If I tell her, she’ll tell her family. And they could bring the mine down on us. On me, on Roth, on the guys I graduated with. My hands shake as I inhale—there’s no weighing the possibilities in my mind, there’s only war, there’s only helplessness. I close my eyes. There’s no one who knows about her, no one who can tell me what to do, no one who can tell me which set of lives is more important.
Dad, I think as I listen to Roth humming an old mining tune. Help. What would you do?
As soon as I ask it, I know—so quickly that I wonder if the answer came from my father or my heart. Maybe it was both.
I grab for Ennor’s hands when I enter the cavern—I know where they’ll be, though I can’t explain how.
“I came to warn you. They’re going to blow the mountain.”
Ennor doesn’t move; I wait for the sound of her breath to quicken in the darkness.
But there is nothing, there’s silence and the sound of her heart beating that I can somehow hear in the still. Or maybe it’s my heart—I can’t tell.
“Ennor? They’re closing the mine. They’re going to blow the mountain to get the rest of the coal. You and your family have to leave.”
“I heard you. We already knew. My family heard other miners talking. I came to warn you. They’re going to let the earth take them.”
Her words are soft, gentle even. She slides her hands from my palms up my forearms. At first I think she’s calm, but then I feel it—a slight, uneven tremble.
“How long do we have to get out?” I whisper.
“Not long.”
I nod, and I mean to turn and run back to Roth. Instead I stand still—this time it isn’t my feet weighing me down, it’s something deeper, something that slinks around my heart and lungs. I inch my arms forward and then wrap them around Ennor, gently at first, then harder, till I realize I’m clutching her and, even more surprising, she’s clutching me.
“Will I see you again?” I finally ask. I feel her chin tilt up and know she’s looking at me, but it doesn’t bother me anymore that I can’t see her eyes.
“I don’t know,” she answers. “I can’t stop being a Knocker, and you can’t stop being a miner.”
“You’re only half a Knocker,” I remind her. “Maybe you can leave.”
“You’re only half a miner,” she answers. “The rest of you belongs somewhere else.”
She steps back and we release each other; I stand staring into the black, knowing she’s watching me, certain that I see her despite the lack of light. “You’ve got to go,” she says, inhaling.
I’ve got to save the other miners, my father’s people. I focus on that, hold an image of my father in my head, think about him saving the others so long ago. I hope I’m like him.
I run out of the cavern, back toward Roth.
I fly through the ballroom—some of the retreaters see me and try to call out, but I ignore them. Roth, I have to find Roth. He and the other miners are almost done removing equipment when I reach them. I don’t know what to say—I don’t know what to think, even. When I reach Roth, I choke on air but force words out despite the burning in my lungs.
“We have to get out,” I hack.
“What?” Roth asks, putting his hands on my shoulders and looking concerned.
“Now. There’s going to be a cave-in—we’ll get covered up.”
“A cave-in? How do you know?” Roth asks, eyes focusing on me carefully, like he’s trying to decide if I’m drunk.
What can I say? That a faery girl in a mine warned me?
“You have to trust me,” I say, and even as I do, I suspect he won’t. He barely knows me. He knew my father. Trust me like you would trust him, please, Roth. I stand up straight, try my best to look like him, try to channel the intensity of my father’s eyes into mine.
“All right,” Roth says; I can tell he thinks I may be crazy, but he reaches for his radio.
In an instant, the mine changes. People abandon jobs, run, jump onto the carts and zip past us, supervisors driving like they’re racing. No one jokes in mines, and no one would doubt Roth’s word for a moment. People are running, running—
A blast, a sound that sends shock waves through the mine. The retreat miners would never do this while there are still miners in here. Words clutter Roth’s radio—accident, explosion, get out.
Rumbling echoes through the walls, ceilings, floors; it’s starting.
I have to be the last to go—if I’m here, maybe Ennor will make her family wait. She won’t let me die, she won’t let me get trapped in the dark, she knows I’m afraid of the dark—
No, I’m not, I argue with myself as I realize something: it’s not the dark I’m afraid of anymore. It’s failing the others. It’s failing my father by not being like him.
I stiffen my knees, like doing so will keep the ground below and the earth above from touching, from crushing me.
“Get on!” Roth shouts at me, shoving my shoulder.
“I want to know everyone’s out!” I shout back, but Roth isn’t really listening—he’s too preoccupied with yelling into the radio, watching carts fly past, counting people. He nods and leaps onto a cart; another miner grabs a passenger seat—everyone is ahead of us now, everyone is on their way out. I jump onto the back of the cart and we take off, speeding like never before.
Dust blinds me, settles in my throat until it feels like I’m breathing in sand. Just as we start to see light ahead, a rock hits the front of the cart; Roth slams the wheel to one side, lifting the wheels off the ground. It’s only for a moment, but it’s enough to throw me off balance—I hit the mine floor. I taste blood.
Rocks tumble down behind me, the tongue of the earth pressing me against the roof of its mouth, waiting to bite, to tear, to swallow me. I scramble to my feet and run toward the brake lights of Roth’s cart; they look like glowing red eyes in the distance. I’m not going to make it. The world is getting smaller and my feet clumsier. Am I running? I can’t tell—everything is hot and everything is getting blacker.
Maybe it’s because it’s getting darker that I feel her.
Her fingers slip over my wrist and for a moment, a fleeting moment, I see Ennor. Not her face, not her form, even, but her hair. It flicks behind her as she runs, over the stones like they’re grass. She pulls me along, weaving around rocks that rain from the ceiling.
She halts; I stumble past her. Her hair spins around her face, obscuring it. I turn to her and she throws both hands out, slams them against my chest with strength like the earth itself. I fly backward, falling, tripping, sailing, until I slam onto my back at the cave’s entrance. The air leaves my lungs, I’m choking, but I feel hands on me, strong hands, men’s hands, the miners tugging me to safety.
The light burns my eyes, forcing me to close them. I feel dizzy, disoriented, I hear my name but don’t understand where it’s coming from or who is asking for me. The only phrase I pick up, a phrase I hold on to like it’s a precious stone, is this:
Everyone’s accounted for. Looks like we’re okay.
They’re out. Everyone is out.
But I feel like half of me is still trapped in the mine.
I am a hero.
They ask me questions: How did you know? Are you psychic? Did you have a gut feeling?
I tell them I can’t explain it, because the truth is, I can’t.
They decide it must be my father. That his spirit warned me, that he filled me, made my body warn the others. They toast him in my hospital room. Once I’m back home, I get cards from the wives and children of the men who would have been covered up if I hadn’t warned them. They tell me my father would be proud. They tell me I’m more like him than I realize. They tell me I’m a miner to the core.