Algorithm - Book 1 - The Medallion

Chapter 5

Luke!  He had been talking about the water yesterday.

She felt light-headed and alone despite the sea of hundreds milling about. She moved away from the jammed-up gates and found a corner to the side where she watched developments unfold. Volunteers allowed into the colliery grounds organized into groups and moved away toward the mine shafts. Everyone else continued to press at the gates, chattering among themselves, desperately seeking information about their loved ones. That information would eventually come, but not now, as now was the time to begin searching, and for Hedda to begin a long wait. As the seconds turned to minutes, and edged their way to hours, the mob broke up into smaller and quieter groups.

The news came in the form of random announcements over a crackling loudspeaker. The waters from the river had indeed invaded the mines, and although the extent of the flooding was still unknown, it appeared to be widespread, even affecting mining shafts beyond the Knox network. Time crawled. It was apparent that many working in the mines at the time of the incident were found and would soon be joining their families outside the gates. Hedda watched quietly, as miners lucky enough to be far from the flooding were the first to join their loved ones, greeted by cheers from the waiting crowd. Thereafter, smaller groups, either the last to emerge from the flooded shafts or the first rescued, made their way to the gates amid sporadic applause. Her heart leaped when she saw Mihal and Herman emerge from the gates.

However, when Mihal caught Hedda's eyes he shook his head. Herman avoided looking at her altogether. She ran to Mihal as he was being smothered by kisses from his wife, and fought to keep her voice steady. "Mihal. Do you know where Luke is? Did you see him?"

Mihal turned to her, and replied almost apologetically. "Hedda. I don't know. He were deep in the mine when it happened, and I was pushin' one o' the buggies. I were near the entrance when the water started comin' out. I'm sorry Hedda, I just don't know what happened to him."

Seeing Hedda's tears and her mouth straining against outright sobbing, Mihal added,

"Luke's a smart one, Hedda. He'll make it. You'll see."

Mihal was shoved away from the gates, by his family and friends, leaving Hedda to her lone vigil. Despite the news, she resolved to remain brave and hopeful, standing her ground in the waning afternoon light. Whether it was the chill, or her mounting anxiety, she could do little to prevent herself from shaking under her oversized coat. Her bedroom slippers were cold and wet. The shakes would come in waves, triggered by frustration and disappointment following each emerging group of miners saved from the bitter cold waters of the Susquehanna.

By early evening, an official of the company came to the gate with information. They were trying to fill in the hole from the river side, but that was proving to be fruitless, as the breach was very wide. The names of fifty-two unaccounted miners were announced and the list included Luke. Shouts of outrage and grief-laden howling met the news, peppered with questions aimed at the forlorn and clearly exhausted official. He explained that rescue workers were entering interconnecting passageways leading toward the most flooded shafts, hoping to reach the trapped workers. These operations were going to take some time, and that everyone should go back home until more information became available. He handed out sheets of paper and asked that everyone write down their names and phone numbers, and once again, suggested that all should go home since the late afternoon was turning toward a darker and colder evening. Hedda stood at the gate, numb with anxiety and numb with the cold. She did not want to leave. She was not going to give up on Luke. However, as she watched small groups of people leaving the gates with heads bowed in grief, holding on to each other and silently walking back to their homes, she reluctantly decided to go back to hers, now an empty house, mentally preparing herself with each morbid step for the worst.

***

No phone call came. No whistle blew. The evening had settled in and Hedda sat in her living room, alone. The needlework lay at her feet untouched, exactly where she had dropped it a lifetime ago. Once in a while, she would get up and try the company emergency number, only to get a busy signal. She could not find the energy to cook anything, nor to tidy up the house—chores which would normally take her mind off daily problems. She only sat and looked through the window as the street lamps and neighbors' windows gradually lit up. The street was empty of traffic, empty of people, as everyone in town hunkered down with their families and awaited the news they knew would eventually come.

It was nearly nine in the evening when Hedda awoke. She was shaking. The coal stove had burned itself out. She had momentarily given in to a fatigue born of unforgiving tension, but now she was alert in the extreme. The shadow of her window frame moved across the far wall of the living room and she turned to see a vehicle approaching over the rise. It stopped at a house several blocks away. Her nearsightedness made it difficult to see clearly, but she did make out two men carrying a bundle and dropping it on a porch.

My God!  It's the Black Maria!

They were delivering bodies. The two men got back in and the truck started trundling toward her. They stopped once again, about a block away, and once again, delivered a sad cargo to a waiting porch. This time, people emerged from their house and Hedda heard a shriek followed by disjointed wailing, as they carried the body inside. The Black Maria started up again. Hedda shrank from the window, and turned away.

She sat and listened.

Please, please God, don't let them stop at my porch.

The sinister squeal of worn out brakes heralded its arrival, followed by the sounds of two doors closing. There was a brief, quiet murmur of conversation. The doors sounded again. And the Maria motored off into the distance. Hedda could not bring herself to turn around, to stand up and look down through the window at the bundle left for her to discover. She would not let the thought that Luke had perished enter her mind.

It could not be. It would not be.

With great effort she stood up, turned and peered through the window. She saw nothing on the porch. She turned on the porch lights to make sure, and a figure suddenly emerged from the side of the window. Disheveled hair, sooty streaks across his face, and a grin from ear to ear. It was Luke. Hedda passed out, falling into the welcoming arms of her living room sofa.