News; reconnaissance; lies
J drops the paper on the table, open ta the third page. The headline reads "Institute purchases digging rights from Tanning."
"Look at that shit," he says, fallin inta the chair opposite me.
"I see it."
"Tannin's held those rights since the mines opened."
"That's true."
"And now they're sellin ta the Institute." He looks at me, and when I don't say anythin he reaches for the bag a'loose leaf on the table and sets inta rollin himself a smoke. He fumbles with the paper, some a'the leaf spillin onta his pants.
"Fuck," he mutters, startin over.
"It's coincidental," I say.
"Coincidental." He isn't lookin at me.
"Us havin some problems with the Institute the night before this comes out."
"Some problems? I was fuckin shot."
"You were tasered."
"Fuck you," he says. "And by the way, thanks for rushin out ta get me. That was good a'you."
"I wanted ta come."
"Wanted."
"Auld told me not ta leave. Said you'd be alright there, 'til mornin, and you were."
"And what if he was wrong for once? What if those boys from the Institute came back? Think they're gonna feel any remorse about breakin me, if it meant gettin at that outsider, or you?"
"It was fine."
I speak with a calm I don't feel; the fact is I spent the better part a'the night picturin what it would've meant for J if the agents had made it ta the hospital, them or someone they'd hired, off-duty cops lookin ta scrape together a little extra money or local boys with nothin better ta do. When the sun rose I was still awake, starin at the ceiling with a knot a'anxiety in my gut like a clenched fist.
"You know what your problem is?" J continues, finally managing ta get his smoke lit.
"What's that?"
"You've just gotten too comfortable with all this, lettin some invisible psychic do your thinkin for you."
"You might be right."
"Yeah. Might be. And I guess he said waitin here is safe too, that none a'them Institute boys know about this place?"
"He did."
"That doesn't inspire a lot a'confidence."
"So where else are we supposed ta go? The Institute's that interested in findin us they'll know about my place, and yours, and about anyone else we've done business with."
"Yeah," J mutters, stabbing his smoke out in the ashtray, more than half unfinished. "What do you think is goin on there anyway?"
"I don't know."
"Content just ta wait it out huh?"
"Pretty much."
"Tannin's never leased nothin, never sold contracts, and the first time they do is ta the Institute? They must a'been forced inta it, and now you tell me these invisible friends a'yours are plannin ta get in the way a'that."
"So they say."
"You think bein a part a'that is gonna do you any good, or me? What do we get out a'any a'this?"
"We get ta say we were there."
He laughs once, bitterly.
"You best wake up."
"Sleepin am I?"
"Might as well be. This isn't a fuckin game."
"No?" I ask, very casual. He looks away.
"It's done. Sellin powder is done," he says. "And we'll be lucky if we don't wind up in jail, or worse."
I shrug, and close my eyes. For a moment I try picturin myself from above, sittin here as if none a'this matters and a pair a'men in goggles hadn't just put my friend in the hospital, tryin and failin ta convince myself that I'm not afraid a'the same thing happenin ta me.
"So we find a new line a'work," I say.
"Is that what you call what Auld and his buddies are plannin? A new line a'work?"
"Not exactly."
"Because there's a word for what they've got in mind."
"Yeah?"
"It's called terrorism."
"I'm just helpin them get in."
"Since when has that boy ever needed help from us?"
He's right a'course, but that doesn't change anythin; Auld can see the future, and if he sees me guidin him and the rest a'them inta the mines that's exactly what I'm goin ta do, even if every instinct I have is tellin me ta run, ta get on the first train out a'town and never look back; there is no runnin, not from what's over the horizon. I've seen enough ta know that at least.
"It's not like I haven't been in the mines before," I say. "I want ta know what the Institute is doin here, why they're after us, and why dealin powder is suddenly such a big concern. You're afraid? Don't come."
He stands up, and for a second I think he's goin ta hit me. He opens his mouth, and then closes it. His arms fall limp, and he leaves the room without another word. I watch him go, tellin myself that he's just shaken up, that it's natural, given what he's been through, but all the same I can't help feelin disappointed. I thought he'd put up more of a fight.
I know that the best thing would be ta go after him now. Left ta wallow on his own, that boy is liable ta make rash decisions, but I don't have the time ta fix this. Instead, I stand up and leave the apartment, takin the elevator down ta the lobby. The girl workin the desk looks at me briefly, and I spare a second ta wonder how she squares my bein in a place like this, what kind a'arrangement Auld or the other two have made in order ta rent an apartment here. I don't see how it could work, unless the buildin manager or real-estate agent is on the powder. Not that I should expect anythin ta make much sense. At this point I'm beyond hopin for things like clarity.
I push through the heavy glass doors and inta a thick curtain a'snow; I can barely make out the sidewalk in front a'me. The road unrolls slowly, the houses on either side like rows a'blackened teeth in the gloom. It takes twice as long as it should ta reach a bus stop, and for a moment I allow myself ta hope that the buses might be cancelled. If they are, I'll be able ta prove Auld wrong for once, but soon enough a pair a'yellow dots appear at the head a'the street and a minute later the bus pulls up ta the curb. I get on, swallowin my resentment and payin the fare in silence.
Besides myself the bus is nearly empty, just an old drunk passed out in his seat, and a couple college girls dressed for a party. I move ta the back and close my eyes.
The girls get off at 6th Bridge, and it's just me and the drunk by the time we make it ta Norfolk. Exitin, I pass inta Northside, and in a few minutes I've reached the tenement. Inside the buildin I move down the deserted hallway and inta the boiler room. Auld and Ward are waitin for me there, flashlights in hand, the beams cuttin pale circles on the floor.
"You're late," Ward informs me.
"Bus took a while in the storm."
"We're still on schedule," says Auld mildly.
"The hole's behind the boiler," I tell them, brushin past Ward. I duck inta the tunnel, the flashlights a'the two boys behind me causin shadows ta reel crazily over the rock face. On the far side I straighten and watch as they scramble inta the chamber.
"You think those lights are wise?" I ask them.
"We're safe tonight," Auld answers softly, startin across the room ta the door. He sets a quick pace, never once askin for directions; he navigates the tunnels like he's been down here a hundred times, which given his way a'lookin at things I guess he has.
"Auld, it's pretty obvious you know where you're headed," I say.
"Is it?"
His back is a thin, pale block in the semi-dark.
"But I haven't told you the way yet."
"You will."
"And if I keep my mouth shut?"
He doesn't respond. Behind me, Ward coughs, while up ahead the corridor branches in two directions.
"It's the left," I say, the words spillin out automatically; Auld turns without breakin his stride. Ward laughs, shinin the light at my face.
"Glad we brought you along," he says. Auld switches off his light and motions for Ward ta do the same. The last thing I see before the world is swallowed in blackness is his leerin face.
r /> As we go on, my eyes begin ta adjust ta the dark, until at last I'm able ta make out a faint light up ahead. We stop at the end a'the corridor, and Auld waves me forward. Before us is the pit, but the surroundin chamber is so changed that I barely recognize it: several industrial-sized lamps have been set up, and a half-dozen mine heads in blue overalls are millin about in the brilliant light. Some are bent over a bank a'computers, while others are busy wheelin in more equipment on low carts. Next ta the pit edge is a row a'plastic containers the size a'oil drums, and not far behind them are the men from last night, the Institute's agents, gazin out at the scene through ink-black goggles.
"What is this?" I breathe. Auld doesn't respond.
The smaller a'the two agents moves ta the computers and keys somethin inta a terminal. The heads stop what they're doin, most shiftin nervously away from the pit. A sudden light blazes up from the depths, and the rock walls of the chamber and the faces a'the men watchin are all stained a sharp, electric blue; there's some scattered shoutin from the miners, and the taller agent laughs, slappin the shorter man on the back.
"Auld," I say.
"It's a gate," he announces, steppin back. "We need to leave now."
Blue light ripples over the roof a'the chamber like a reflected sheet a'water. One a'the mine heads rushes ta the Institute boys, who ignore him. I turn and follow Auld. Ward is already gone.
I can barely see in the tunnel, and I make my way forward by listenin ta the sound a'Auld's feet and the touch a'the rough stone at my side. At length we reach the room opposite the boiler. Ward has already disappeared through the hole, but Auld is standin with his flashlight in his hand, waitin for me. The tracks of our boots on the floor are like the evidence of some ancient, forgotten murder.
"Why'd you bother with this?" I ask Auld. "You must a'known what we'd find."
"I knew."
"So?"
"You needed to see it."
"If you think I'm comin back here – "
"Everything Ward told you was a lie," he says quietly, cuttin me off. "Everything. Who he is, and where we come from."
"Why are you tellin me this?"
"You'll have a choice between Ward or Irbe, and it's important that you don't make the wrong one. Don't trust Ward."
"Never thought much a'trustin any a'you."
"Just remember."
"Yeah," I say, startin down the hole. "It's important, I know."
"What's important?" asks Ward, crouchin in the dark room with his back ta the boiler.
"Not ta come back here on my own," I say. I try ta read his expression, but all I can make out is his line, a thin scar cuttin the dim plane a'his face.
"Good advice," he says. "Always pays to be careful."