Rescue Attempt

The silence was the loudest thing in Black Creek now. It had settled over the hollows and the hills like a shroud, thick and suffocating. Bubba stood on the porch of his small house, the morning air tasting like ash and dread. The radio crackled with static, a constant reminder of the voices that were no longer there. Thirteen men. Thirteen good men, swallowed by the earth. Their last transmissions, a jumble of fear and confusion, still echoed in Bubba’s mind. He’d played them over and over, searching for a clue, a hint, anything that made sense. But there was nothing, just the growing, chilling realization that something terrible had happened down in the belly of Black Creek Mine.

Jesse pulled up in his beat-up Ford, the engine rumbling a familiar, comforting sound in the unnatural quiet. He killed the engine and the silence rushed back in, only this time, it felt a little less heavy. He walked up the steps and clapped Bubba on the shoulder, his face etched with the same worry that gnawed at Bubba’s gut.

“Anything?” Jesse asked, his voice low.