Rapture's Rendezvous

God. Alberto worried to himself. Even with all the lights each man had on his head, it was still as dark as what hell must be like.

“Come along, Alberto,” Giacomo said, guiding Alberto by an elbow out of the cage, as the rest of the men crowded out and around them. “Like I said. Stay close.”

Alberto's eyes widened, now seeing so much more than before as he began to follow alongside his Papa on ground that crunched with scattered coal beneath his feet. The carbide lights were spread out more, on each side of him, reflecting onto beautiful different colors of stalactites and stalagmites, almost taking Alberto's breath away. “I've never seen anything like this, Papa,” he blurted. “Why, it's beautiful here.”

“This is the underground wonder I failed to mention,” Giacomo said, reaching into a pocket, pinching off a plug of chewing tobacco. He formed it into a ball and poked it into the right side of his mouth, wetting it with his saliva. “But what you'll soon step into ain't pretty at all.”

“Why, Papa?”

“It's where we've picked and shoveled away at the earth. Where we've been workin’ at gettin’ the coal out.”

“But you won't have to disturb this area to get coal,” will you?”

“Sometime soon. There's lots of coal to be had here,” Giacomo said, now chewing and sucking on his tobacco. He went to a wall and lifted two pickaxes, handing one to Alberto. “We must get to work. Ain't makin’ no money standin’ ‘round beatin’ our gums.”

Once again, Alberto followed his father, hearing the steady drumming of pickaxes from the other miners who were busy burrowing their way through the earth. Alberto reached up and kneaded his brow. A slow ache had begun in his head and he had just begun his long day of duty. God, he thought. Will I even be able to make it?

He stopped to look around him once again. Some miners were spraying water from a long, twisted hose onto the face of the coal, to keep the dust down. Others were busy propping up the roof of the ground with timber.

“This is where one learns to curve his back, son,” Giacomo said, moving into a narrow cavern that looked to be only thirty-six inches high. “You might even have to kneel because of your added height.”

Alberto stepped into this part of the underground where fresh timber creaked above his head, but not high enough for him to stand erect. As his Papa was doing, he stooped, already feeling the muscles pulling at the base of his neck and spine.

Shivers rippled his flesh. In this part of the mine, it was even darker than the rest. It had to be the darkest dark there ever was or could be. It was darker than any night. The light on his hat gave him no consolation whatsoever. He now knew that he could never like working in a mine. His goal was to better himself . .. and as quickly as possible.

“Papa, what did you mean when you said that about making money? How do we get paid for a day's labor?” he asked sullenly.

Giacomo lifted the pickaxe and swung it heavily against the earthen wall, then another blow, and after another grunted exhaustedly with each jerk of his body. “We get paid by the buckets we fill with coal,” he said, panting.

“Buckets?”

“See them? Over yonder? We keep track of them that we fill, then we get paid by Nathan Hawkins.”

“Can't some lie and say they fill more than others?”

“Nathan Hawkins knows if there's one less or more bucket at the end of the day. After everyone speaks his number to Nathan Hawkins's representative, he has a way of knowin'. I think there's a spy among us, keepin’ track for that devil. If someone tries cheatin', none of us gets our wages.”

“God,” Alberto groaned, beginning to work his own pickaxe into the earth once again. He stopped after only three blows, to wipe his brow. “How much per bucket, Papa?” he quickly added.

“Huh? What's that you say?”

“How much money do you make per bucket, Papa?”

“Ain't never the same,” Giacomo grumbled.

Alberto's heart froze. “What… ?” he gasped.

“Ain't never the same from day to day,” Giacomo repeated.

“Why the hell not?”

“Hawkins pays us also by the quality of the coal we've found on a certain day….”

“That bastard,” Alberto grumbled, now thrusting his pickaxe into the earth, blow by angry blow, imagining it to be Nathan Hawkins. He growled, hitting harder and harder until he felt a firm hand fall onto his shoulder. He stopped and

looked down onto the puzzled face of his father.

“Alberto, you act like a crazy person,” Giacomo said quietly. “Why are you attackin’ the earth so? You have all day. You must save your energy so it'll last you till we're raised back up into fresh air.”