitfire pilot, dogfighting between mountain peaks to avoid anti-aircraft fire.” His hand took on the motion of flying a plane and made whooshing noises, then he mimed a missile strike that took down the plane.
“Don’t fool with the boy,” the old woman came over to see what had been distracting Sayre. “It’s a life raft from an airplane used during emergency landings. You won’t be storming any European beaches with it. Now help me with this equipment.”
Sayre leaned in close to Kody. “My misses, Jane. Hell of an adventurer, but no imagination. We got it, right?” Sayre tapped Kody’s head with a wink and a smile.
“Yes, sir,” Kody enjoyed having brains equal to Sayre’s. Sitting in the raft presented infinite possibilities. There were rivers all around the world, and he could see all of them with a raft like this one.
Sayre and Jane returned to work, helping to sort supplies and inflate the next two rafts. The process was laborious, but they made quick progress. Kody wanted to get Sayre’s attention to ask more questions but thought better of it. Just as he was ready to climb out of the raft, a journalist came through the crowd.
“Mr. Rodman,” the journalist called out earnestly. He was riding a rusty and dented bicycle. People leaped out of the way, cursing as he went by. The bike slid to a stop next to the raft. The bike fell over and the man raced up to Sayre. He clutched his notepad and pen in sweaty hands. He was obviously running late. His cheeks were red and his pits were wet.
“I’m so glad I caught you before you left,” the man announced between breaths.
“Catch your breath,” Sayre said. He patted the man hard on the back. “Come sit here.” He motioned for the journalist to the open hatch of the Ford.
“My name is Jerry Bright with the Richwood Journal. We spoke during your last attempt down this very river. Do you have a moment?”
“I don’t remember you. But ask anything.” Before starting the interview, he turned to Jane, “Let the boy here help with whatever is left.”
Jane motioned Kody over to her, but Kody didn’t want to leave Sayre’s side. He was already so taken by the old man and desired to learn more about him and his adventures. Jane did not press, instead letting him enjoy the moment.
Jerry began the interview by pointing out the size of the crowd. “You have drawn more than a hundred people along the Gauley River. I see friends from Richwood, Summersville, and even a few from Fossil. Two years ago, I reported on your first attempted journey down these difficult waters. You failed then. Can you tell us why you have returned and what is different?”
The question sounded like an insult, but Sayre did not seem to mind. He stood in quiet contemplation. Then his response flowed easily.
“That was October first or second, in fifty-nine. We had a different group. We had been named the Whitewater Pioneers. I remember heavy rains. The water was above our heads where we stand right now. The current carried trees, cars, and homes. We had to go in at the bridge on Route Thirty-Nine. Not a minute into our journey, we hit the strongest rapids we had ever encountered. Sent us into the trees across the river, in the trees there – perhaps it was a little way back.” He scanned the riverbank on the other side, seemed to lose himself in memory, then came back to the moment.
“We were stuck,” he continued. “We roped between the trees to create a line to get out and onto higher ground. We worked for hours and exhausted ourselves. We had no escape. But we continued. We soon came to a rise in the land. A man had built his house there. It was the perfect elevation to not be washed out. He fed us and gave us a warm place to sleep.”
Jerry interrupted, his pen still scribbling in his notebook, “but you tried the next day again and still failed.”
“You’re right.” Sayre went on, “the rains were slowing, but the river seemed to have sped up. We considered calling it off. Then the man who saved us came out onto his porch and talked bitterly about the Gauley. He called it a beautiful river. Said it should remain untouched. But state officials were working to build a hydroelectric plant. That would raise the water level to the road just behind us – maybe 50 feet. Downstream, there would be nothing but a slow trickle. We knew we had to run the river before we lost the chance. Merry on our arrogance, we went out at first light. Not ten feet off the porch, one of our guys had his raft come up over his head. He nearly drowned. The river didn’t want us. It was a terrible end to a journey we had hardly even begun.”
“You hope to be vindicated today?” Jerry asked.
“It has been two years. We thought the dam would be built already, but the government can’t do anything right. Lucky for us.”
“The river is calm today,” Jerry noted. “What does this peaceful morning mean for your run?”
“I talked with our group. Mostly I listen to Jane, my wife. For me, it’s today or never. Regardless of what happens, we’ll find our way down. We might reach the bottom with some bruises and lost equipment, but we will not fail.”
Kody delighted in the image of so much bravery. He wondered what wonders would be found at the end of the Gauley River and deep into lands nobody had ever explored.
“One last item for your wife.” Jerry asked Jane, “Anything you would like to add? Are you feeling as confident as your husband?”
She looked with admiration at the Gauley River. “It is impressive, isn’t it? Running smoothly and carving soft valleys through the mountain range. We’ll be descending hundreds of feet at a great speed.”
Jerry interrupted, “some people see this as a dangerous stunt. Do you agree with them?”
“Many people refuse to live. We show what is possible and experience what others will not. The people here and elsewhere will read our story. In time, they might say they would have loved to have followed. The danger is missing your opportunity, don’t you agree?”
Jerry stood there quietly, unsure of what direction he should rock his head.
“Ah, well,” Jane continued, “my answer is there is no danger. The rapids are quite good today. Do you hear it?”
Kody held his lungs and listened. He only heard the rush of water, a light wind, and birds in the distance.
“Ma’am?” Jerry looked at Jane, his pen not moving.
“The rumble-rumble thump sound mixed with a throaty roar,” she explained. She turned to face the river and opened her arms, her face catching the sun. “Some cannot sense it because they choose not to hear nature.”
“The river speaks to you?” Jerry asked.
Jane and Sayre both chuckled. “In a sense,” Jane continued. “It tells us to go bravely. I admit we guess as we go. It is dangerous. I will not deny that. You should not make such an attempt without training or a team behind you. No man has ever run the Gauley or hiked it – to the best of our knowledge. Too steep, too rocky, too little certainty in your footing. It’s guessing. You write those words. It’s the same as when we climbed the Himalayan Mountains. The people standing around and gawking won’t do it. So we do it on their behalf. We stop periodically to map our trajectory, and we will share our findings upon our return.”
Jane walked away without any pleasantries. Sayre shook Jerry’s hand and followed. They went to work on what looked like the final task – moving the last of the equipment into the rafts.
Kody was awestruck by Jane and Sayre. The furthest he had ever been from home was twenty miles. Dad took him to the mine once. He was squeezed on the mine shaft elevator between the metallic work gear hanging from oiled leather belts. The elevator started with a shudder. They descended into the Earth.
He smelled flint and chalk. A cool and humid chill took the place of the warm sun. Then total blackness. Yellow incandescent lamps were turned on. Dad set to work lighting his gunpowder charges. That is when the dread came. With each explosion, the mine shook violently, dirt rained down from the ceiling, and the shockwave rocked his body and made his head hurt.
“Not you, friend,” Jane said to Kody, who still sat in the raft. “You and your classmates can come to wave us off, but you aren’t coming.”
Kody did not protest. He climbed out of the raft and joined his classmates. [teacher], only having just noticed he was missing, scolded him for leaving the group. He looked to see if his mom had noticed, but she had not found the courage to make the journey.
He noticed Mary looking at him with a subtle smirk. It felt like judgment, but he considered there was a hint of jealousy. Then his eyes flashed to Shirley.
Shirley’s dad worked at Piermont Chemical and made loads of money. She was rich. That meant she had nice things. She stood out with her shiny brown hair, thin button-down flannel shirt, and knee-length skirt.
Next to Shirley stood Alba, who wore a dress from pioneer times. Her hair looked like a tumbleweed, and she smelled bad.
Kody would admit his family was not much better off. They only had more because he was an only child. Alba had more than ten brothers.
Most families in Fossil and Richwood were from the same stock. That made Shirley stand out like a spotlight following overhead, always highlighting her best features. Everyone else belonged in the shadows.
Gavin stood further back up the hill with his dad. Gavin was his best friend. But Gavin’s dad was crazy. So Gavin was a little bit crazy.
He spotted Adam last. Adam stood on his own, at the edge of the crowd, swinging a stick at something imaginary. Mary and Adam were twins, but they were also very different. It was rare to see Adam hanging around with anyone. In rare moments, Adam would socialize, but only if he could use Mary as a shield.
The rafts were moved into the water. People went quiet with anticipation. Then the trees around them became loud with the screaming of birds of all shapes and sizes. The birds took off and into the sky, all heading opposite the river’s flow.
Kody heard someone say it was a bad omen. Someone else commented that children should not watch anyone going to their death willingly. These objections were not met with action.
Sayre paid the birds no attention. He put his raft into the water. Before the current swept him away, he announced they were leaving the car, and if they did not come back by the end of the week, nobody should bother looking for bodies. The next three rafters followed. All four were carried away and out of sight.
Kody’s heart raced for each of them. He wanted them to survive. If they lived, they would have to come back for the Ford, and they could share tales of their journey. From far off, Sayre gave a cry of excitement.
The excitement died down. There were murmurs of disappointment. Many people wondered aloud if it had been worth the trip. People started back to their cars. Many would head to work. Kody and his class still had to finish the school day. It was the last week before summer break, and watching the rafters was the class field trip for the school year.
Once back at school, they would walk up the road to Mrs. Randell’s house. She had converted her home into the town’s library. They would help her to clean, reorganize the books, and fill out the card catalog system with new books. Students less apt at schoolwork but were handy with tools or a paintbrush would fix the damage to the fence caused by a felled tree. Kody felt certain he would be doing yard work all afternoon.
A hand fell on Kody’s shoulder. He snapped out of his daydream.
“You still need a ride?” Gavin’s dad asked. “Your mom would bitch me out good if I left you.”
Kody was standing along the riverbank alone. Everyone else had started back to their cars. “I do, thanks,” Kody said.
Kody climbed into the bed of the truck with Gavin. The truck went into gear, and the tires spun, pulling out onto the road. They sped past the line of cars sinking on their suspensions as people hitched rides and piled on each other.
Gavin’s dad pinned the gas pedal to the floorboard. Smoke poured from the exhaust. A car pulled out in front of them. Gavin’s dad chucked the truck left. The front tires dove across the solid line and around the car. They went off the road briefly before he spun the steering wheel back to the right. The rear fishtailed in the grass, but his foot never left the gas pedal. A shower of grass and dirt went up around them. Wind rushed around the truck and blew their hair and shirts out behind them. The truck straightened and surged ahead. The trees lining the road were a blur. Kody held on for dear life. Gavin howled with glee.
Kody bravely leaned his head over the side of the truck and scanned the road ahead. It looked clear. Gavin’s dad shifted the truck into third gear, and the engine settled into a comfortable rumble. They were making good time. Kody was in no rush to get back to class, but after watching the rafters set off, he wanted some excitement. The day turned out to be just about perfect, just so long as nobody told his mom how Gavin’s dad drove his truck with the boys in the bed.
“That was cool,” Kody yelled through the wind to Gavin.
“You liked the rafters a lot,” Gavin yelled back.
“I never met any adult like them before.”
“Good thing your mom wasn’t there. She would have screamed you to her side where you would heel like a dog.”
His mom’s refusal to venture too far away from the house made him feel a mixture of shame, guilt, and sadness. All of these emotions were confusing, especially when they came simultaneously. When he sat with these emotions long enough, he would feel anger for not knowing how to fix them.
But Gavin was right. Had his mom found some courage to make the trip just this once, he would not have been able to approach Sayre and learn so much about being an adventurer. Kody had always imagined himself working in the mine one day, but for the first time, he saw a different future for himself.
Gavin slapped the rear window of the cab. The middle section of the window had been open. “What do you think, dad?” Gavin asks his dad.
Gavin’s dad turned his head and mouth something without taking the cigarette from between his lips. Kody thought one of the words was “cunt” and a strongly worded sentence with the phrase “nagging whore.”
Kody smiled just to be agreeable. His mom taught him to never stir the pot. Always best to agree and make lots of friends, she would say. But he was unhappy to hear what Gavin’s dad thought about his mom.
“Did you get a good read on them?” Gavin asked.
“What do you mean?”
Gavin leaned forward, furrowed his brow, and asked in an accusatory tone, “were they red?”
Kody had to process what Gavin was asking, then it came to him. Gavin and his dad had become obsessed with the idea of Russian saboteurs in America.
“They are not Russian spies,” Kody replied with uncertainty. He had not asked specifically about their allegiance, but they did not have Russian accents like you heard on the radio.
Gavin pulled his cigarette tin from his back pocket. He tried to light one, but the wind made it impossible. “Dad and I figured it all out,” Gavin said, taking a pretend puff of the unlit cigarette. “That is why he has his good hunting rifle in the cab. It’s loaded too.”
Kody had been shown many hiding places in the truck. A gun rack attached to the roof of the cab held a sawed-off shotgun. There was a place for a rifle under the seat, along with a smugglers box Gavin claimed held three grenades – Kody had never seen these but did not doubt Gavin’s dad could get them.
There were spots for two revolvers, one behind the steering column and another in the passenger footwell. There was a pistol behind the radio. The radio was for show because the electronics had been stripped out to make room for the gun.
Gavin’s dad was a curiosity. He worked in a small surface mine with William Sears on Sears’s property. Nobody in Fossil admitted to buying coal from Sears’s mine because they did not dare go against the Colt Mine, even though coal from Colt Mine was more expensive and had a higher ratio of sulfur. Gavin’s dad was less nuts than William, but only by the width of an ant hill.
“So, get this,” Gavin said, “those rafters are communist infiltrators looking for places to set up secret bases. They use abandoned coal mines to move underneath the country.”
Kody was still not convinced, but he had no good argument. “They seem like normal Americans, just more adventurous. Also, I don’t think coal mines run under the country. Dad has shown me maps. The longest mines only go a few miles.”
“They are digging the tunnels,” Gavin said with a matter-of-fact tone. “Soviets have better technology. It explains all of the UFO sightings over America. They are not UFOs. They are Soviet spacecraft. America can’t even put a satellite into space. It is shameful the Reds beat us. America won’t be around in five years. We will bow to the Soviets. If not, they will shoot us with light beams that can turn you to ash, just like -” Gavin snapped his finger for effect. “So you have to figure those rafters were going down the river. They must have been working down from one of the mountain peaks. There are hundreds of radar dishes all over the tops of Appalachia communicating with Soviet satellites overhead. They are going to the lowest point of Appalachia to start digging.”
Gavin’s statements were one of many facts he parroted from his dad. Gavin took Kody’s silence as proof the argument was won, then went on puffing the unlit cigarette.
Halfway back to Fossil, they slowed to fifteen miles an hour for a large tanker truck hogging the center of the road. The truck’s exhaust suffocated them. Their eyes watered and noses ran from the acrid fumes. Gavin’s dad cursed and slapped the wheel. He leaned out the window and gestured not too kindly for the truck to get over.
All of the progress they had made back to Fossil was undone by the truck. Behind them, the vague shapes of several cars were coming up fast.
Gavin patted Kody’s arm and pointed off into the distance. “What’s that?” He asked.
Kody noticed the strobing red light. “I think it’s a police car.”
Gavin got his dad’s attention with one word: “Cops.”
Gavin’s dad sat up straight and put both hands on the wheel. He slowed and pulled the truck off the road. The big truck in front did the same.
Gavin leaned over the side of the truck and waved the police along. Two police cars with “Summersville” painted down the side sped around them.
“They are moving,” Gavin’s dad said. “Bet we can keep up.” He gave a thumbs up to both boys and gunned it. The trucker blew his horn.
Gavin asked, “Where do you think they are going?”
“Not sure,” Kody replied.
“Maybe it is the mine.”
“No way,” Kody said with the same uncertainty he had in response to the question about the rafters being Red. He had a strange feeling all of a sudden. His dad did all of the explosive work for the mine. Same as his grandfather and great-grandfather. But his dad would never mess up. Dad had walked him through how to measure the gunpowder, how to wrap the charge, and how far you should be to avoid debris. But something else could have happened – a methane leak, a weak support beam, or just bad luck.
They followed the police cars into Fossil town limits, sped down Main Street, and came to the dirt road that led to the mine. Kody’s stomach tumbled. He gripped the truck bed tightly and prayed it was all a misunderstanding.
They followed the police cars down the slope of the hill to where the entrance of the mine stood in the middle of a barren field. People from town were always gathering. The two police cars from Richwood drove around the crowd and joined the police from Fossil to create a better barricade. Deputy Bayers and Sheriff Stevens from the Fossil Police Department were already on the scene.
The entrance to the mine was a hundred feet behind the barricade. It looked the same as any other day. A small wooden tower and a large winch system to raise and lower the elevator and the coal carts.
Throughout the day, the pulley would o spin and bring up two carts of coal at a time. Two horses pulled the loaded cart a short distance to the coal hopper. This raised each cart into the air. The truck would drive underneath, and the hopper would pour the load. Now everything sat idle.
Kody hopped out of the truck, pushed through the crowd, and tried to get the attention of a police officer. Nobody would give him any attention. He was too short and his voice soft. Then someone yanked him out of the way.
Kody stumbled backward and tripped over a shoe. He looked up to see Mrs. Donaldson standing over him, a flash of anger that some child was playing games during such a serious moment, but then she recognized it was Kody and her face sank.
“I’m so sorry, child,” she said and helped him to his feet.
Gavin caught up and helped wipe the dirt off Kody’s clothes. “How bad is it? Did they mention your dad?”
Kody gave an unknowing shrug.
More cars and trucks arrived. Many were coming from watching the rafters. The crowd surged to more than a hundred people swarmed the inadequate barricade.
Kody and Gavin were pushed backward but stopped when a truck almost hit them. Kody recognized Maybell from behind the wheel. She was smacking the wheel to blow the horn repeatedly. The truck lurched to a stop. His mom rushed out and swept Kody into a hug. With him in her grasp, she pushed through the crowd and tried to interrogate Sheriff Stevens and the rest of the people.
Sheriff Stevens had enough. He put on his siren and blew his whistle for a long minute. Both oppressive sounds got the point across.
“We need calm,” Sheriff Stevens said. “Keep the road clear.” He pointed through the crowd to Maybell, parked sideways across the road and looked ready to set up camp for the rest of the day. When the crowd turned their attention on her, she flushed red and then hurried to reverse the truck into the field with the other vehicles.
Sheriff Stevens continued, “there has been an accident. We suspected something was wrong when our coffee cups started to rattle early this morning. Quakes don’t typically affect the mines. We actually don’t get many quakes out this way. But a few folks got a bad feeling and came to check things out.”
Accidents were common in Appalachia. Farming deaths were some of the most tragic, but occasionally a logger fell from a tree, or a horse kicked someone in the head. But you could not beat the number of lives taken by coal.
“I am wagering that the mine and all mine inside are okay. The trouble is, the mine elevator can’t be brought up. The wench works, but the platform is stuck. It is around two hundred and sixty feet to the bottom. Even deeper where they have been cutting this season.”
Kody asked, “could it be an explosion?”
Mom hissed, “how dare you say that.”
The crowd started to get loud again.
Deputy Stevens blew his whistle and demanded quiet again. “I have the names of the fifty-three miners who work the mine. If you are of direct relation to any man who left for work this morning and they are not accounted for now, step across the barrier so we can verify their missing status. If anyone is known to miss work regularly, and maybe they are sleeping off a hard night, go check and see if you can find them in their usual spots.”
Some people dispersed, knowing the places to look for the drunks. Kody and his mom were certain dad had left for the mine and did not have any hidden secrets.
Sheriff Stevens walked through the group and asked each person the same question: “What is your name and who are you related to in the mine? Did he go to work this morning?”
When it was his mom’s turn, she cleared her throat. “I’m Caroline Brooks. My husband is Burnham Brooks. This is Kody, our son.”
The Sherriff nodded. Then to Kody, he asked, “why did you bring up an explosion earlier?”
“It is dad’s job,” Kody replied.
Mom shifted on her feet. He could see the panicked look on her face and that she might want to run for home without warning.
Sheriff Stevens pressed Kody about the condition of his dad. “How was your father acting this morning?”
“Acting?” Kody asked, not quite sure what he meant. Dad never played pretend. He always teetered between stern and carefree but not playful.
One evening he came home drunk and sat beside Kody. He explained that he knew that death lingered in the mine, which is why he took his job seriously. But at the same time, he had also made peace with his mortality.
Up until that talk, Kody thought he knew his dad well. Laying in bed later that night, staring at the ceiling, he decided his father was not so simple. He never considered that his dad had thoughts and feelings too, and many were dark. This changed how he viewed his dad. Like he was something different than what he had been presented with his entire life. To confound things further, the next morning, dad acted like nothing had been said. Kody wondered if other adults had thoughts and feelings, and maybe they hid them like dad.
Sherriff Stevens clarified his question, “had he come in late last night, or did he leave this morning seeming upset?”
Mom snapped at the Sheriff, her voice rising, “you are asking because you think he made a mistake.”
“Ma’am, please.” Sherriff Stevens raised his hand to quiet her. “Keep your voice down. No need to rile everyone up more than they are. If you have any information to share, that will let us get help to every man down there sooner.”
Kody expected mom to tell the truth, but she didn’t.
“He was normal, awake, following his normal routines. He would never make a mistake. His record is perfect.”
“I appreciate that, Caroline.” Deputy Stevens turned his attention to Kody. “How about you? Notice anything about your dad?”
Kody wanted to share how dad forgot simple things daily and occasionally wandered outside and strumbled off into the woods before returning home disheveled and worn out. He had no idea he had been gone.
Dad could have made a mistake if his illness had made him lose focus. Most people just suffocated slowly after breathing in too much coal dust, but usually only because of a problem after a few decades of mine work. Dad had been working the mine for a little more than a decade. But he did a lot of the blasting. Repeatedly blowing things up throughout the day had made his mind a bit funny.
He wondered if Mom squeezed his hand for comfort or for him to keep some things secret. A mixture of emotions was coming up. His impulse was to push them down.
Even if dad had messed up, he never carried enough explosive powder to do any real damage. At least not enough to cause a quake people could feel in town.
“No, sir,” Kody said, feeling assured that dad and the mine would be fine.
“Good to hear it,” Sheriff Stevens said. “You all should go seek support from the community until we know more. For now, we need to clear the area during the investigation.” He motioned for the next person to step forward.
The day rolled on. People used the bed of Maybell’s truck to serve water and food. Some people had gone home and were coming back with chairs and tents. Everything was shared.
Those who were the loudest earlier in the day had exhausted themselves. Tears and crying were replaced with quiet anticipation. The normal end of the mine shift neared, and the miners would begin to appear in groups of eight and ten. There was hope that any moment, the mine shaft pulley would start up and the first batch of men would step out and wonder why there was such a large fuss.
People with construction skills stood around the mine shaft and took turns yelling down the hill. Nobody knew what to do. The day shift ended, and the elevator had still not come up. A few years prior, there had been two shifts, but a downturn in business from competition from mine companies that could afford to mechanize meant shorter hours and layoffs.
By nightfall, they had tied a rope to a bucket with paper and pencil inside and lowered it. They hoped the miners were seated at the bottom of the mine shaft and would send a message describing a minor malfunction.
Then the sun set. Kody lay beside Maybell’s truck. He did not stay focused on the mine. He pictured the rafters careening down the Gauley. Sayre uses the rock to steer the increasingly dangerous rocks jutting out of the water, ready to destroy the raft and drown everyone one of them.
He wondered how much distance they would cover in a single day. Then he tried to imagine how they would stop the raft. Did they ram the raft onto the shore, or did the river flatten and slow at some point? He guessed not even Sayre knew what awaited them. Whatever happened, Kody was sure that when they finally rested for the day, it would be around a fire where they would laugh and share stories about all the adventures they had enjoyed.
His mother jabbed his side. “You shouldn’t be dozing off at a time like this.”
“Why not?” He asked.
“I need you,” she said. “Your father needs you. Think positive. That will get us through this.”
He was not at all sure what she meant. Nobody was getting out of the mine unless they could move the elevator. But even if part of the mine had come down, he was certain dad could find a way to use his dynamite to blast his way out.
Dad always came home. There was no way anything bad could happen in Fossil.
A draft of my novel, Fossil. This is chapter 1. Several final revisions are needed.
The Gauley River roared against the shallow riverbed and large rocks exposed above the water’s surface. The turbulence created a white foam and mist that filled with the smell of silt. The heart of Appalachia pulsed with many of these marvelous waterways. Most were a mystery, not yet documented on maps or seen with human eyes. But on this day in the later spring of 1962, the mysteries of the Gauley would be uncovered.
Kody joined the crowd in applause when a Ford station wagon packed with gear drove off Route Thirty-Nine and slid to a stop at the river’s edge.
Four people emerged from the car and waved briefly to the large crowd. Two of the people had grey hair and wrinkles. The other two were young. Despite there difference in age, they moved with the same eagerness.
The newspaper offered details about the group planning an expedition into the most dangerous areas of Appalachian. They would accomplish this feat on four rafts.
An air compressor was removed from the trunk and set behind the passenger side rear wheel. They jacked up the car and ran a belt from the back axle to the air compressor.
Four bundled rafts were removed from the roof cargo carrier. A hose connected the first raft to the air compressor.
“Start her up, Jane,” the old man said to the old woman.
She slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the starter. The engine came to life with a brief puff of smoke. The engine sounded rough, but it soon settled into a lumpy idle. The pulley spun and the air compressor sucked in the early morning air.
With the rafts inflating, the remaining contents held within the Ford were divided and moved next to each raft.
Kody admired how the four people cursed and laughed as they worked. He wondered how they knew what tasks needed doing first and how they kept track of everything without pen and papet. It looked to him like play, but grownups never played.
Dad went about his work with what looked to Kody like tiredness and frustration. In the morning, dad always seemed somewhat happy, but he always returned in a sour mood. Joints aching, muscles tired, and head throbbing, he collapsed over the wash basin the backyard and washed until all of the black dust came off. The black dust never truly left. You could always find a smudge here or there, even after soaking in boiling water and rubbing your skin raw. Not to mention when the black dust clogged up your lungs. There was no soap for things that got inside.
Whether you worked the mine, cut down trees, slaughtered pigs, stamped steel, or did odd jobs, you worked to survive and you came home worse off than when you set off in the morning. Each day you got older, more achy, and often more and more sick.
Kody wanted to get in close and learn everything about them. He wanted to learn how to be like them when he grew up.
Mary stopped him. “You can’t go down there,” she said. Mary was the twin of Adam. Ms. [Teacher] always tasked Mary with sounding the alarm when anyone broke the rules. Mary was no teacher’s pet, but she still held that rules made by adults were created with some good sense and aught be followed by young kids.
Kody looked over her shoulder and spotted [teacher] who was turned away and talking to someone he did not recognize.
“I’m not going to touch anything,” he said.
She shot him a warning glare before she went back to talking with Alba and Shirley. What was the point of following a rule if it could not not be enforced, Kody thought to himself
He approached the rafts cautiously. The one being inflated had grown to an imposing size. It had swelled and stretched to nearly the length of the Ford.
“I think it is going to pop,” Kody yelled over the sound of the car engine and compressor.
The old man heard Kody and came over to inspect the raft. “We are incredibly close, young man,” the old man said. “Name is Sayre Rodman.” Sayre’s wrinkled hand took Kody’s smaller hand and shook it emphatically.
“Kody Burnham,” Kody responded. Getting his hand back, he asked, “how much larger does it get?”
“Six feet wide by twelve feet long, and just about as tall as you are now,” Sayre said. “These were air force rafts. Designed for six people to launch into the ocean. They saw combat along the European front during World War II.”
Kody ran around the raft and looked for signs of scorch marks, bullet holes, or blood stains.
Sayre chuckled, “nothing so incredible.” Noticing the raft had reached the correct PSI, he turned a valve on the raft. The hose popped off with a sharp hiss of air. He stepped on the hose to keep it from whipping around, then attached it to the next raft.
While Sayre worked on repeating the process, Kody looked inside of the inflated raft. It was empty.
“Watch yourself,” Sayre said. He brought over two cinder blocks roped together and dropped them inside of the raft.
“What are those for?” Kody asked.
“That’s a clever thing,” Sayre said. “These rafts were designed for oceans and a full load. Not rapids and a single soul. They get airborne easily and you don’t have to worry about them capsizing or taking on water. But they don’t turn very well. We add the weight to the front to keep the nose down, and you can heft it to one side or the other to change direction.”
“Do you stand in it?” Kody asked.
“Ah, good question.” Sayre retrieved a wooden plank and set it in the middle of the raft. “See how it sits in those grooves?” He lifted Kody into the raft and sat him on the plank.
“We sit where you are now,” Sayre continued. “Then we hold the oars through these oarlocks.” He found two oars and installed them.
Kody used his entire body to lift on in the air, but it swung uncontrollable, almost hitting Sayre.
“You got a few more years until you can handle them well. When you are strong enough, you would use the oars to steer the raft, or to slow down. You never create power. Gravity is your engine. Most important is you must stay off the rocks. It’s like being a Spitfire pilot, dogfighting between mountain peaks to avoid anti-aircraft fire.” His hand took on the motion of flying a plane and made whooshing noises, then he mimed a missile strike and the plant crashed.
“Don’t fool with the boy,” the old woman came over to see what had been distracting Sayre. “It’s a life raft from an airplane used during emergency landings. You won’t be storming any European beaches with it. Now help me with this equipment.”
Sayre leaned in close to Kody. “My misses, Jane. Hell of an adventurer, but no imagination. We got it though, right?” Sayre tapped Kody’s head with a wink and a smile.
“Yes, sir,” Kody enjoyed the idea of having brains equal to Sayre. Sitting in the raft presented infinite possibilities. There were rivers all around the world, and with a raft like this one he could see all of them.
Sayre and Jane went back to work, helping to sort supplies and inflate the next two rafts. The process was laborious, but they made quick progress. Kody wanted to get Sayre’s attention to ask more questions, but thought better of it. Just as he was ready to climb out of the raft, a journalist came through the crowd to ask all of the questions Kody never knew he wanted answered.
“Mr. Rodman,” the journalist had called out repeatedly. He was riding a rusty and dented bicycle. People had to leap out of the way, cursing as he went by. The bike slide to a stop in from of the raft where Kody sat. The bike fell over and the man raced up to Sayre with his notepad and pen clutched in his hand. He was obviously running late. His cheeks were red and his pits were wet.
“I’m so glad I caught you before you left,” the man announced between breathes.
“Catch your breathe,” Sayre said. He patted the man hard on the back and offered to let him sit on the rear bumper of the Ford.
“My name is Jerry Bright with the Richwood Journal. We spoke during your last attempt down the this very river. Do you have a moment?”
“I don’t remember you. But ask anything.” Before starting the interview, he turned to Jane, “Let the boy here help with whatever is left.”
Jane motioned Kody over to her, but Kody didn’t want to leave Sayre’s side. He was already so taken by the old man and desired to learn more about him and his adventures. Jane did not press, instead letting him enjoy the moment.
Jerry began the interview by pointing out the size of the crowd. “You have drawn more than a hundred people along the Gauley River. I see friends from Richwood, Summersville, and even a few from Fossil. I reported on your first attempted journey down these difficult waters two years ago. You failed then. Can you tell us why you have returned and what is different?”
The question sounded like an insult, but Sayre did not seem to mind. He stood in quiet contemplation. Then his response flowed easily.
“That was October first or second, in fifty-nine. We had a different group. We had been named the Whitewater Pioneers. I remember heavy rains. The water was above our heads where we stand right now. The current carried trees, cars, and homes. We had to go in at the bridge on Route Thirty-Nine. Not a minute into our journey, we hit the strongest rapids we had ever encountered. Sent us into the trees across on the other bank there – perhaps it was a little way back.” He scanned the riverbank on the other side, seemed to loose himself in memory, then came back to the moment.
“We were stuck,” he continued. “We roped between the trees to create a line to get out and onto higher ground. We worked for hours and exhausted ourselves. We had no escape. But we continued. We soon came to a rise in the land. A man had built his house there. It was the perfect elevation to not be washed out. He fed us and gave us a warm place to sleep.”
Jerry interrupted, his pen still scribbling in his notebook, “but you tried again the next day and still failed.”
“You’re right.” Sayre went on, “the rains were slowing but the river seemed to have sped up. We considered calling it off. Then the man who saved us came out onto his porch and talked bitterly about the Gauley. He called it a beautiful river. Said it should remain untouched. But state officials were working to build a hydroelectric plant. That would raise the water level up to the road just behind us – maybe 50 feet. Downstream, there would be nothing but a slow trickle. We knew we had to run the river before we lost the chance. Merry on our arrogance, we went out at first light. Not ten feet off the porch one of our guys had his raft come up over his head. He nearly drowned. The river didn’t want us. It was a terrible end to a journey we had hardly even began.”
“You hope to be vindicated today?” Jerry asked.
“It has been two years. We thought the dam would be built already, but the government can’t do anything right. Lucky for us.”
“The river is calm today,” Jerry noted. “What does this peaceful morning mean for your run?”
“I talked with our group. Mostly I listen to Jane, my wife. For me, it’s today or never. Regardless of what happens, we’ll find our way down. We might reach the bottom with some bruises and lost equipment, but we will not fail.”
Kody delighted in the image of so much bravery. He wondered what wonders would found at the end of the Gauley River and deep into lands nobody has never explored.
“One last item, for your wife.” Jerry asked Jane, “Anything you would like to add? Are you feeling as confident as your husband?”
She looked with admiration at the Gauley River. “It is impressive, isn’t it? Running smoothly and carving soft valleys through the mountain range. We’ll be descending hundreds of feet at a great speed.”
Jerry interrupted, “some people see this as a dangerous stunt. Do you agree with them?”
“Many people refuse to live. We show what is possible, and experience what others will not. The people here and elsewhere will read our story. In time, they might say they would have loved to have followed. The danger is missing your opportunity, don’t you agree?”
Jerry stood there quietly, unsure what direction he should rock his head.
“Ah, well,” Jane continued, “my answer is there is no danger. The rapids are quite good today. Do you hear it?”
Kody held his lungs and listened. He only heard the rush of water, a light wind, and birds in the distance.
“Ma’am?” Jerry looked at Jane, his pen not moving.
“The rumble-rumble thump sound mixed with a throaty roar,” she explained. She turned to face the river and opened her arms, her face catching the sun. “Some cannot sense it because they choose not to hear nature.”
“The river speaks to you?” Jerry asked.
Jane and Sayre both chuckled. “In a sense,” Jane continued. “It tells us to go bravely. To give you something that you can publish, I admit we guess as we go. It is dangerous, I will not deny that. Without training or a team behind you, you should not make such an attempt. No man has ever run the Gauley, or even hiked it, to the best of our knowledge. Too steep, too rocky, too little certainty in your footing. It’s guessing. You write those words. It’s the same as when we climbed the Himalayan Mountains. The people standing around and gawking, they won’t do it. So we do it. . We stop periodically to map our trajectory and we will share our findings upon our return.”
Jane walked away without any pleasantries. Sayre shook Jerry’s hand and followed. They went to work on what looked like the final task – moving the last of the equipment into the rafts.
Kody was awestruck by Jane and Sayre. The furthest he had ever been from home was twenty miles. Dad took him to the mine once. He was squeezed on the mine shaft elevator between the metallic work gear hanging from oiled leather belts. The elevator started with a shudder. They descended into the Earth.
He smelled flint and chalk. A cool and humid chill took the place of the warm sun. Then total blackness. Yellow incandescent lamps were turned on. Dad set to work lighting his gunpowder charges. That is when the dread came. With each explosion, the mine shook violently, dirt rained down from the ceiling, and the shockwave rocked his body and made his head hurt.
“Not you, friend,” Jane said to Kody who still sat in the raft. “You and your classmates can come wave us off, but you aren’t coming.”
Kody did not protest. He climbed out of the raft and joined his classmates. [teacher], only having just noticed he was missing, scolded him for leaving the group. He looked to see if his mom had noticed, but she had not worked up the courage to make the journey
He noticed Mary looking at him with a subtle smirk, but also what might have been a hint of jealousy. Then his eyes flashed to Shirley.
Shirley’s dad worked at Piermont Chemical and made loads of money. She was rich. That meant she had nice things. She stood out with her shiny brown hair, thin button-down flannel shirt, and knee length skirt.
Next to Shirley stood Alba who wore a dress straight from pioneer times. Her hair looked like a tumble weed and she smelled bad.
Kody would admit his family was not much better off. They only had more because he was an only child. Alba had more than ten brothers.
Most families in Fossil and Richwood were from the same stock. That made Shirley stand out like a spotlight followed overhead, always highlighting her best features. Everyone else belonged in the shadows.
Gavin stood further back up the hill with his dad. Gavin was his best friend. But Gavin’s dad was crazy. So Gavin was a little bit crazy.
He spotted Adam last. Adam stood on his own, at the edge of the crowd, swinging a stick at something imaginary. Mary and Adam were twins, but they were also very different. It was rare to see Adam hanging around with anyone. In rare moments, Adam would socialize but only if he could use Mary as a shield.
The rafts were moved into the water. People went quiet with anticipation. Then the trees around them became loud with the screaming of birds of all shapes and sizes. The birds took off and into the sky, all heading in the opposite direction of the river’s flow.
Kody heard someone say it was a bad omen. Someone else commented that children should not watch anyone going to their death willingly. These objections were not met with action.
Sayre paid the birds no attention. He put his raft in into the water. Before the current swept him away, he announced they were leaving the car, and if they did not come back by the end of the week, nobody should bother looking for bodies. The next three rafter followed. All four were carried away and out of sight.
Kody’s heart raced for each of them. He wanted them to survive. If they lived, they would have to come back for the Ford and they could share tales of their journey. From far off, Sayre gave a cry of excitement.
The excitement died down. There were murmurs of disappointment. Many people wondered aloud if it had been worth the trip. People started back to their cars. Many would head to work. Kody and his class still had to finish the school day. It was the last week before summer break, and watching the rafters was the class field trip for the school year.
Once back at school, they would walk up the road to Mrs. Randell’s house. She had converted her home into the town’s library. They would help her to clean, reorganize the books, and fill out the card catalog system with new books. Students less apt at schoolwork but were handy with tools or a paintbrush would fix the damage to the fence caused by a felled tree. Kody felt certain he would be doing yardwork all afternoon.
A hand fell on Kody’s shoulder. He snapped out of his daydream. He turned to see Gavin’s dad and everyone else had started back to the road.
“You still need a ride?” Gavin’s dad asked. “Your mom would bitch me out good if I left you.”
“I do, thanks,” Kody said.
Kody climbed into the bed of the truck with Gavin. The truck went into gear and the tires spun pulling out onto the road. They sped past the line of cars sinking on their suspensions as people hitched rides and piled on top of each other.
Gavin’s dad pinned the gas pedal to the floorboard. Smoke poured from the exhaust. A car pulled out in front of them. Gavin’s dad chucked the truck left. The front tires dove across the solid line and around the car. They went off the road briefly before he spun the steering wheel back to the right. The rear fishtailed in the grass, but his foot never left the gas pedal. A shower of grass and dirt went up around them. Wind rushed around the truck and blew their hair and shirts out behind them. The truck straightened and surged ahead. The trees lining the road were a blur. Kody held on for dear life. Gavin howled with glee.
Kody bravely leaned his head over the side of the truck and scanned the road ahead. It looked clear. Gavin’s dad shifted the truck into third gear and the engine settled into a comfortable rumble. They made great time. Kody was in no rush to get back to class, but after watching the rafters set off, he wanted some excitement. The day was turning out to be just about perfect, just so long as nobody told his mom how Gavin’s dad drove his truck with the boys in the bed.
“That was cool,” Kody yelled through the wind to Gavin.
“You liked the rafters a lot,” Gavin yelled back.
“I never met any adult like them before.”
“Good thing your mom wasn’t there. She would have screamed you back to her feet and made you heel, like a dog.”
His mom’s refusal to venture too far away from the house made him feel a mixture of shame, guilt, and sadness. All of these emotions were confusing, especially when they came all at once. When he sat with these emotions long enough, he would feel anger for not knowing how to fix it.
But Gavin was right. Had his mom found some courage to make the trip just this once, he would not have been able to approach Sayre and learn so much about being an adventurer. Kody had always imagined himself working in the mine one day, but for the first time he saw a different future for himself.
Gavin slapped the rear window of the cab. The middle section of the window had been open. “What do you think, dad?” Gavin ask his dad.
Gavin’s dad turned his head and mouth something without taking the cigarette from between his lips. Kody thought one of the words was “cunt” and a strongly worded sentence with the phrase “nagging whore.”
Kody smiled just to be agreeable. His mom taught him to never stir the pot. Always best to agree and make lots of friends, she would say. But he was not happy to hear what Gavin’s dad thought about his mom.
“Did you get a good read on them?” Gavin asked.
“What do you mean?”
Gavin leaned forward, furrowed his brow, and asked in an accusatory tone, “were they red?”
Kody had to process what Gavin was asking, then it came to him. Gavin and his dad had become obsessed with the idea of Russian sabatours in America.
“They are not Russian spies,” Kody replied with uncertainty in his voice. He had not asked specifically their allegiance, but they did not have Russian accents like you heard on the radio.
Gavin pulled his cigarette tin from his back pocket. He tried to light one, but the wind made it impossible. “Dad and I figured it all out,” Gavin said, taking a pretend puff of the unlit cigarette. “That is why he has his good hunting rifle in the cab. It’s loaded too.”
Kody had been shown many hiding places in the truck. There was a gun rack attached to the roof of the cab held a sawed-off shotgun. There was a place for a rifle under the seat, along with a smugglers box Gavin claimed held three grenades – Kody had never seen these but did not doubt Gavin’s dad could get them.
There were spots for two revolvers, one behind the steering column and another in the passenger footwell. There was a pistol behind the radio. The radio was for show because the electronics had been stripped out to make room for the gun.
Gavin’s dad was a curiosity. He worked in a small surface mine with William Sears on Sears’s property. Nobody in Fossil admitted to buying coal from Sears’s mine because they did not dare go against the Colt Mine, even though coal from Colt Mine was more expensive and had a higher ratio of sulfur. Gavin’s dad was less nuts than William, but only by the width of an ant hill.
“So, get this,” Gavin started to say, “those rafters are communist infiltrators looking for places to set up secret bases. They use abandoned coal mines to move underneath the country.”
Kody was still not convinced, but he had no good argument. “They seem like normal Americans, just more adventurous. Also, I don’t think coal mines run under the country. Dad has shown me maps and the longest mines only go a few miles.”
“They are digging the tunnels,” Gavin said with a matter-of-fact tone. “Soviets have better technology. It explains all of the UFO sightings over American. They are not UFOs. They are Soviet spacecraft. America can’t even put a satellite into space. It is shameful the Reds beat us. America won’t be around in five years. We will bow to the Soviets or they will shoot us with light beams that can turn you to ash, just like -” Gavin snapped his finger for effect. “So you have to figure, those rafters were going down the river. They must have been working down from one of the mountain peaks. There are hundreds of radar dishes all over the tops of Appalachia communicating with Soviet satellites overhead. Now they are going to the lowest point of Appalachia to start digging.”
All of these statements by Gavin were one of many facts he parroted from his dad. Gavin took Kody’s silence as proof the argument was won, then went on puffing the unlit cigarette.
Halfway back to Fossil, they slowed to fifteen miles an hour for a large tanker truck hogging the center of the road. The truck’s exhaust suffocated them. Their eyes watered and noses ran from the acrid fumes. Gavin’s dad cursed and slapped the wheel. He leaned out of the window and gestured not too kindly for the truck to get over.
All of the progress they had made back to Fossil was undone by the truck. Behind them, the vague shapes of several cars were coming up fast.
Gavin patted Kody’s arm and pointed off into the distance. “What’s that?” He asked.
Kody noticed the strobing red light. “I think it’s a police car.”
Gavin got his dad’s attention with one word: “Cops.”
Gavin’s dad sat up straight and put both hands on the wheel. He slowed and pulled the truck off the road. The big truck in front did the same.
Gavin leaned over the side of the truck and waved the police along. Two police cars with “Summersville” painted down the side sped around them.
“They are moving,” Gavin’s dad said. “Bet we can keep up.” He gave a thumbs up to both boys and gunned it. The trucker blew his horn.
Gavin asked, “Where do you think they are going?”
“Not sure,” Kody replied.
“Maybe it is the mine.”
“No way,” Kody said with the same uncertainty he had in response to the question about the rafters being Red. He had a strange feeling all of a sudden. His dad did all of the explosive work for the mine. Same as his grandfather and great grandfather. But his dad would never mess up. Dad had walked him through how to measure the gunpowder, how to wrap the charge, and how far you should be to avoid debris. But something else could have happened – a methane leak, a weak support beam, or just bad luck.
They followed the police cars into Fossil town limits, sped down Main Street, and came to the dirt road led to the mine. Kody’s stomach tumbled. He gripped the truck bed tightly and prayed it was all a misunderstanding.
They followed the police cars down the slope of the hill to where the entrance of the mine stood in the middle of a barren field. People from town were always gathering. The two police cars from Richwood drove around the crowd and joined the police from Fossil to create a better barricade. Deputy Bayers and Sheriff Stevens from the Fossil Police Department were already on the scene.
The entrance to the mine was a hundred feet behind the barricade. It looked the same as any other day. A small wooden tower and a large winch system to raise and lower the elevator and the coal carts.
Throughout the day, the pulley would o spin and bring up two carts of coal at a time. Two horses pulled the loaded cart a short distance to the coal hopper. This raised each cart into the air. The truck would drive underneath and the hopper would pour the load. Now everything sat idle.
Kody hopped out of the truck and pushed through the crowd and tried to get the attention of a police officer to find out if anyone had heard an explosion. But nobody would give him any attention. He was too short and his voice too soft. Then someone yanked him out of the way.
Kody stumbled backward and tripped over a shoe. He looked up to see Mrs. Donaldson standing over him, a flash of anger that some child was playing games during such a serious moment, but then she recognized Kody and her face sank.
“I’m so sorry, child,” she said and helped him to his feet.
Gavin caught up and helped wipe the dirt of Kody’s clothes. “How bad is it? Did they mention your dad?”
Kody gave an unknowing shrug.
More cars and trucks arrived. Many were coming from watching the rafters. The crowd surged to more than a hundred people swarmed the inadequate barricade.
Kody and Gavin were pushed backwards but stopped when a truck almost hit them. Kody recognized Maybell from behind the wheel. She was smacking the wheel to blow the horn repeatedly. The truck lurched to a stop and his mom was out and hugging Kody. With him in her grasp, she pushed through the crowd and tried to interrogate Sheriff Stevens along with the rest of the people.
Sheriff Stevens had enough. He put on his siren and blew his whistle for a long minute. Both oppressive sounds got the point across.
“We need calm,” Sheriff Stevens said. “Keep the road clear.” He pointed through the crowd to Maybell who was parked sideways across the road and looked ready to set up camp for the rest of the day. When the crowd turned their attention on her, she flushed red then hurried to reverse the truck into the field with the other vehicles.
Sheriff Stevens continued, “there has been an accident. We suspected something was wrong when our coffee cups started to rattle early this morning. Quakes don’t typically affect the mines. We actually don’t get many quakes out this way either. But a few folks got a bad feeling and came to check things out.”
Accidents were common in Appalachia. Farming deaths were some of the most tragic, but occasionally a logger fell from a tree, or a horse kicked someone in the head. But you could not beat the number of lives taken by coal.
“I am wagering that the mine and all mine inside are okay. The trouble is, the mine elevator can’t be brought up. The wench works, but the platform is stuck. It is around two hundred and sixty feet to the bottom. Even deeper where they have been cutting this season.”
Kody asked, “could it be an explosion?”
Mom hissed, “how dare you say that.”
The crowd started to get loud again.
Deputy Stevens blew his whistle and demanded quiet again. “I have the names of the fifty three miners who work the mine. If you are of direct relation to any man who left for work this morning, and they are not accounted for now, step across the barrier so we can verify their missing status. If anyone is known to miss work regularly, and maybe they are sleeping off a hard night, go check and see if you can find them in their usual spots.”
Some people dispersed, knowing the places to look for the drunks. Kody and his mom were certain dad had left for the mine and did not have any hidden secrets.
More than one-fifth of the town’s population now stood grouped together. There were more people who were family and friends who had not yet heard the news. Word would soon spread and the crowd would grow larger.
Sheriff Stevens walked through the group and asked each person the same question: “What is your name and who are you related to in the mine? Did he go to work this morning?”
When it was his mom’s turn, she cleared her throat. “I’m Caroline Brooks and my husband is Burnham Brooks. This is Kody, our son.”
The Sherriff gave a nod to Kody, then asked, “why did you bring up an explosion earlier?”
“It is dad’s job,” Kody replied.
Mom shifted on her feet. He could see the panicked looked on her face and that she might want to run for home without warning.
Sheriff Stevens pressed Kody about the condition of his dad. “How was your father acting this morning?”
“Acting?” Kody asked, not quite sure what he meant. Dad never played pretend. He always teetered between stern and carefree, but not playful.
One evening he came home drunk and sat beside Kody. He explained that he knew that death lingered in the mine, which is why he took his job seriously. But at the same time, he had also made peace with his mortality.
Up until that talk, Kody thought he knew his dad well. Laying in bed later that night, starring up at the ceiling, he decide his father was not so simple. He never considered that his dad had thoughts and feelings too, and a lot of them were dark. This changed how he viewed his dad. Like he was something different than what he had been presented for his entire life. To confound things further, the next morning dad acted like nothing had been said. Kody wondered if other adults had thoughts and feelings, and maybe they hid them like dad.
Sherriff Stevens clarified his question, “had he come in late last night, or did he leave this morning seeming upset?”
Mom snapped at the Sheriff, her voice rising, “you are asking because you think he made a mistake.”
“Ma’am, please.” Sherriff Stevens raised his hand to quiet her. “Keep you voice down. No need to rile everyone up more than they are. If you have any information, we might get help to every man down there sooner.”
Kody expected mom to tell the truth, but she didn’t.
“He was normal, awake, following his normal routines. He wouldn’t make a mistake. Never has and I wouldn’t expect him to start making them now.”
“I appreciate that, Caroline.” Deputy Stevens turned his attention to Kody. “How about you? Notice anything about your dad?”
Kody wanted to share how dad forgot simple things daily and would occasionally wander outside and stumble off into the woods before returning home disheveled and worn out, and had no idea he had been gone.
Dad could have made a mistake if his illness had made him lose focus. Most people just suffocated slowly after breathing in too much coal dust, but usually only because a problem after a few decades of mine work. Dad had been working the mine for a little more than a decade. But he did a lot of the blasting. Repeatedly blowing things up throughout the day had made his mind a bit funny.
Mom squeezed his hand – was it for comfort or for him to keep some things secret, he wondered. The mixture of emotions were coming up and he needed to push them down.
Then it occurred to him, even if he had messed up, dad never carried enough explosive powder to do any real damage. At least not enough to cause a quake people could feel in town.
“No, sir,” Kody said, feeling assured that dad and the mine would be fine.
“Good to hear it,” Sheriff Stevens said. “You all should go seek support from the community until we know more. For now, we need to clear the area during the investigation.” He motioned for the next person to step forward.
The day rolled on. People used the bed of Maybell’s truck to serve water and food. Some people had gone home and were coming back with chairs and tents. Everything was shared.
Those who were the loudest earlier in the day had exhausted themselves. Tears and crying were replaced with quiet anticipation. The normal end of the mine shift neared, and the miners would begin to appear in groups of eight and ten. There was hope that any moment, the mine shaft pulley would start up and the first batch of men would step out and wonder why there was such a large fuss.
People with construction skills stood around the mine shaft and took turns yelling down the hill. Nobody knew what to do, when the day shift ended in the evening and the elevator had still not come up.
By night fall, they had tied a rope to a bucket with paper and pencil inside and lowered it. They hoped that the miners were seated at the bottom of the mine shaft and would send up a message describing a minor malfunction.
Then the sun set. Kody lay beside Maybell’s truck. He did not stay focused on the mine. He pictured the rafters careening down the Gauley. Sayre using the rock to steer the increasingly dangerous rocks jutting out of the water, ready to destroy the raft, and drown everyone one of them.
He wondered how much distance they would cover in a single day. Then he tried to imagine how they would stop the raft. Did they ram the raft onto shore or did the river flatten out and slow at some point? He guessed not even Sayre knew what awaited them. Whatever happened, Kody was sure when they finally rested for the day, it would be around a fire where they would laugh and share stories about all of the adventures they had enjoyed in life.
His mother jabbed his side. “You shouldn’t be dozing off at a time like this.”
“Why not?” He asked.
“I need you,” she said. “Your father needs you. Think positive so we all get through this.”
He was not at all sure what she meant. Unless they could move the elevator, nobody was getting out of the mine. But even if part of the mine had come down, he was certain dad could find a way to use his dynamite to blast his way out.
Dad always came home. There was no way anything bad could happen in Fossil.
