Gardiner Harris - Hazard

Minotaur Books New York

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

HAZARD. Copyright 2010 by Gardiner Harris. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martins Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

[http://www.minotaurbooks.com] www.minotaurbooks.com

Harris, Gardiner.

Hazard / Gardiner Harris.1st ed.

p. cm.

ISBN 978-0-312-57016-3

1. Coal mines and miningKentuckyFiction. 2. Mine accidentsFiction. 3. Accident investigationFiction. 4. BrothersFiction. 5. Family secretsFiction. I. Title

PS3608.A78285H39 2010

First Edition: March 2010

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

F irst, Im grateful for the patience of my wife. Writing this book increased the burdens on her, and I couldnt have done it without her support. The book also results from my years writing from Hazard, and I wouldnt have been much of a reporter if not for the help of many. Among them are Hunt Helm, who got me ready to go to Hazard; David Hawpe, who sent me there; and Lee Mueller, Ken Ward, Jr., and Paul Nyden, who made me a better reporter while I was there.

I n a space less than five feet high, Amos Blevins rode a shrieking, convulsing mining machine that clawed coal out of a worked-out vein more than fifteen stories underground. The walls left behind barely supported the roof.

A mountain of rock hung suspended above him as he tunneled away at its base. The mine was murky, dense with black dust and barely lit by a few lights and headlamps. To reduce the risk of coal-dust explosions, the walls were coated in chalky limestone, making them look frozenlike a black-and-white photo of an arctic night.

Ears covered, Amos felt the machines roar more than heard it. Sound waves bathed him from every direction. They made a drum of his sternum, massaged his organs and fought the very rhythm of his hearton occasion, making him gasp.

And always there was the dust. It could swallow him up and nearly drown him. Like most miner men, he couldnt work with a mask or respirator because it clogged far too often. He hated the dust that filled his mouth, clogged his breath, and hardened his snot.

But sometimes, being enveloped by the dust made him feel as if hed joined the mountain in some intermediate stage between existence and oblivion. The feeling brought a blend of sadness and wonder, the way he sometimes felt standing over a dying buck.

The mountain seemed to wake up, struggle, and surrender its black soul.

He backed the machines studded drum away from the coal, and the effect was broken. He figured hed cut forty feet from the last crosscut, twice what the law allowed. He pulled the giant machine away from the wall and, as always, did it a little too quickly.

He knew that he was no more likely to get crushed in a roof fall while backing out than while digging ahead. But hed known a guy who was killed while in reverse. The men with him had said that, with just a few more seconds, he would have lived. Amos didnt want to die like that. He wanted to be fully into the mountain when it gave way so thered be no doubt, no what-ifs for Glenda.

Coal mine roofs stay up in part because miners leave behind columns of coal as supports, making the mine a series of tunnels and cross tunnels that, when mapped, look like city blocks. More support comes when men on roof-bolting machines drill yard-long screws into the ceiling, cementing several layers of overhead rock together.

Amos sat in the small operators chair stuck under a canopy on the side of the machine, which was the shape of a huge brick with a studded roll on its front. Barrel-chested, he wore black coveralls, a miners helmet, headlamp, and a coat of grime that blacked out the gray in his shoulder-length hair and full beard. The whites and shiny wetness of his eyes were the only contrast to the dull black that enveloped him and erased the creases from his fifty-year-old face.

Amos knew he didnt have to worry about backing into his helper. The kid stayed well behind him, never venturing under unbolted roof. Made the job harder for Amos. He didnt have anyone just over his shoulder to guide him. The kid was jumpy as a cat. Amos had heard that his girlfriend had just given birth to a son.

No man can work every day in terror. Either the kid would quit or hed give himself up to the mountain. Amos wished that hed get on with doing one or the other.

Amos backed the miner left into the crosscut. Steaming, the drum smelled of battery acid and barbecue. He put the miner into forward and headed right, across the face of the coal.

Amos glanced behind him and saw Rob Crane drive up on a wide, low-slung cart. Rob was one of several scoop operators in the mine who ferried coal from Amoss machine back to the mines conveyor belt.

Amos signaled with his hand that he was continuing on, and Rob nodded and then broke into a wide grin. Amos raised his hands in question. Rob pointed at the kid and then laughed. Amos shrugged.

It was a running joke in the mine. Amos often brought game for dinner, which turned the kids stomach. Today, he had packed the grilled half-carcass of a possum, an animal akin to a huge rat. At dinner, he had cut away portions of the eighteen-inch stalk of bone and meat with a pocket knife, blood and grease dripping into his beard.

As usual, the kid had stared at Amos with a mixture of fascination and horror. The rest of the crew had watched in silence, waiting. Finally, the kid said, Jesus, and crawled off to eat his dinner elsewhere. Several crew members had chuckled, but Rob had hooted with laughter that kept on bubbling out of him.

His laughter wasnt the only thing that set Rob apart. Rob was black, a rarity in Appalachian coal mines.

Amos watched Robs mouth appear and disappear as he laughed, and Amos smiled despite himself. Amos turned the machine into the coal face to continue mining. He looked around again. No sign of their foreman, Mike Barnes. Wondering what Mike did all day, Amos started the machines drum spinning and edged the miner forward into the coal. The roar began again.

Amos began at floor level and gradually moved the drum up five feet to the roof. When the teeth started to spark on the rock layer above the coal, Amos eased the drum back down and moved the miner machine forward. Rob edged his scoop forward and coupled with the miner so that Amoss machine would disgorge its coal.

Amos made it about twenty feet into his cut when a block of coal about the size of a stove shot out of the wall and grazed the miners canopy before it crashed into the machines tail and rolled on toward Rob.

Amos turned to see where the block had gone. He saw the rock first and then Rob, somewhat to the side and underneath it, slapping it with his left forearm.

And behind the scoop he saw the kid, pinned to a mine rib by a column of water. Amos realized that water was pouring out of a hole in the mine wall, pushing him back against the canopys supports. Amos fought against the pressure but couldnt get out. He put both hands on the canopy support before him and pulled against the force of the water. He slid his left leg out of the seat, ducked his head out from under the canopy, and was immediately swept back.