Written in the Scars(73)

“Enough,” I say with more certainty than I feel. “We can’t panic, can’t go using it up by being stupid. The best thing we can do right now is to stay calm.”

“Stay calm,” Jiggs mutters, blowing out a breath. “Yeah f*cking right. We’re trapped below the f*cking surface and you want me to stay calm?”

It’s in his voice—that ripple that comes right before someone loses their shit. I can’t blame him, but I can’t let it happen either.

“Hey,” I say, my tone not one I usually use for my brother-in-law. “You want to make it out of here to see your wife and baby?”

The words drench him like a bucket of cold water. I ignore Cord’s look, the one that asks if I really believe that’s possible, and keep my gaze settled on Jiggs.

“Because you losing your cool down here isn’t going to help anything,” I say.

“My wife is up there!” Jiggs shouts, the words all too loud in the tight space. “I need to get out of here!”

I grab him by the shoulders and shove him backwards. “Guess what? My wife is up there too,” I remind him, standing so close our noses nearly touch. “Your f*cking sister? Remember her? So stay f*cking calm, man.”

His breath is hot on my face, his nostrils flaring as he waits for the next words out of my mouth.

Cord places a hand on each of our shoulders. “Settle down, boys,” he says. The calm in his tone eases the tension between Jiggs and I, and we both blow out a breath. “We’re gonna get out of here. Let’s just ease up and get comfy because it could be a long minute.”





ELIN


“Ladies, please listen to me,” Vernon says, squatting down in front of us.

I look at his face through Lindsay’s hair. At first I only see his mouth move through the tears, fear gripping me in its strongest hold, blocking out his words. But when I make out “Ty,” I pull away from Lindsay.

“ . . . aren’t sure what caused it yet. Most of the crew escaped, but we haven’t located Ty, Jiggs, Cord McCurry, “Grunt” Salis, and Shane Pettis.”

“What do you mean you haven’t located them?” Lindsay wails.

“We don’t know where they are.”

“Could they have gotten out?” I ask, not bothering to attempt to halt the trail of tears flowing down my face.

Vernon stands and joins his associates in a tight line. “It’s possible. But, ladies, I think you should prepare for the fact that they may be trapped below.”

“No . . .” Lindsay cries, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I sit, my posture rigid. I can’t wail, can’t sob, can’t ask questions. My body starts to shake, my body temperature plummeting, and I know one thing: I’m in shock.





TY


The water drips down the walls, pinging into puddles. The sound chirps through the little room created by the cave-in.

It could be relaxing, in the right situation. It reminds me of the little fountain Elin had one time in the living room until Cord drank too much and knocked it over, breaking it into a million pieces.

“Okay, let’s get a plan,” I say, pulling myself together. “Does anyone have their radios?”

“The battery died on mine a few hours ago, before all this shit,” Cord says. “I have it, but it’s no good.”

Jiggs looks around. “I have no idea where mine is.”

“Mine was lying in water,” I say, tossing the remnants of my shattered radio in a pile of coal across the room. “Battery is toast.”

I survey the room. “Do we have any food in here?”

“How long you think we’ll be stuck down here?” Jiggs asks.

“I don’t know, honestly,” I admit. “But probably longer than we care to admit.” Again, I ignore a pointed look from Cord. “So, food. Lights. What do we have?”

Cord stumbles into the back corner and rummages around. A few minutes later, he steps into the light of my headlamp. “We have one lunchbox.”

“That’s mine,” I say. My lips press together as I fight myself from snatching it from his grasp. I know there’s a little note from Elin inside, as well as my lunch—the last thing she might ever do for me. My fists clench at my sides as I rip my eyes away from the metal bucket.

“Let’s hope Elin packed you some good shit,” Cord says.

Hearing her name out loud rips through my soul. I wonder where she is and if she knows. I hope someone is with her, comforting her, telling her it’ll all be okay somehow. That someone is lying to her.

“We probably need to save our lamps,” Cord points out. “It’s gonna be dark as hell down here if we don’t.”

“This is hell,” Jiggs snorts.

“No, you’re right,” I say. “Let’s get a safe place to sit and save our lights. We’ll flip one on at a time every now and then.”

We begin clearing out a space on the floor for the three of us. We take pieces of rubble and build up a little pad over the mud and water that seems to never stop trickling in. We work silently, none of us making eye contact, like if we don’t look at the others, maybe this won’t be real.

We sit in a circle of sorts, Cord to my right, Jiggs to my left, my lunch box tucked in beside me.