Nanowrimo Day 23
I just realized I have two characters named Matthew in this. Hmm. Oh well. If i don't say anything, maybe no one will notice.
It took Shay a few days to fully recover from touching the Sleeper. She wasn’t brave enough to say its name, but in secret, she had drawn the symbol on a river stone her father had given her when she was little. It had been too pretty to leave in the funeral home’s landscaping, he had told her. She had kept it as a luck charm and worry stone all those years and now she had used a golden gel pen to draw the sigil on the flat side of it.
She wasn’t quite herself yet, and having something physical to hold on to helped. Her mother, strong, fearless Hazel, had seen this before and soothed her with chocolate mints and plenty of time to sort herself out. Shay wasn’t quite ready to go back to the mountain either and she worried about that. Copperhead kept an eye on her and let her wander as she liked. She knew he was there and he was a constant reminder that it there was nothing really wrong with her.
Copperhead had touched the Sleeper before too, more than once even, and it always chilled him. He wore layers in the hottest parts of July, loved scalding hot baths and drinks, liked to sit in hot cars all summer, and was occasionally compelled to soak up the heat from the asphalt of the paved roads like the snake he was named after. He wasn’t crazy and had never been on drugs. It was the Sleeper that made him behave like that and always had been.
Second hand madness, Shay thought. She didn’t think what she had absorbed was insanity, but she might be too close to recognize it.
She had been walking the backroads around the old ghost coal town with Copperhead at a distance. Sometimes, she let him pedal her around on his bike. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be like him and felt disloyal for that. She knew she didn’t want to spend her life digging out more of the Sleeper, away from the sun. She wouldn’t mind touching it again. Later. When she was ready for it.
Today they had gone to the old cemetery. She walked around, looking at the Shaws and Kahls, the Langes, the Lloyds, all the old families had a few graves there. There was one that just said Mazza. Whoever they had been, they were the only one with that name. Everybody else had some family members there except for poor lonely Mazza. Had the Sleeper called them away from their family too?
Copperhead was lounging near the fence. He had gotten his hands on a long black coat and it soaked up sunlight nicely. He could’ve been asleep, but she was sure he was still keeping watch. The wind picked up, making the tall grass swish around her. It felt good and she held out her hands to let the grass brush over her palms. Copperhead said her name, and there was a note of alarm in it. She looked at him and he was looking up.
Something was coming, something like a lightning storm. It roared over the mountain. It gave her the impression of something billowing white and the bright crackle of lightning. Were there wings in it? Whatever they were, they tucked in like a falcon and the whole thing went into a dive straight towards them. Copperhead was running towards her too. She wasn’t used to seeing him move so fast and the fear in his face terrified her more than whatever the other thing was.
He grabbed her hand and ran with her. She kept up as best she could. They tore through the old headstones and slid down the hill on the lower side of the cemetery, into the trees. There was another way into the mine down there, she remembered. Scattered around were the older headstones. This tunnel hadn’t been used much since a flood had washed out some of the graves into it. It was overgrown and the entrance was barely big enough for Shay. Copperhead all but shoved her into it. She stumbled on the old dug out stairs.
“Run until you come out somewhere,” Copperhead said. His eyes were wild. “Killing me might be enough, but it might not.”
“Come with me!” Shay begged, reaching for him. “You come too!”
He didn’t answer, just grabbed the nearest headstone and wrenched it up to lay over the hole, blocking off the light and leaving her trapped. She squeaked a protest and heard his feet run away in the dead leaves again. She was afraid to call for him, afraid it would ruin whatever his plan was. She couldn’t see her way, but that had never stopped her before. With one hand on the wall, she headed deeper into the tunnel. As she went, she prayed, to God and Jesus, and maybe the Sleeper. She clutched the stone in her other hand. Over head, something like thunder rumbled and bits of dirt and rock fell around her.
Was it killing Copperhead right now? she wondered. How could it? Couldn’t it tell how gentle and soft he was? How patient and generous? Another boom and more shaking and she did her best not to cry. The selfless had told her she wouldn’t be afraid anymore, she thought, feeling betrayed. But then, a new thought told her, maybe this new thing was the same kind of thing. Another Sleeper, awake and for whatever reason, angry. Something else she was right to be afraid of.
Don’t let it kill Copperhead, she prayed. Save him somehow. His real name is Matthew, like in the Bible. He has never hurt anybody in his life. He went to rehab so he wouldn’t have to argue with the police counselor lady. Don’t let it hurt him. Please, please, please…
She had gone deeper, but not deep enough to miss the crack. It was like lightning had struck or the world had split open and she couldn’t help but scream in fright. Bigger pieces fell on her now and she thought of the bones in the graveyard caving in on her. She could be buried as deep and tight as the Sleeper with no one to know where or how to dig her out again.
“Please!” she sobbed out loud and her guiding hand touched something that wasn’t the wall. It felt like another hand and she would’ve screamed again if it hadn’t wrapped around hers so gently. “Who’s there?”
“You’re one of Tom’s,” it was a low voice, with no menace in it. It felt fatherly and smelled distantly of green beans with ham hocks and black pepper. She could see a little now, though there was no light to adjust to. She could just barely make him out. He was one of the old miners, she knew, the really old ones. He had sharp eyes and a strong nose, but there was nothing hard about him. There were others behind him. None of them looked very solid. His hand felt real enough.
“One of Tom’s,” they echoed. They gathered around her and felt other hands on her arms and shoulders. They begin to pull her onward down the tunnel. The man holding her hand led the way. There were other sounds from overhead and they began to go faster. Shay wanted to ask them to help Copperhead, to tell her what was happening. They were going to fast though. It was like a whirlwind, a blur of speed and darkness. It snatched the breath out of her lungs and she could feel her feet dragging and stumbling along as they went.
She knew she was crying. She could feel the cold wet on her face. She wasn’t as scared anymore. She knew she was safe with whoever these people were. As fast as they were going, they weren’t hurting her. She heard something that would’ve been familiar if it hadn’t been so nearby. It was a train whistle. The nearest train track was down by the river. It was on the other side of the mountain. Had they brought her all the way through? Was there a tunnel from the old days to take the coal to the train yards?
She could feel a change in the air. It was warm and smokey. The train was close then. She could feel the rumble of it now, maybe not as terrifying as the thunder had been, but still unnerving. The breathless pace finally began to slow down and all the hands began to fall away. She got her feet underneath her and all that was left was the first man. There was weird flickering light now and it made him look even more faint. They were in a chamber and there was hole in the floor.
Shay looked down and there was a train roaring by underneath. It was pitch black except for the train lights. They were in the old Monroe tunnel, she realized. Somewhere above it. The ghostly miner changed his grip on her. She was as tall as he was so it was awkward, but he hooked his hands under her arms to lift her up.
“What are you doing?” she asked him, and then squealed it when he swung her out over the hole and the speeding train.
“It’ll be all right,” he said over the noise of the train. “It’ll get you safely away. You don’t have to come back.”
“Wait!” Shay begged. “WAIT!!” But he dropped her and she fell. It should’ve killed her, she knew, to hit the back of a speeding train. Even if it hadn’t, she should’ve been scraped to jelly by the low ceiling. She must’ve been protected somehow, or he knew just how to time it because she landed with thump in car full of coal and was swept away. It was uncomfortable but not painful. It was gritty and it got in her eyes and nose and mouth.
It only took a few minutes to come out of Monroe Tunnel. The sky was still blue, the sun was still out. If she twisted around on the shifting pile of coal she could see her home mountain being left behind. They were down by the river now. If she jumped she could hit the rocks on the bank or the bluffs on the other side. If she was lucky she might only break her legs. She had been very lucky so far. She had probably used up all the luck she would ever have.
She knew this train was headed for the train yards in Sanders. It was less than an hour away. Even if it was one of the ones that didn’t stop, it would have to slow down to go through all the tracks. It was probably safest to try to get off there. She could find a phone and call for a ride home. She hoped it would be Copperhead that was sent to get her, that he really was all right. The wind hurt her ears and made her eyes water, so she ducked back down into the car. She pulled her shirt up over her face to keep the rest of the dust out.
She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, and it was the shriek of the brakes that woke her up. They must becoming in to a yard or station. It was dark when she opened her eyes and she knew she had overshot Sanders. She didn’t know how that was possible, but being in an unknown city was the least unsettling that had happened to her today. She sat up and looked around and saw the lights of the town. Her heart sank a little when she had no idea where it was. None of it looked familiar.
The train was grinding its way to a stop. She ducked back down again to avoid anyone seeing her, but then reconsidered. It was probably a good thing to be found sooner rather than later. Even if she was in trouble, all they could do is call her parents and that was what she wanted anyway.
As soon as the train settled into its stop and she climbed out. It was still a hard drop on unsteady legs. Then, she had nearly a half mile to walk to get to the station. This was a much worse town than Sanders because the clerk there would only speak to her through plexiglass and was adamant that he could not let her in or let her use the phone. It was against policy. If there wasn’t a clock in full view behind him, he probably wouldn’t have told her the time. It was a little after midnight. He did point her down the street to an all-night diner.
Shay wasn’t used to being treated this way and was honestly upset by it. She hadn’t realized how much deference she was given in her home town. Her sisters were right. She really had been spoiled. She wasn’t a baby, though. She could take care of herself. She tried to wipe her dusty face clean and started in the direction the clerk had pointed.
Despite the late hour, there were people to watch her go by. A few of them shouted things at her that would get them shot at home, but the mess she was in kept most of them from coming close. She was filthy. Grave dirt and coal dust and tear streaks looked back at her from dimly lit windows. She already looked like the worse thing ever had happened to her.
She saw the diner and it looked warm and bright. She hoped they would let her inside. The good news was that the waitress was busy and there were only a few people there. It made sense for the hour, she assumed. One of the other customers caught her eye. He was big and handsome and had a long braid of black hair down his back, longer than her hair. He was eating a cheeseburger and something about him was so pleasant that she went over to him. He didn’t pay any attention to her until she was at his elbow.
“Hi,” she said. He had an earring she noticed, a simple dangling stone of some kind. Eye contact with him was weird and such a relief that big tears started to leak down her face. “Do you have a phone?’
“No,” he said, sounding puzzled but not unkind. She didn’t hear whatever had him tilt his head just a fraction, but his brow furrowed even more. The waitress had spotted her and was scowling, but the big man waved her to sit across from him in the booth. She helped herself to a napkin to wipe her eyes and nose. “I’m supposed to ask you,” he said slowly. “What the many times great grand-child of Thomas Whitaker is doing on this side of the Mississippi.”
“You’re like me!” she said, voice cracking with relief all over again.
“I don’t know,” he said. She fumbled in her pocket which put him on guard again. She pulled out her river rock with the sigil on it and saw his nostrils flare when he saw it. He might not know what it meant, but he recognized the power it had.
“I don’t have a bag to keep it in,” she said, nodding at his pouch necklace. She could feel the current of something powerful there too. “I like to hold it in my hand.”
“Put it away,” he said quickly. The waitress was still giving them the stink-eye, so he waved at his plate. “Another one of these, please.”
“Oh, you don’t have to,” Shay said, putting the stone back in her pocket. The waitress was already heading for the kitchen with a judgmental purse in her lips.
“I know,” the man said. “But we’ll get you fed, and then you can clean up in the bathroom, and we’ll find you a phone.”
“You’re nice,” she said, sagging against the seat. “I am a Whitaker. My name’s Shay.”
“Vince,” he said. She beamed at him, brightly besides her obvious exhaustion. Then something occurred to her.
“Wait,” she said. “What side of the Mississippi am I on?”
It took Shay a few days to fully recover from touching the Sleeper. She wasn’t brave enough to say its name, but in secret, she had drawn the symbol on a river stone her father had given her when she was little. It had been too pretty to leave in the funeral home’s landscaping, he had told her. She had kept it as a luck charm and worry stone all those years and now she had used a golden gel pen to draw the sigil on the flat side of it.
She wasn’t quite herself yet, and having something physical to hold on to helped. Her mother, strong, fearless Hazel, had seen this before and soothed her with chocolate mints and plenty of time to sort herself out. Shay wasn’t quite ready to go back to the mountain either and she worried about that. Copperhead kept an eye on her and let her wander as she liked. She knew he was there and he was a constant reminder that it there was nothing really wrong with her.
Copperhead had touched the Sleeper before too, more than once even, and it always chilled him. He wore layers in the hottest parts of July, loved scalding hot baths and drinks, liked to sit in hot cars all summer, and was occasionally compelled to soak up the heat from the asphalt of the paved roads like the snake he was named after. He wasn’t crazy and had never been on drugs. It was the Sleeper that made him behave like that and always had been.
Second hand madness, Shay thought. She didn’t think what she had absorbed was insanity, but she might be too close to recognize it.
She had been walking the backroads around the old ghost coal town with Copperhead at a distance. Sometimes, she let him pedal her around on his bike. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be like him and felt disloyal for that. She knew she didn’t want to spend her life digging out more of the Sleeper, away from the sun. She wouldn’t mind touching it again. Later. When she was ready for it.
Today they had gone to the old cemetery. She walked around, looking at the Shaws and Kahls, the Langes, the Lloyds, all the old families had a few graves there. There was one that just said Mazza. Whoever they had been, they were the only one with that name. Everybody else had some family members there except for poor lonely Mazza. Had the Sleeper called them away from their family too?
Copperhead was lounging near the fence. He had gotten his hands on a long black coat and it soaked up sunlight nicely. He could’ve been asleep, but she was sure he was still keeping watch. The wind picked up, making the tall grass swish around her. It felt good and she held out her hands to let the grass brush over her palms. Copperhead said her name, and there was a note of alarm in it. She looked at him and he was looking up.
Something was coming, something like a lightning storm. It roared over the mountain. It gave her the impression of something billowing white and the bright crackle of lightning. Were there wings in it? Whatever they were, they tucked in like a falcon and the whole thing went into a dive straight towards them. Copperhead was running towards her too. She wasn’t used to seeing him move so fast and the fear in his face terrified her more than whatever the other thing was.
He grabbed her hand and ran with her. She kept up as best she could. They tore through the old headstones and slid down the hill on the lower side of the cemetery, into the trees. There was another way into the mine down there, she remembered. Scattered around were the older headstones. This tunnel hadn’t been used much since a flood had washed out some of the graves into it. It was overgrown and the entrance was barely big enough for Shay. Copperhead all but shoved her into it. She stumbled on the old dug out stairs.
“Run until you come out somewhere,” Copperhead said. His eyes were wild. “Killing me might be enough, but it might not.”
“Come with me!” Shay begged, reaching for him. “You come too!”
He didn’t answer, just grabbed the nearest headstone and wrenched it up to lay over the hole, blocking off the light and leaving her trapped. She squeaked a protest and heard his feet run away in the dead leaves again. She was afraid to call for him, afraid it would ruin whatever his plan was. She couldn’t see her way, but that had never stopped her before. With one hand on the wall, she headed deeper into the tunnel. As she went, she prayed, to God and Jesus, and maybe the Sleeper. She clutched the stone in her other hand. Over head, something like thunder rumbled and bits of dirt and rock fell around her.
Was it killing Copperhead right now? she wondered. How could it? Couldn’t it tell how gentle and soft he was? How patient and generous? Another boom and more shaking and she did her best not to cry. The selfless had told her she wouldn’t be afraid anymore, she thought, feeling betrayed. But then, a new thought told her, maybe this new thing was the same kind of thing. Another Sleeper, awake and for whatever reason, angry. Something else she was right to be afraid of.
Don’t let it kill Copperhead, she prayed. Save him somehow. His real name is Matthew, like in the Bible. He has never hurt anybody in his life. He went to rehab so he wouldn’t have to argue with the police counselor lady. Don’t let it hurt him. Please, please, please…
She had gone deeper, but not deep enough to miss the crack. It was like lightning had struck or the world had split open and she couldn’t help but scream in fright. Bigger pieces fell on her now and she thought of the bones in the graveyard caving in on her. She could be buried as deep and tight as the Sleeper with no one to know where or how to dig her out again.
“Please!” she sobbed out loud and her guiding hand touched something that wasn’t the wall. It felt like another hand and she would’ve screamed again if it hadn’t wrapped around hers so gently. “Who’s there?”
“You’re one of Tom’s,” it was a low voice, with no menace in it. It felt fatherly and smelled distantly of green beans with ham hocks and black pepper. She could see a little now, though there was no light to adjust to. She could just barely make him out. He was one of the old miners, she knew, the really old ones. He had sharp eyes and a strong nose, but there was nothing hard about him. There were others behind him. None of them looked very solid. His hand felt real enough.
“One of Tom’s,” they echoed. They gathered around her and felt other hands on her arms and shoulders. They begin to pull her onward down the tunnel. The man holding her hand led the way. There were other sounds from overhead and they began to go faster. Shay wanted to ask them to help Copperhead, to tell her what was happening. They were going to fast though. It was like a whirlwind, a blur of speed and darkness. It snatched the breath out of her lungs and she could feel her feet dragging and stumbling along as they went.
She knew she was crying. She could feel the cold wet on her face. She wasn’t as scared anymore. She knew she was safe with whoever these people were. As fast as they were going, they weren’t hurting her. She heard something that would’ve been familiar if it hadn’t been so nearby. It was a train whistle. The nearest train track was down by the river. It was on the other side of the mountain. Had they brought her all the way through? Was there a tunnel from the old days to take the coal to the train yards?
She could feel a change in the air. It was warm and smokey. The train was close then. She could feel the rumble of it now, maybe not as terrifying as the thunder had been, but still unnerving. The breathless pace finally began to slow down and all the hands began to fall away. She got her feet underneath her and all that was left was the first man. There was weird flickering light now and it made him look even more faint. They were in a chamber and there was hole in the floor.
Shay looked down and there was a train roaring by underneath. It was pitch black except for the train lights. They were in the old Monroe tunnel, she realized. Somewhere above it. The ghostly miner changed his grip on her. She was as tall as he was so it was awkward, but he hooked his hands under her arms to lift her up.
“What are you doing?” she asked him, and then squealed it when he swung her out over the hole and the speeding train.
“It’ll be all right,” he said over the noise of the train. “It’ll get you safely away. You don’t have to come back.”
“Wait!” Shay begged. “WAIT!!” But he dropped her and she fell. It should’ve killed her, she knew, to hit the back of a speeding train. Even if it hadn’t, she should’ve been scraped to jelly by the low ceiling. She must’ve been protected somehow, or he knew just how to time it because she landed with thump in car full of coal and was swept away. It was uncomfortable but not painful. It was gritty and it got in her eyes and nose and mouth.
It only took a few minutes to come out of Monroe Tunnel. The sky was still blue, the sun was still out. If she twisted around on the shifting pile of coal she could see her home mountain being left behind. They were down by the river now. If she jumped she could hit the rocks on the bank or the bluffs on the other side. If she was lucky she might only break her legs. She had been very lucky so far. She had probably used up all the luck she would ever have.
She knew this train was headed for the train yards in Sanders. It was less than an hour away. Even if it was one of the ones that didn’t stop, it would have to slow down to go through all the tracks. It was probably safest to try to get off there. She could find a phone and call for a ride home. She hoped it would be Copperhead that was sent to get her, that he really was all right. The wind hurt her ears and made her eyes water, so she ducked back down into the car. She pulled her shirt up over her face to keep the rest of the dust out.
She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, and it was the shriek of the brakes that woke her up. They must becoming in to a yard or station. It was dark when she opened her eyes and she knew she had overshot Sanders. She didn’t know how that was possible, but being in an unknown city was the least unsettling that had happened to her today. She sat up and looked around and saw the lights of the town. Her heart sank a little when she had no idea where it was. None of it looked familiar.
The train was grinding its way to a stop. She ducked back down again to avoid anyone seeing her, but then reconsidered. It was probably a good thing to be found sooner rather than later. Even if she was in trouble, all they could do is call her parents and that was what she wanted anyway.
As soon as the train settled into its stop and she climbed out. It was still a hard drop on unsteady legs. Then, she had nearly a half mile to walk to get to the station. This was a much worse town than Sanders because the clerk there would only speak to her through plexiglass and was adamant that he could not let her in or let her use the phone. It was against policy. If there wasn’t a clock in full view behind him, he probably wouldn’t have told her the time. It was a little after midnight. He did point her down the street to an all-night diner.
Shay wasn’t used to being treated this way and was honestly upset by it. She hadn’t realized how much deference she was given in her home town. Her sisters were right. She really had been spoiled. She wasn’t a baby, though. She could take care of herself. She tried to wipe her dusty face clean and started in the direction the clerk had pointed.
Despite the late hour, there were people to watch her go by. A few of them shouted things at her that would get them shot at home, but the mess she was in kept most of them from coming close. She was filthy. Grave dirt and coal dust and tear streaks looked back at her from dimly lit windows. She already looked like the worse thing ever had happened to her.
She saw the diner and it looked warm and bright. She hoped they would let her inside. The good news was that the waitress was busy and there were only a few people there. It made sense for the hour, she assumed. One of the other customers caught her eye. He was big and handsome and had a long braid of black hair down his back, longer than her hair. He was eating a cheeseburger and something about him was so pleasant that she went over to him. He didn’t pay any attention to her until she was at his elbow.
“Hi,” she said. He had an earring she noticed, a simple dangling stone of some kind. Eye contact with him was weird and such a relief that big tears started to leak down her face. “Do you have a phone?’
“No,” he said, sounding puzzled but not unkind. She didn’t hear whatever had him tilt his head just a fraction, but his brow furrowed even more. The waitress had spotted her and was scowling, but the big man waved her to sit across from him in the booth. She helped herself to a napkin to wipe her eyes and nose. “I’m supposed to ask you,” he said slowly. “What the many times great grand-child of Thomas Whitaker is doing on this side of the Mississippi.”
“You’re like me!” she said, voice cracking with relief all over again.
“I don’t know,” he said. She fumbled in her pocket which put him on guard again. She pulled out her river rock with the sigil on it and saw his nostrils flare when he saw it. He might not know what it meant, but he recognized the power it had.
“I don’t have a bag to keep it in,” she said, nodding at his pouch necklace. She could feel the current of something powerful there too. “I like to hold it in my hand.”
“Put it away,” he said quickly. The waitress was still giving them the stink-eye, so he waved at his plate. “Another one of these, please.”
“Oh, you don’t have to,” Shay said, putting the stone back in her pocket. The waitress was already heading for the kitchen with a judgmental purse in her lips.
“I know,” the man said. “But we’ll get you fed, and then you can clean up in the bathroom, and we’ll find you a phone.”
“You’re nice,” she said, sagging against the seat. “I am a Whitaker. My name’s Shay.”
“Vince,” he said. She beamed at him, brightly besides her obvious exhaustion. Then something occurred to her.
“Wait,” she said. “What side of the Mississippi am I on?”