The Final Shortcut (8 page)

“Well, you want me to cook something or would you like to go back to town and eat?” Marty knew what he would say before he even opened his mouth.

“I’m still having nightmares from the last time you tried something different. Remember?”

Marty tried to act hurt but he couldn’t hold it, “It wasn’t that bad was it?” Junior didn’t answer.

“Let me get my homework and I can study while you play darts.”

The home style cooking at “The Corral” was good as always. The kitchen closed after supper and the adjacent bar took over the dining area. Junior had studied there often enough that he was allowed to sit in the kitchen where it was quiet. Christy, one of the waitresses, left him a pitcher of tea and a big slice of pecan pie. Meanwhile Dad ordered another beer for himself and Clyde. They often spent the evening talking and playing darts.

“You ready for another match?” Clyde swigged his beer as he walked back toward Marty.

“No, I think I’ll sit this one out.” Marty took a couple healthy glugs from his glass and sat down. “I swear, one day I’m gonna take off and go live in the tropics.”

Clyde rolled his eyes, “You keep saying that and you might even believe it, you ain’t never gonna leave this mountain. What would you do?”

“I would lie on the beach and let everybody just wonder what happened to me. I’ve got plenty money stashed, enough to set myself up. Junior can take care of himself now; I just ain’t got any more patience left. She makes me so mad sometimes I could scream.” Marty downed the rest of his beer and waved for Christy for another.

“You’re not gonna drive home any time soon, are you? You’ve only had about eight beers.” Marty started to say something sarcastic, but he knew his best friend had is safety in mind. “No, Junior can drive better than me. You know that.” Clyde waved off Christy before she could get to the table and Marty didn’t act like he noticed. He was in an agitated state, something he did quite often lately.

“You shouldn’t get so worked up about it, can’t you get her to see what’s happening to you.” Clyde put his hand on Marty’s shoulder as he stood up.

“I’ve tried to get her to stop but she just explodes on me and says I’m sleeping with every female within forty miles, you’ve heard her. She’s so paranoid about everything, says I’m not sensitive to her needs.” Marty stood up and stretched. “Maybe you could arrest her supplier. You know who they are.”

Clyde put his hands on his hips and looked hard at him, “I can’t prove anything without dragging both of you through the mud. Besides I turned my back on your business for years.” They both made their way out the door stopping and sitting on the patrol car to get some fresh air.

“I got some money stashed, I’m gonna just haul ass one day…I swear!” Junior came out a few minutes later; he took one look at him and held out his hand for the keys. Marty smiled, “You’re a good boy, thoughtful and kind. Don’t ever get married though, unless you find an angel, or a sainted virgin, or a….” He lost his train of thought, rambling from the effects of a couple too many beers.

“Don’t worry Dad. I won’t.” Junior helped his beleaguered father in the truck and trotted around to the drivers’ side. Marty was nearly napping as they drove home, Junior couldn’t help but think about what his father said. He wouldn’t marry any girl except Celeste, and he knew she would come around sooner or later. It would only take a little while for him to impress her, and to show her what a real loser Wesley was. The warm night air blew through the windows as they drove. It was mid-April and the seasons were changing fast. A time when all God’s creature’s thoughts to turn to love. Junior was already imagining what a date with his dream girl would be like. “Just give it some time. She’ll come around.” He spoke to himself and smiled, confident in his dreams.

The sun rose early the next morning and Junior was out early enjoying the day. It wasn’t hunting season right now but he dearly enjoyed his family spread. He had bought a new dirt bike and he spent endless hours riding through the hills, finding new trails. Looking for game signs and new hunting spot. Today as he wandered about, he decided to check out the construction on the interstate. Which would be finished soon. From a vantage point on a nearby hill he could see straight down the roadbed. It was going to come very near to their property before turning uphill and to the right. This would make his store more accessible and more profitable. As he sat and looked around, he could see dust flying up from the nearby road. It was the road that led toward the Groomes home. He could see Wesley in his new Mustang flying around turns and spinning his wheels, his favorite past time. He had heard through the grapevine that the loser was going off to college in the fall and he knew that then he would be able to win Celeste away from him. Wesley was almost three years older than her and Junior was sure it was only a matter of time. “Don’t drive too fast punk. You wouldn’t want to wreck your Daddy’s new car.” He spoke out loud and crossed his fingers in a mocking gesture. He whistled a little tune and started back home. Maybe Dad would be up now. They had planned to go exploring on the newest part of their land, now almost seven hundred acres. There was supposed to be an old coal mine on it somewhere and Junior couldn’t wait to see if they could find it.

After two months of searching Marty and his look alike had found remnants of a sign pointing to the employee parking lot. By intensifying their search they found several more markers and eventually the mine itself. And today they were set to check it out. However, it had been sealed. Rocks and debris completely covered the opening.

“That’s what they had to do I reckon, to keep anybody from getting lost or killed in there.” Junior stood next to his father and studied the blocked passage, wishing for an opening. He stood just more than six feet tall and weighed in at two hundred ten pounds, just a hair shorter but half a foot wider than his Dad.

“You think it’s deep. I mean could we possibly find a way in?” Junior climbed onto the pile closely scrutinizing it.

“Oh, I doubt we could get through there without a bulldozer. I would imagine they used a good bit of dynamite.”

“You think so? It almost looks like this dirt was pushed over the top; it may not have been blasted.” Junior climbed even higher pushing a few rocks out of the way. “Either way we won’t get in this way. Hey!” Junior turned around excited. “Maybe there’s an air shaft somewhere. They had to have air shafts to vent the mine with.”

“Let’s go get the truck and see if we can get up atop of that ridge, there‘s bound to be an access road or what‘s left of it. I think it‘s been twenty...twenty-five years …” Marty didn’t even finish his sentence before Junior was down the debris pile and jogging away toward the truck. “You coming?” Junior laughed as he yelled back at his Dad, “I don’t want to leave you behind.” Marty followed at a walk, whistling as he twirled the keys around his finger.

The day got away from them but they returned the next morning as soon as it was light enough to drive safely. They ambled their way through the hills looking for any hint of a trail, slowly wandering about while the sun rose higher in the sky. Then Marty found a rusty screwdriver stuck in a tree and they took it to be a marker, then they saw the path. Only ninety yards off the road but completely hidden in the trees. On a flat ridge between some large rock formations, was a ghost of a trail leading uphill, where they found another decrepit warning sign. Marty took one look and slapped his thigh, “Caution! …Now if that ain’t a clue….” Marty started and Junior finished.

“I don’t know what is.” They both took baby steps as they began searching again, scanning every detail, crouching, circling, slowly working away from each other. Surrounded by heavy brush Junior found a flat, rectangular spot devoid of any growth, covered with moss and some very old trash. He stepped in to get a closer look and the bottom fell out from under him. The rotted wood hardly made a sound when it fell into a thousand pieces, plunging him into darkness. A tangle of roots scratched and grabbed at him, he desperately clawed the air, pin wheeling madly. The air-shaft was only six feet around, but completely vertical. He slammed the wall hard; his right knee bounced off a rock and hooked his foot under a root. Yanking him to a halt, upside down. He smacked against the dirt face first. Grasping a protruding rock he pulled up with both hands. He was wedged on the side nearly twenty feet down.

“DAD! HELP!” His shouts were muted by the long hole; his breath came in short pants. His foot was hurting, maybe broken. He could taste blood from a gash over his right eye. “DAD!” To his amazement Marty’s silhouette leaned over the edge.

“You down there?”

“Dad, help…I’m stuck …”

“DON’T MOVE!” Without thinking he immediately started to climb down after Junior, holding on to roots and feeling with his feet for support. He had only gone eight feet when a loose rock gave way causing him to plummet straight down colliding into Junior. Forcing them both to the bottom thirty feet below. Banging against the side of the hole and ripping through more rotted support timbers slowed them down enough so they didn’t free fall. Marty came to rest on the floor of the mine, on his back. His right leg grotesquely turned under him, obviously broken. Junior had landed square on top of him, his face only inches from his father‘s. Neither was quick to move. Yet they both breathed heavily, gasping and coughing, Gagged by the storm of dirt and dust in the air. Marty’s head began throbbing, the pain was so intense he couldn’t help but cry out. “Aaauugh….”

Junior managed to move off to the side, weakly attempting to aid his father.

“DAD!…talk to me… DAD! He was near panic as he felt in the dark, scrutinizing every inch of Marty looking for injuries.

“Auugh…my head…my head.” Marty gritted each word through clenched teeth. His pain was unimaginable. Junior worked his hand carefully under Marty’s neck and found blood flowing through his hair to the ground. Gently probing behind his right ear, he felt a tear in the scalp nearly three inches long. His skull exposed, a small crack oozing blood freely. Marty had stopped speaking, his body slumping in his son’s arms.

“DAD! DAD! DAD!” Junior stared into the blackness, holding on to Marty, desperately wanting to do something. When he tried to get up, he discovered the extent of his own injuries, pain grinding from every moving part of his body. He immediately pulled off his shirt, tore off a sleeve and quickly wrapped it around Marty’s head. Every small motion causing them both great agony. He wasted no time ripping the rest of his shirt into strips and successfully stopped his dads’ bleeding. Neither of them had any water nor weapons other than a lighter and a small penknife used more for trimming fingernails than survival. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the murky dark conditions and he could begin to distinguish features around him.

They were in a small tunnel, lying on a bed of dirt, rocks and dust, more upright timbers were looming out of the dark, holding up a roof of stone overhead. A spot of distant light from the sky above was not enough to see more than ten feet, but enough for him to see the death in his fathers’ face. “Dad, speak to me dad.”

Marty grabbed Junior’s arm and gave him a meager squeeze, his voice calm belying the seriousness of his condition. “Still here…. Not going anyplace…my flashlight.” Junior gasped, suddenly remembering the penlight on Marty’s key ring, probing lightly till he retrieved it. “Water.” Marty coughed hoarsely, trying not to move, his head began to throb madly causing him to tense his entire body tight. Junior held the little light over his father, feeling lost and afraid. His rationale was leaving him. Confusion overtook his better senses, his vision began to blur and he felt as if he were watching a scene in a sixty’s film noir. “Water.” Marty croaked weakly, unaware that his words passed unheard. Junior expression never changed as he slowly rose to his feet, never gave any sign of pain or awareness. He stood motionless, staring at a focal point somewhere between the two of them, then without a word he turned to the left and moved off into the gloom. The penlight soon depleted. Juniors’ instincts drove him to ignore his agonizing body and search for anything to help. Slowly regaining some control of himself, he was able to find some loose coal and enough splinters of wood to make a small smoky fire. He kept hearing water dripping but as yet hadn’t found any, not wanting to wander very far from Marty. His key chain flashlight barely gave off enough light to see his feet. The tunnel they were in led to a junction area where a few sets of rails met and split into separate tunnels leading away. He had only ventured a few yards down each before he encountered more tunnels. One had an elevator shaft leading up and down, pitch dark both ways. The metal framework rusted through, it crumbled easily as he bent a piece back and forth.

He rushed to his fathers’ side every ten minutes to insure he was still alive. Needing him to stay alive, unable to think of losing him. Marty was the center of his life, his constant companion, “You still there Daddy?” Juniors’ tears had formed two dirty streaks down his face, his voice full of dread at not getting an answer. Marty found the strength to respond each time, reassurance in his voice.

“Still here…”

A rusted out wheelbarrow provided a solid enough handle so he could make a torch by hanging the rubber tire on the end. The rubber was cracked and brittle but it still burned bright enough to help him explore. He used a piece of metal to scratch arrows into the walls as he plundered the rest of the mine. Carefully scrutinizing every inch for something of use. Many times he stopped and listened for the dripping sound, finding and losing the echoes as he trundled about. His instincts took over. His mind a jumble. At the end of one of the tunnels, nearly a hundred yards from Marty, was another vertical shaft much bigger than the first. Yawning widely it seemed big enough for a rail car to fit through. He could barely discern where the edges were. But the dripping water was so near he could feel moisture in the air. He felt around every rock hoping for a wet spot. Reaching as far into the dark chasm as he could, finding nothing but damp earth. There were some loose rocks on the ground so he kicked one into the hole, after a long pause there was a distant splash. Then, as if in a dream he saw a ridge around the edge of the shaft. Big enough for him to cross to the other side if he could manage to step up the two feet to the edge. Carefully extending his sore foot out and up he managed to get a purchase on the ledge. Painfully he stepped up and succeeded in attaching himself to the muddy wall. He only had around three inches of rock and dirt to hold him up. It crumbled some as he made his way across the rim of the pitch black abyss, nearly thirty feet wide. After a few heart-pounding seconds he finally collapsed to the floor on the other side. Rolling over in blessed relief, he flopped out his arms and splashed into a pool of cool, clear water. A steady supply of water flowed from an unseen source, splashing loudly in the ghostly silent chamber. The pool extended beyond the range of his dwindling torch and the bank sloped away from him at a gentle angle, making it possible for him to immerse the top half of his body. He drank deeply, rolled over on his back and lie there soaking in the liquid through his pores. Not sure how long it had been since he’d had a drink. The makeshift torch was beginning to fall apart causing him to rely on the key chain flashlight to find his way back. Junior wearily scouted around looking for anything to hold water but came up short, not so much as a tin can. He decided to use his cowboy boots as containers, anything that could help him get some water back to Marty.