Gonzalez didn’t miss a beat. “We were just gossiping and doing our nails down here in the dark, waiting for you to drop in,” she retorted.
“Women…” Lewis mumbled as he held up the lantern, slowly switching it from one side to the other, allowing everyone to get a look in both directions.
“That way,” Samantha said, pointing in the direction towards the river. She immediately turned to lead the way, wading through the water.
They walked as quickly as possible, knowing they had only a limited amount of time before the cabin burned to the ground and the gunmen began searching for them. The path angled slowly downward, the water deepening as they proceeded, soon requiring everyone to swim. Breathing heavily due to the effort, Lewis kicked hard to swim with the lantern extended over his head. They rounded a gentle bend and were done. The tunnel just ended. Gonzalez held her breath, diving under to search the bottom but came up empty, unable to find an escape route.
“I meant, that way,” Samantha said, smiling sheepishly while pointing back the way they had come. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Lewis said with a shake of his head. “I always think it is better to quickly eliminate an incorrect route than it is to spend a lot of time proceeding forward, not knowing if the other way might have been better.”
Samantha again led the way, this time going even faster to make up for lost time. It took only a couple minutes to get back to where they started, stopping briefly to listen to the raging fire above before pushing on into the unknown.
The water began to recede as they started up the new passage, rounding the first turn. Continuing upward, the path became completely dry after the first hundred yards. Not having to wade allowed the team to make much faster progress. Unfortunately, the faster progress only got them to another dead end faster. They were in a quarter-mile long crack that was sealed at both ends. The only way out was back through the gunman-guarded inferno above.
Samantha almost crumbled at the sight of the solid rock face in front of them. It seemed like so much of her daily existence had revolved around being trapped by rock.
Lewis, on the other hand, was not the least bit interested in the wall ahead. His focus was instead drawn to a small pile of mining equipment sitting off to one side. Most of the items were simple tools that he recognized like shovels, a couple of pickaxes, a sledgehammer, and a long metal rod that Lewis knew was used to pound holes into the rock for sticks of dynamite. And this led to the key ingredient to Lewis’s quickly forming plan: next to the metal rod was a wooden crate that still housed eight sticks of dynamite.
Gonzalez shook her head after following Lewis’s gaze. “That stuff might blow at the slightest touch,” she warned.
“Well then, it’s a good thing we have an explosives expert,” Lewis replied while pointing to Samantha.
Samantha turned her attention from the wall to the wooden crate of dynamite. She instantly fought off the depression that had moments ago nearly overwhelmed her. “That stuff is a little before my time.” She knelt by the box, gingerly touching one of the sticks. “These have been here for a while. They haven’t made dynamite with sawdust like this since before I was born. See the crystals on the edges here? That’s where nitroglycerine has sweated out of the sawdust and then crystallized on the outside of the paper. That’s not good. These sticks are extremely unstable.” She gave the box another look then stood to face the others, saying, “I don’t suppose we have many other options though.”
“Will they still explode?” Gonzalez asked.
Samantha nodded slowly, taking a step back from the crate before saying, “Yes, they are actually more explosive now than when they were made.” Tilting her head to the side, she added, “The trick is to place them without blowing yourself up.”
“I destroyed my grandfather’s rowboat with a similar stick,” Lewis said with a faraway look in his eyes. “It slipped out of my hand by accident while unloading after a fishing trip.”
Gonzalez and Samantha looked at each other and shook their heads, both bewildered by this new information. There wasn’t enough time to go into details now, so Gonzalez simply asked, “You were fishing with dynamite?”
Lewis chuckled. “Grandpa was more into the catching than the releasing.” He then pushed the fond memories aside, the faraway look morphing back into complete concentration. “Here’s my plan,” Lewis began before quickly running through what he had in mind.
Using the word “plan” to describe what Lewis had in mind turned out to be a bit misleading. It was more of a collection of wild thoughts bound together by threads of insanity. Gonzalez and Samantha were becoming ever more convinced that Lewis’s goal was simply to kill all three of them before the gunmen got the chance.
They had to act fast. If Pierre’s men discovered the mine shaft, Lewis and the girls would be sitting ducks. Samantha went to work on the dynamite, gently testing each stick to make sure it could move freely and was intact enough to pick up. Luck was finally on their side; all eight sticks appeared to be usable.
While Samantha was checking the explosives, Gonzalez and Lewis worked together to remove the wooden handles from three of the shovels. They discarded the handles and kept the blades. The insanity was about to begin.
Working as quickly as possible, Samantha slid a single stick of dynamite into the open hole at the end of each shovel blade, gently smashing the nitroglycerine and sawdust into the space that had been formerly occupied by the handle. Lewis carefully took each blade, packing in a handful of small rocks. Gonzalez ripped the sleeves of Lewis’s shirt, making rags to cover the ends of the gravel-filled blades, tying them in place to keep the ammunition inside.
Samantha used another strip of Lewis’s shirt to tie four of the sticks of dynamite together in a single bundle. This bundle, along with the three loaded shovel blades and the final stick of dynamite, was then wrapped in the remainder of the shirt, forming a neat little bag of destruction. They were as ready as they’d ever be.
Lewis grabbed the smallest pickaxe and they all headed back towards the hatch. Samantha carried the explosives, walking as smoothly as possible, keeping her breathing extremely shallow the entire way. The watery section and its slippery floor were especially nerve wracking.
Flames were visible through the burning hatch cover; the fire was within a few minutes of completely destroying it. They had no way of judging the condition of the blaze above, but knew that the time to act was now. Samantha gently handed the four-stick bundle to Gonzalez, and then edged down onto her knees and carefully pushed the rest of the explosives under the water. Lewis gave Gonzalez a quick nod. “Ready?” he asked.
She held the dynamite in her outstretched palms, available for Lewis to grab and throw as soon as the path was clear. “Ready,” she confirmed.
Lewis then hefted the ladder, using it as a battering ram to shove the hatch above to the side. Taking the bundle of dynamite from Gonzalez, he heaved it underhand at the opening, trying to put a little arc on the throw so the explosives wouldn’t end up coming back down through the hatch. The moment Gonzalez’s hands were free, she flattened her body as both she and Samantha pushed the shirt full of dynamite under the water, hoping their bodies and the water would shield the remaining explosives from the approaching blast.
Lewis knew that he too should hit the water but he couldn’t help but watch the bundle as it flew through the opening. He didn’t really know what to expect. The show was nothing short of spectacular; the dynamite, missing the edge of the hatch by less than an inch as it spun out of the hole, detonated almost immediately. Lewis’s eyes widened at the bright explosion. His mind told his body to get in the water but the message arrived too late. The pressure wave from the blast hit Lewis like an all pro linebacker blindsiding a rookie quarterback, thrusting his body downward.