Itchcraft (3 page)

They were all excited to be arriving at last, the tiredness of the day disappearing as the car climbed the dusty, pothole-filled road. Their windows down, Itch and Chloe leaned out, ignoring the clouds of dust thrown up by the four-wheel drive.

‘
Palmeitkraal mine. Danger. Keep out
,’ Itch read from a small sign by the side of the road. ‘This’ll be it, then!’

‘Four-star or five-star hotel, do you think?’ said Chloe.

They were still laughing when Itch and Chloe jumped down from the Land Rover, detectors swinging from their necks. They stood looking at the dilapidated, once-white house, the buzz of the crickets interrupted by occasional clicks from the two detectors’ tiny speakers.

‘The white bosses stayed here,’ explained Nicholas as they carried their suitcases inside. ‘There were a number of houses where the mine owners lived. The black workers lived in crummy little huts nearer the mine. Then, in the sixties, everything got shut down, and nothing’s really happened since then.’

The main living space had been cleared and swept, but that was as far as the luxuries went. At one end a battered sofa and two sagging armchairs were arranged round an old television; at the other, three camp beds leaned against the far wall, bedding bulging out of an old carrier bag.

Chloe checked her phone. ‘This is weird,’ she said. ‘Like camping indoors. No wi-fi, no signal. Nothing.’

They found a basic kitchen and usable bathroom, but the upstairs rooms seemed to have been home to too many birds and small animals.

‘Think we’ll be mostly downstairs,’ she said.

The morning after the stump-removal explosion, the Loftes were back in the car and in high spirits. This was their first trip to the mines, and even Chloe seemed to be looking forward to it.

‘This is a weird way to spend New Year’s Eve. I don’t suppose you’ve planned a party, Dad . . . There’s plenty of room in that house!’

‘We could invite all the neighbours,’ said Itch. ‘Which based on the upstairs rooms would be all the local wild dogs and a few springbok.’

Their father laughed. ‘You’re right, it does stink a bit up there,’ he said as they bounced along the track, away from the house. ‘Maybe we’ll have a quiet one on our own. We could have a braai!’

‘You what?’ asked Chloe.

‘A barbecue,’ said Nicholas. ‘We can’t leave without tasting some local Boerewors sausage or ostrich. We could get some tips from this guy we’re meeting; he’s one of Jacob Alexander’s guys from the local university. His father used to be the foreman here when the mines were cranking out small amounts of thorium. He’s going to show us around. There are a number of old shafts here which are best avoided – they’re sealed off anyway – but he’s told me there’s one that might be explorable. Might pick up some europium, you never know!’

‘So does Dr Alexander own these mines, then?’ asked Itch. ‘Is that why we can just drive where we want around here?’

They drove in silence while Nicholas thought of his answer. Eventually he said, ‘Well, you know, this is all supposed to be secret – but I’ve probably kept enough from you guys, so . . .’ He sighed. ‘Essentially we’ve more or less bought the mines for study by the local university. There’s a few paperwork issues to sort out, but I think the deal is pretty much done. There’s a lot of buzz around the gold and platinum mines, but not much here. No one is interested because they’re – officially – clapped out and dangerous. But our man here reckons otherwise. And there he is!’

Their father pointed to the T-junction ahead, then waved at a man standing by a flatbed truck. A boy sitting in the back stood and waved as Nicholas pulled up just behind them.

‘Themba, good morning! Thanks for meeting us!’ called Nicholas as he climbed out.

The other man smiled warmly. ‘Nicholas! Good to see you again!’ He was thin and slightly stooped, with tightly curled black hair that was going grey at the temples. ‘This is my son Sammy.’ The boy jumped down and stood, hands by his side, grinning. ‘Well, say something, Sammy – this is the Mr Lofte from England who I was telling you about.’

‘Hello, Mr Lofte,’ said Sammy, still smiling. ‘It is nice to meet you.’

They shook hands formally, and then Itch and Chloe came over.

‘Itch, Chloe, this is Themba Motsei and his son Sammy. Themba’s going to head up our work at the mines here.’

They all shook hands and nodded politely.

‘How old are you both?’ asked Themba.

‘I’m twelve and Itch is fifteen,’ said Chloe. ‘How about you, Sammy?’

The boy squirmed and smiled some more. ‘I’m thirteen,’ he said softly. Then, ‘Do you like Manchester City?’ He pointed to his pale blue football shirt.

Nicholas and Themba started laughing, but Itch and Chloe looked baffled.

‘I don’t really follow football,’ Itch said awkwardly. Sammy looked disappointed. ‘I don’t dislike it,’ he added quickly. ‘I just don’t really have an opinion one way or another. Some boys at school like them, I think. And Manchester United. And Chelsea . . .’

‘Itch, don’t try and talk football,’ said Chloe. ‘We’ll find other stuff to talk about.’

They all climbed into the truck – Nicholas and Themba in the cab at the front; Sammy, Itch and Chloe in the open box at the back. An assortment of packing cases was strapped down at the far end.

The truck’s progress was slow; the holes in the road made any speed above five mph extremely dangerous. Itch and Chloe clung to the sides of the truck.

Sammy smiled again. ‘You ridden like this before?’

Itch and Chloe both shook their heads.

‘It’s the best way. Even if the whole mine area is full of holes and very bad roads.’

‘Do you know where we are going?’ said Itch.

‘My father says we are going to the Hewitt B mine. That’s OK – at least you don’t need the radiation suits there.’

Itch and Chloe glanced at each other. ‘Is there a Hewitt A mine?’

The smile again. ‘Yes. An A, C and D. We don’t go there too much. But B is fun. You’ll see. Why are you wearing those Geiger counters?’

‘You know about these things?’ said Itch, holding up his yellow, clicking metal box.

‘Sure,’ said Sammy. ‘Dad brings that stuff home all the time. We’ve played around with them, but you’re wearing them like necklaces.’

‘It’s a long story,’ said Chloe, tucking hers away down the front of her T-shirt.

Sammy took the hint and didn’t question them further.

The truck pulled up, and they turned to see Themba unlocking a huge padlock and unwinding a chain that linked the two large iron gates. A large sign screwed to the bars said,
HEWITT B MINE. CONTROLLED AREA. NO UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY
. Nicholas joined him to push the gates open, and when both men had returned to the truck, they trundled slowly into a rock-strewn field.

Itch and Chloe knew a deserted mine when they saw one – they had plenty back home in Cornwall. There were the telltale spoil heaps of earth and stone that had been dug up and left, unwanted, in loose hills by each shaft. Rusty and decaying winding towers stood by a series of ugly concrete buildings. However, the sheer scale of the operation was new to them – it extended for miles, mostly downhill from where they stood. Areas of dense dark-green shrub were littered with patches of brown, broken rocks. A number of burned-out houses stood a few hundred metres away.

‘That where the miners lived?’ asked Chloe.

Sammy shook his head. ‘Whites only. The miners were in shacks.’ He pointed to heaps of corrugated iron and wood nearby. ‘They all fell down. Even my grandpa’s.’

The road, such as it was, circled round to a concreted area which looked new. Clean and swept, it too was surrounded by barbed wire, iron posts and
NO ENTRY
signs. An irregular double
click
from under Chloe’s T-shirt made her jump and she caught Itch’s eye.

‘That won’t be anything, Chloe – we aren’t near enough any rock—’

‘I’m still telling Dad,’ she said, and as the truck slowed to a stop, she was the first to jump down.

Nicholas and Themba listened as Chloe told them about the extra clicks from the radiation detector.

Themba nodded. ‘The thorium-rich mines are on the other side of the hill, Chloe. Many, many years ago there were tiny amounts of thorium here, but now the mine has been cleansed and tested and given the all-clear. The old buildings are being torn down and buried under clay because of their radioactivity. I’ve taken my Geiger counter right down this mine and there were no surprising readings. The shaft is completely restored. I wouldn’t bring Sammy if it wasn’t safe.’

Chloe looked reassured. ‘OK. What happens now?’

‘Themba and I are going to do some tests on some of the rock about fifty metres into the mine here,’ said Nicholas.

‘What are you looking for?’ asked Itch.

‘It’s monazite,’ Themba told him. ‘Looks like this.’ He produced a small reddish-brown pebble from his pocket. ‘I got this from here. Should contain some lanthanum and almost all the rare earths.’

‘And thorium? That would make it radioactive, wouldn’t it?’ Chloe stepped back. ‘That’s where my extra click came from!’

‘Give me your radiation counter,’ said Nicholas, and she pulled it out from under her T-shirt. It swung on the end of her hand and he caught it. Themba held out the monazite as Nicholas closed in with the detector.

‘Listen,’ he said. At a distance of one metre, there was a click every ten seconds. He stepped to within ten centimetres of the rock – still no increase in clicks. It was only when the counter and the rock were almost touching that the frequency increased.

‘Probably just a little more radiation than a banana!’ said Themba.

He was expecting surprise from Itch and Chloe, but instead got only rueful smiles. They had been told about radioactive bananas by an element dealer called Cake.

Chloe took the counter back, and Themba threw the monazite to Itch. ‘Have a look,’ he said.

‘OK – well, is it valuable, then?’ said Chloe, glancing only briefly at the pebble in Itch’s hand.

Themba laughed. ‘Actually, most rare earth elements aren’t rare; they’re just difficult to tell apart and isolate—’

‘Wait – so they’re not even rare?’ said Chloe, incredulous. ‘What’s the big deal, then?’

‘Well, they might be difficult to extract – but, for example, the magnets they give us are used in electronic devices . . . computers, phones, electric cars . . . You only need tiny amounts, but they’re very powerful.’

Itch could tell that his sister had lost interest; it was only the presence of Themba and Sammy that had stopped her going back to the truck.

‘Could I help?’ said Itch. ‘You said it was safe . . .’

His father and Themba looked at each other. ‘Sure,’ said Nicholas, smiling. ‘Why not? Bring the boxes from the truck and we’ll get started.’

‘And what are Sammy and I doing, then?’ asked Chloe.

‘I’ll show you round if you like,’ said Sammy. ‘It’s more interesting out here anyway – some of the bosses’ houses have still got old equipment in. I found an old assegai there once . . . A spear,’ he added, seeing Chloe’s puzzled face.

‘Cool,’ she said, suddenly interested, and followed him towards the burned-out buildings. ‘Hey, Sammy, catch!’ she called, and threw her ball at him.

Itch climbed up into the truck and lifted the first crate.

‘Careful, Itch,’ called his father. ‘Portable spectrometers are expensive!’

Itch had seen an X-ray fluorescence spectrometer used to analyse the 126, but that machine had been huge. ‘Really? In here?’ he said, and gently placed it on the floor of the truck. He jumped down, then eased the box into his arms.

The entrance to the mine was housed in a new steel building, and Itch set the spectrometer down in the doorway. He emptied the contents of the truck in a few trips, and walked back for the last few tools. He glanced at Chloe and Sammy: they were some distance away now, chasing her ball down the slope. They had passed a number of small spoil heaps, and were now throwing the ball around the bottom of a fifteen-metre mound of mine rubble. He had run over one himself back in Cornwall, and he remembered how precarious they were. As he watched, Chloe missed a catch and the ball bounced and rolled onto a ledge of small rocks, halfway up the heap.

Itch was suddenly filled with foreboding and took a step forward. ‘Chloe!’ he called. ‘That’s not safe! You should—’

The spoil heap sagged and, as he watched, a slash of black appeared below the ledge. The ball, ledge and Chloe dropped out of sight as though a trapdoor had opened.

It was over in seconds. One minute Chloe was on the side of the spoil heap; the next, it had swallowed her up. The crevasse that had opened was instantly filled with rocks that poured down from above. The surface already appeared smooth again – it was as though she’d never been there.

‘CHLOE!’ yelled Itch. ‘
Dad, now!
’ He grabbed a spade from the truck and ran for the spoil heap, his detector swinging wildly. His eyes never left the patch of brown earth and stones where his sister had been playing just seconds before. Sammy was already scrabbling his way up the side of the heap, but the loose rocks kept giving way beneath his urgent feet; he would climb two metres, then fall back three.

‘Chloe, we’re coming!’ Itch shouted as he leaped onto the first stones, but he was making the same mistake as Sammy. The loose rocks, stones and soil gave way beneath his steps, sending him crashing to the ground. His hands and knees took most of the impact and he dropped the spade. As his body scraped the rocks, a torrent of clicks came from the radiation detector.

Itch froze.

Radiation.

After his prolonged contact with the 126, Itch had come close to receiving a lethal dose of radiation. Blood transfusions, antibiotics and a bone-marrow transplant had saved him, but he had been warned that any future contact could be fatal – he just wasn’t strong enough to take it. Face down on the jagged stones, his heart rate matched the rapid clicks. He heard his father’s pounding feet and pushed himself up.

‘Dad! It was a landslide! Chloe’s in there!’ He pointed to where the ledge had been. ‘But this is all radioactive – listen!’ He held his counter on the ground, and the click-barrage began again.