The Heart Of The Matter Ch 02

This one is a continuation of the critically acclaimed thriller.

Heart of the Matter

Preston was at work on a call-out. Time and a half. Anything over 8 hours was double time.

Cha-Ching!

As he walked into the staging area, he recognized an electrician, Tru (Taylor) Vu and fellow mechanic Carlos Singh. He filled his jug with ice and water and joined them.

"Presto Burnett" Carlos said, "Out to suck up some gravy?"

"I feel the need."

Tru said, "More money for my honey! Look at me, I come here in 1977 with empty hand.

Now I'm mayor of Pioneer Park."

Tru Vu was Vietnamese. He fled his homeland when the city of Saigon fell. He had a good grasp of English but had a singsong delivery. He had a stocky build and a square face.

It was hard to tell what was on his mind. He rarely smiled

"You got chased out, you mean." Carlos said.

"You fucking Mongolian!" Tru snarled through his teeth.

Carlos was a big man, considering his father was from Mexico and his mother from China.

He stood 6' 5" and weighed 240lbs. He had huge hands.

The pair were longtime coworkers and friends who took great pleasure in teasing and insulting each other.

"My wife is not here," Preston said.

"Where'd she go" Carlos asked.

She's in Kentucky with our kids. Visiting her folks."

Tru said, "Uh-Oh."

"She's coming back," Preston said.

Carlos looked at him side-eyed and asked, "How long's she been gone?"

"Almost 3 months."

Vu screwed up his face and said, "That's no good. She has Jody cutting your grass."

Carlos nodded.

Tru looked at Preston and asked, "Burnett. That's German."

"It's not. It's British"

Undeterred he said, "German optics best optics. German autos best autos.

Is your wife German? German pussy..."

"Don't say it, Tru." Carlos cut in.

A maintenance supervisor walked out of the conference room next to the dispatcher.

"Cage!" He called out.

They boarded the man/material hoist and made the 3 minute descent. Waiting at the station was the bottomlander Dawn Dwyer, sitting on a forklift tractor. She was a big girl. She was expecting a shipment of freight and did not look amused. The unscheduled mantrip was mucking up the program.

They walked past her scowl and turned left at the first crosscut, heading for the main shop.

As soon as they were out of hearing range, Carlos said, "Would you like to wake up at the crack of Dawn, Tru? That might be some pretty good penoché. I don't think anyone else is using it."

Tru just shook his head.

"I don't believe you. You fucked sweaty Betty," Carlos snickered.

"I fuck. You eat." Tru replied.

Carlos shuddered. "One time we were sitting at the lunchroom table and she was telling me about a dickhead boss. The more she talked, the madder she got and the madder she got, the faster she talked. Finally she spit her dentures into her lunchbox and said I can't do anything with those things in my mouth!"

"My kind of girl," said Tru Vu. They both started laughing.

They walked past the main shop and on to the electric shop and supervisors offices.

The shift supervisor was waiting for them.

"What's happenin' cap'n?" Carlos asked.

"The FCT in 012 broke a tram chain. They managed to get it out of the cut and onto the elevated roadway. So there's that. I want you three to find a jeep and go

give them a hand.

They scrounged around and found transport and took off for the mining panels. A right turn past the warehouse and another right at the car wash and de-watering station and they were heading down the the Main South road. Their surroundings were aptly described.

The walls were called ribs, the ceiling the back and the area being mined was called the face.

They were indeed in the belly of the beast.

They stopped midway at a maintenance lockup and picked up a maintenance truck.

It had everything imaginable for the job at hand, including an oxyacetylene cutting torch and an electric arc welder. It was a purpose built two seat open cockpit cruiser, painted fire engine red. Slung long and low it was fondly described in layman's terms as being too fat to fuck.

The three amigos rolled into the panel with the crippled conveyor and were met by yet another maintenance supervisor.

"Preston, you and Carlos go help Catfish with getting flyghts off that old tram chain. We need six. Taylor, go see about changing out the motor on G drive. Hubba hubba!

"Big bubbles no troubles" said Preston.

Terry 'Catfish' King was struggling with the 1" chain. He was sweating profusely and wiping his face with a roll of cheap toilet paper. Bits of paper were stuck in his whiskers.

"Catfish looks like a dog that's been chewing on a cushion. What do you say, 'fishy?"

"Shut up you big gorilla, and back me up with that end wrench."

That was about the time their world took a tumble.

They heard it before they saw it.

It sounded like ice expanding on a frozen lake or a wire rope over tensed. Like strands snapping and loud popping like the shot of a.22.

Then the ribs and floor started to percolate, swaying and bucking like jello.

The men were tossed like ping pong balls. It lasted less than 3 minutes but that was more than enough. The damage was done. It was a stark reminder that they were not welcome here.

The air was filled with dust. It was deathly quiet.

"Fuck a duck, the power is out. Let's get to the lunchroom." Carlossaid.

By the time they reached the lunch niche, the dispatcher was using the Allpage function of the phone system. "Attention, Attention, Mine personnel. Evacuate immediately. Proceed by your normal routes to the number 3 ore shaft."

Tru showed up looking a little green around the gills.

"Damn Tru, did you cause that."

"Fuck you no,". He said.

"Let's get some gone."

Their party accounted for, they left their truck behind, saying a silent prayer that there will a at least be a pipe wrench left when they come back for it.

They piled into the jeep and rolled out for the ore shaft.

They left the jeep at the bottom of the ore shaft incline.

"Wonder why they're bringing us out on the ore hoist?" Preston asked.

"I don't give a flying fig, as long as we get out in one piece.

This day is fucked."

They walked past decades of accumulated dust from airflow in the shaft laying in drifts.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas." Carlos said.

They walked past the surge bins and shuttle belts. Several miners waited ahead of them.

The ore hoist was capable of much greater speeds, but it was restricted when men were aboard. Add to that the much smaller size of the skip, this was a drawn out process.

There were two skips connected by six ropes draped over a horizontal drum rotating at the top of the ore hoist tower. One skip was at the collar dumping while the other was at the bottom being loaded. Using each other as counterweight and connected by tailropes greatly sped up hoisting production.

Tru said, "one time the skips collided mid shaft and they both went to the bottom. What cluster that was!"

Preston said, "That's not really a comfort to me right now."

Tru mugged a grin.

Carlos said, "Remember Mullins and that rowdy bunch from West Virginia? On swing shift they would ride the bonnet of the skip while it was being loaded so they could get to the bars before last call. The faceboss would let them go as soon as they shot and loaded 8 places.

They would step on the bonnet as the skip loaded and hang on to the rope, stepping off at the collar as it slowed going into the dump.

"That is ballsy" said Preston.

"Young, dumb and full of cum. That's what that is," said Carlos.

Eventually they got their turn. Preston was never so glad to see the sun again as he was that day.

They gathered at the staging area. When all were accounted for, the mine manager stepped up to speak.

"I'm happy to report that everyone made it out safely. We sustained some damage however, including loss of some ventilation controls. It's going to take some time to repair, I'm afraid. Check with the dispatcher for periodic updates. Any questions?"

"What happened?" asked one man.

"Early reports are that there was an event with our neighbor to the south of the interstate. That's all I know at this time,".he said.

"If that was from a fall, it must have been a pisser," said another.

"Like I said, keep in touch with our dispatcher for updates."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Preston was enduring his trial, Dovey was enduring an interview at the local grocery, Piggly Wiggly. It was managed by a notorious poon hound Russell Mulholland, and the questions he was asking were making her uncomfortable. He kept working his way back to her marital status.

"What makes you want to work with us Ms. Burnett?"

"It's Mrs. I recently moved to this area and I could use the income," she said.

"Do you have children," he asked.

"Two boys. Toby is 7. Keith is 5."

"Do you have reliable child care?"

"My mother lives on a farm outside of town," Dovey said. "She's willing to watch them while I'm working."

"Well it would be shelf stocking and facing to start. Some inventory on the graveyard shift. $8.50 an hour to start." Russ said.

"That would be fine, to start," said Dovey.

"Is your husband ok with this?" he asked.

"He's working in Wyoming," she said. From the look on his face she knew she had made a mistake the minute she said it.

"I have your phone number on record," he said. "I'll call you."

After she left, Russell Mulholland thought to himself, 'She'll do nicely.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days after the incident underground, Preston sat at the bar of the Astro Lounge with two fellow miners, Roger Wood and Percy Monteer discussing the state of current affairs. A dancer, clad only in a g-string and wearing 3 inch heels would occasionally stroll by on top the bar, soliciting donations into her diminutive garment. She remained largely unregarded by the trio.

"Initial reports say the event was triggered by a roof collapse over at Solvay," Roger said.

"It must have been a piss-cutter," Preston said, "Seismologists at the U of Utah reported a 2.6 quake. That's almost 200 miles away. There are still two men missing and no word on when we can go back in the hole. I can't afford to sit idle."

That really bothered Preston. He knew the chance of those missing's survival was now slim to none. Without fresh air, they would be facing toxic atmospheres and asphyxia.

Blackdamp, Whitedamp. Stinkdamp and Firedamp. If in an explosive concentration, it could launch men and material with the force of a black powder cannon. Rescue efforts had to proceed with caution and under breathing apparatus it was a slow and laborious effort to search and restore ventilation, Multiple rescue teams would be needed.

Preston had not slept well in days. His dreams were haunted by scenes of abandonment, all alone and gasping for breath.

He was on the verge of a life-changing decision.

" I've had enough," he tossed out there, "I think I'm going to twist off and head home."

"Sphincter says what?" Roger asked.

"I've got a bad feeling. I think my number's up," he said.

"I think your number is 'pussy'," said Percy.

"Meow," Preston replied, "I miss my wife and boys."

"I think your number is pussyWHIPPED'" said Percy, "Get her back out here and bone her like she owes you money. That's what you need to get your nerve back. Pump up the juice. Watch this."

As the stripper made another pass, he took $5 from the bar and turned around. Placing the bill across the bridge of his nose, he leaned back until his head rested on the on the bar.

Seizing the opportunity, the dancer straddled his head and began to squat.

Suddenly Percy tried to escape but it was too late. He lacked clearance and she nested on his egghead like a mother hen. His arms were flailing. As she rose from her perch the bill remained, so she made another attempt to retrieve it. This time his arms remained limp at his side. As she proceeded on her silent languid journey. Percy remained still, the look on his face was one of defeat.

"What the fuck just happened?" Preston asked.

"As she was closing in, I saw a dingleberry," Said Percy, "I tried to get away but she was too heavy. The second time I didn't have the strength. That bitch needs to learn how to wipe!"

"You tossed her salad! You horny old goat!" Roger exclaimed. "Nasty."

Roger and Preston chortled and grimaced. "Lickety split! You salty dog!" They howled.

Preston said, "I need to go. I've got shit to do."

"Yeah, like going home to box Oscar and dream of kissing chocolate starfish.

You perv," said Roger. "Later."

Preston thought: 'I am going to miss these clowns.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He called his wife. After a few pleasantries and inquiries of Dovey and the family, Preston tossed in a stunner; I'm coming to see y'all. Not just to visit. To stay."

Dovey was flummoxed. Floored. Bamboozled.

"What brought this about?" she asked.

"Hearts trump," was his reply. "I miss you and the boys something fierce. I'll shut things down here as soon as I can and head home to you."

"Oh honey," she said. "I can't wait."

They said their farewells and disconnected.

Dovey was elated. Wasn't she? She should be. Her mind was in an uproar. Her heart raced and she felt a sense of impending doom; she could think of no good reason why.

The boys would be over the moon. After these last few months without him around they were becoming independent and contrary. She felt a confrontation rapidly approaching.

"Mama?" she spoke, "Are you busy?"

Mary Beth sat across the table from Dovey and surveyed her daughter. "What is it?" She. asked.

"Preston's coming back."

"When? This is good!" her mother sa

"I hope it is." Dovey said, "It came completely out of the blue. "He said he'll be here soon as he can."

"Maybe think about asking why," Mary Beth said. "I think it's a good thing."

Dovey sincerely hoped so. Since their split, she had been thinking about her independence. Calling her shots. Following her dreams. Answering to no one but herself. She knew she should feel guilty. But she didn't. It excited her.

Her phone rang. It was Russ Mulholland.

He said, "Hello Mrs. Burnett. This is Russell Mulholland. Can you

start Sunday night at 11?"

After a short pause, she said, "I certainly can."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Preston began dismantling his life in Wyoming. He called the utility providers for his apartment and cancelled service at the end of the month. He cleaned out his checking and savings accounts. He made an appointment with Human Resources at his workplace to sche cancellation of his medical, dental, vision care and life insurance benefits and to discuss value in his pension plan. He serviced his truck in preparation for an extended road trip.

He surveyed the possessions in his apartment and figured a medium sized trailer would contain the items he wanted to keep. The rest he would donate to Goodwill.

On his visit to HR, he X'd out his benefits and left a forwarding address for his final paychecks and any future correspondence. They wished him well.

Preston was on his way out the door when he was met by the Supt. of Maintenance,

Dean Wehr, who tried to persuade him to change his mind about leaving. When Preston wouldn't renege, he tried a different tack.

"We have ore leases for the next 20 years," he said, "You'll have a job here until you're ready for a rocking chair. Why pass that up?"

Preston said, "I miss my wife and kids. They need me now." He said.

"That's not a very good reason," the super said. "They might not even be yours,"

Preston resisted the urge to loosen a few of this asshole's teeth. He only said, "Are you speaking from personal experience? I spoke with one of your wife's bulls. He said it's pretty good penoché once he gets past the used part."

That brought fire to the fore. Neither man moved nor blinked.

Finally Dean Wehr cast his gaze to his feet. Preston glanced at the HR rep, Suzy Medina. Her face registered a look of shock. She mouthed the words, "I'm sorry."

Dean extended a hand and said "Thank you for your service."

Preston said, "Take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut."

So much for a glowing recommendation.

Preston rented a U-haul and loaded it with the things he thought he couldn't do without. He called his buds Percy and Roger and together they loaded their trucks with the excess and unloaded it at St. John's Episcopalian Thrift store.

The deed was done. "You know you're fucking up, right, Pablo?" Roger said.

"That bridge is burning, Preston said.

"Onward and upward," Percy said.

They bro-hugged and shook hands. With a brief knowing look in each other's eyes, Preston said, "Try and keep P's nose out of ass-cracks where it doesn't belong."

Preston was ready to get his own nose in the wind. Onward and upward it would be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dovey's first night at work was an a eye opener. Shelves and coolers were restocked, the front row of each item precisely aligned. Produce bins were refilled. Wilted or off-colored specimens were discarded. There was a surprising amount of waste. Floors were swept and buffed, all by a small motley crew of college age men and women, scruffy homeless looking men and middle-aged women. Dovey was impressed by how hard they worked as she struggled to keep pace.

At 3am they took a break for lunch. The menu included recently outdated or expired perishables, produce and staples. Buyer beware.

A middle aged woman, Debbie Davis and younger college student, Jody Scheneman joined Dovey at a small table.

"Hi, I'm Debbie and this is Jody. Welcome to the hoot owl shift."

"Dovey Burnett. Nice to meet you both."

"First night? Probably looks like pandemonium. Once you catch on to the routine things will make more sense,"said Debbie.

"You hit it pretty hard," Dovey said.

"Are you from around here?" Debbie asked

"I'm staying with my folks. They have a farm on the outskirts of Pikeville. I grew up there."

"Welcome to our team," Jody said.

Break over at 3:30, the crew let out a collective groan and went back to work.

Dovey pulled up at the farmhouse bone tired. The sun had yet to breach the horizon. As she entered the kitchen her mother was at the stove pouring a cup of coffee.

"Want a cup?" Mary Beth asked.

"Oh mama I'm too tired. I just want to sleep."

"Hit the hay then," her mother said, "I'll get the boys' breakfast when they wake up."

Dovey climbed the stairs with lead feet. She needed to re-think her agenda.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Preston rolled East on I-80. Past Rock Springs, Superior, Wamsutter, Point of Rocks. The thought of living out here was depressing. Not the edge of the earth. But he bet you could see it from here, Preston thought.

As he approached a dry wash, Preston spotted what appeared to be a pile of rags stacked against the guardrail. As he got closer the pile began to move. It scared him. He pulled over to the shoulder and stopped. Rags approached the truck and stood by the passenger side window. He looked like he was wearing a ghillie suit. He had dark dreadlocks and a woolly beard. No way was he getting in the cabin.

Preston kept the door locked but rolled the window down far enough to talk through it.

"Hell of a place to be afoot. Where are you going," Preston asked.

"East," was all he said.

"I can take you as far as Cheyenne. Climb in the bed." Preston said.

"There's a seat belt law," said Rags.

"Keep your head down then. Take it or not," said Preston.

The dude climbed in and got as comfortable as possible, with his back to the cab, in the slipstream.