Read Online The Healer by Michael Blumlein - Free Book Online Page B

Payne recognized him as one of the men who'd been on the playing field that day. He seemed quite friendly.
    He took Payne to the dry and outfitted him with the basic gear. Rubber boots, oilskin coat, safety belt, gloves. There was no hard hat that came close to approximating the shape of Payne's head, and the one they finally settled on was so big it seemed to float above his head rather thanfit it. Slivey next chose a lamp for him and tested its battery. It seemed to work fine, the lamplight strong and powerful, but for some reason he decided to replace it with a different one. He showed Payne how to strap it to his belt and then how to clip the lamp on. Its weight pulled the rim of the ill-fitted hat aslant across his forehead, nearly to his eyes, and Slivey laughed. “That looks good,” he said. “Shows you got attitude.”
    As they made their way through the adit, he instructed Payne on procedure and basic safety measures. “You hear a bell, that means a skip's coming, you move to the rib. You hear a siren, that means there's been an accident, you get yourself out as fast as you can. Watch your head. Don't walk into timber sets. Watch your feet. Don't get tangled up in hoses. And be damned careful of the ventilation tubing. You punch a hole in that, you're robbing air from the boys at the face. It's like stepping on their throats. Rails, too. You catch a foot, next thing you twist an ankle. And don't get separated. Rule number one is no man goes down alone. We stick together. Do not forget that. Don't leave your partner and don't let him leave you.”
    Payne was grateful for the advice, though he didn't understand it all, and of what he did understand, he only absorbed about half. He was too busy adjusting to the strange new environment, which at present involved trying to negotiate the ever-deepening darkness without stumbling, hitting his head, or otherwise injuring himself. The problem with the headlamp was that it only pointed straight ahead. It did little to illuminate objects to the side of him. And there was a rail and ties to watch out for around his feet, and puddles of water whose depth he couldn't judge. It was a tricky business being a miner.
    Gradually he got the hang of things and started to feel more comfortable. The adit tunnel was tall and wide and, to his head at least, posed little danger. He still had a tendency to stumble, but if he matched his stride to the distance between ties, he could walk a little faster, which was a timely realization, for he'd fallen behind Slivey and needed to catch up. But then he heard a bell and froze.
    He knew it meant something but couldn't remember what. In the distance he saw a single light approach and thought perhaps it was a miner. He stood and waited as the light grew larger and the bell clanged on. He heard a yell, and then in rapid succession had his breath knocked out of him by a blow to his chest, was lifted off his feet, then launched sideways. He ended up sprawled against the rib with Slivey on top of him. A second later, a fully laden skip rumbled past.
    Slivey rolled off him and got to his feet, brushing off the dirt. Payne was embarrassed, bruised and shaken.
    â€œGo on, get up,” said Slivey.
    Payne did as he was told.
    Slivey's headlamp shone in his eyes, half-blinding him, then swept across his body as though examining it. He couldn't see the miner's face, but he could imagine its expression.
    Seconds later, the light swung away, and in a flat voice Slivey repeated himself. “You hear a bell, you move to the rib. You hear a siren, you get out. Don't get separated. Don't wander off. Now let's get going.”
    This time Payne stayed as close behind the man as he could without tripping. The shoulder he had landed on throbbed, which seemed to heighten all his other senses. For the first time he heard the drip of water. He smelled the dampness in the air and tasted something faintly acrid and metallic in his throat. He saw