the floor—no pillow, no sleeping bag. Their scalps and foreheads were covered by angry running sores. The bloody ooze had mixed with swirls of Paris green and run down to stain the collars of their shirts. Rock dust covered them. I knelt over Slim and poked him. He opened his eyes. The eyes seemed ordinary, yet a shudder went through me. Time seemed to slow. Then he giggled, and spit collected on his lips.
“Slim, it’s time to go. You’ve been down here too long.”
Slim shook his head. He knocked his hand against the captain’s chest. He pointed me out to the waking captain and giggled again.
The captain said, “You’ve come too late, Robert. You can’t get a share in this stake. It’s all ours now. You have no right to be here.”
“Captain, look at yourself. Whatever you’re unleashing is killing you.”
“Not killing us, Robert. Changing us. We’re much further along than Brandon.”
It didn’t look like argument would do much good. I couldn’t drag them out. Maybe if I went to the sheriff . . . I turned away from Slim giggling and rolling on the floor. I left the mine. Just as I stepped into daylight something crashed into the back of my skull.
My head hurt badly. It was night. I was trussed up leaning against the wall of the cabin looking toward the mine entrance. Brandon and the captain walked over to me. Brandon held a gun. “I’m sorry to use violence. Tonight we unite the opposites. I had to have you along. The planets within will join the planets without, and you and I will be transformed by their meeting.”
I had nothing to say. He continued, “Of course, should you try to escape, I’ll shoot you. Untie him, Mr. Macphedius.”
The captain untied me. An animal howl came from the mine. The captain said, “Slim says it’s nearly time.”
Brandon said, “Soon you will see the first of the mysteries of the Brunckow.”
Things stepped from the shadow of the cabin. Things misty, tall, and thin. They passed through us. When they touched us we could feel the memories. They were the ghost miners. We could feel their determination as they set out from Hamburg, their excitement as they left New York, their desperation as they left the gold fields of Alaska. There were flashes of their childhoods—seeing blue bellies overrun their plantation, shooting at a sky darkened with passenger pigeons, hearing sails flapping on a full-rigged ship. There was something else, too. The becoming aware of Something in the mine. A strange alien stretching of the mind.
The ghosts passed into the mine sustained by that feeling.
Slim howled again.
The captain said, “Slim says that he’s up to the Veil.”
Brandon said, “Come along, Mr. Lyons. I think you’ll find this more exciting than the promise of a New Deal.” He moved the gun in small arcs.
We walked into the mine. The ghosts were less distinct under the electric lights. Each of them labored at walls invisible to us. Possibly they labored at the depth the mine existed at in their times. We skirted the ghost miners with fog picks.
Slim stood buck naked at the end of the shaft. He’d cleared a good four feet since this afternoon. There had been gold in the rock. Gold dust glistened among blood and sweat. He held his pick high over his head, watching us with his time-slowing eyes. Brandon gave a nod and Slim turned to face the gray stone. He lifted his pick and gave a yell and brought the pick down on the stone. The pick bit into the rock and when he pulled it back the electric lights gave out. Something blue— like an alcohol flame—poured from the hole. The ghost miners moaned and began to dissolve into a mist, mixing each with each and entering our lungs. The blue light snaked out and entered Slim’s body. He went stiff. He tried to walk toward us. There was a smell of flesh burning. He fell forward, but the light streamed out of his eyes before he touched bottom. It passed into the captain, who died almost the moment it touched
“Slim, it’s time to go. You’ve been down here too long.”
Slim shook his head. He knocked his hand against the captain’s chest. He pointed me out to the waking captain and giggled again.
The captain said, “You’ve come too late, Robert. You can’t get a share in this stake. It’s all ours now. You have no right to be here.”
“Captain, look at yourself. Whatever you’re unleashing is killing you.”
“Not killing us, Robert. Changing us. We’re much further along than Brandon.”
It didn’t look like argument would do much good. I couldn’t drag them out. Maybe if I went to the sheriff . . . I turned away from Slim giggling and rolling on the floor. I left the mine. Just as I stepped into daylight something crashed into the back of my skull.
My head hurt badly. It was night. I was trussed up leaning against the wall of the cabin looking toward the mine entrance. Brandon and the captain walked over to me. Brandon held a gun. “I’m sorry to use violence. Tonight we unite the opposites. I had to have you along. The planets within will join the planets without, and you and I will be transformed by their meeting.”
I had nothing to say. He continued, “Of course, should you try to escape, I’ll shoot you. Untie him, Mr. Macphedius.”
The captain untied me. An animal howl came from the mine. The captain said, “Slim says it’s nearly time.”
Brandon said, “Soon you will see the first of the mysteries of the Brunckow.”
Things stepped from the shadow of the cabin. Things misty, tall, and thin. They passed through us. When they touched us we could feel the memories. They were the ghost miners. We could feel their determination as they set out from Hamburg, their excitement as they left New York, their desperation as they left the gold fields of Alaska. There were flashes of their childhoods—seeing blue bellies overrun their plantation, shooting at a sky darkened with passenger pigeons, hearing sails flapping on a full-rigged ship. There was something else, too. The becoming aware of Something in the mine. A strange alien stretching of the mind.
The ghosts passed into the mine sustained by that feeling.
Slim howled again.
The captain said, “Slim says that he’s up to the Veil.”
Brandon said, “Come along, Mr. Lyons. I think you’ll find this more exciting than the promise of a New Deal.” He moved the gun in small arcs.
We walked into the mine. The ghosts were less distinct under the electric lights. Each of them labored at walls invisible to us. Possibly they labored at the depth the mine existed at in their times. We skirted the ghost miners with fog picks.
Slim stood buck naked at the end of the shaft. He’d cleared a good four feet since this afternoon. There had been gold in the rock. Gold dust glistened among blood and sweat. He held his pick high over his head, watching us with his time-slowing eyes. Brandon gave a nod and Slim turned to face the gray stone. He lifted his pick and gave a yell and brought the pick down on the stone. The pick bit into the rock and when he pulled it back the electric lights gave out. Something blue— like an alcohol flame—poured from the hole. The ghost miners moaned and began to dissolve into a mist, mixing each with each and entering our lungs. The blue light snaked out and entered Slim’s body. He went stiff. He tried to walk toward us. There was a smell of flesh burning. He fell forward, but the light streamed out of his eyes before he touched bottom. It passed into the captain, who died almost the moment it touched
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