A beeping sound penetrated the silence that had descended on the trio overlooking the closed mine.
“Oh, excuse me.” Fenster pulled out a cell phone out of the back pocket of his pants and flipped it open. “Hello?”
Mel wrapped the strap to her camera around her wrist and took another look at the mines. Nope, she had no desire to go down there and investigate, even if the structural integrity of the place was completely sound.
“All right. Okay. Fine. I’ll be right there.” The mine owner flipped his cell phone closed and replaced it in his back pocket. “Sorry folks, but I’ve really got to be going. There’s a bit of a snafu with one of the events the mayor is at. I guess the guys there think I’m the only one who can fix the thing. If you two still want to take a look around, you’re welcome to.”
“Yes, I think I’ll take a couple more pictures,” said Mel.
“Take all the photos that you want. Just don’t go into the mines. It’ll be my head if you disappear down there, you know.”
The two journalists nodded and the mine owner waved a farewell to them as he walked back to his truck at the office building. For another moment, the two of them stood on the hill overlooking the mine, the late morning breeze picking up and whipping their hair. Mel made no move to take any more pictures.
“I wouldn’t really say that it’s like the moon,” said Stuart finally. “It’s more like a wound in the earth. Maybe, since the mine is finally closed, it will slowly heal itself.”
“You sound like a moody environmentalist,” she remarked. “Maybe you should publish some poems or start working for some tree hugger agency.”
“Would it be so bad to do that?” But he was grinning. “You know, that guy seemed to have read my mind. I don’t even think the structural integrity of that mine is all that bad. I want to take a look around inside. Maybe there’s something interesting.”
“That’s suicidal.”
“No, it’s just my nosy reporter instincts kicking in.”
“Well, even if you wanted to, you’d need a flashlight. And we don’t have one. Unless you think you can see in the dark?”
“Okay, so you have a point. We’ll just stand out here and stare at the thing and maybe some answers will pop up.”
“Hm. So I never got a chance to ask you before—what did you find out from that painter, Laurent de Matheus?”
“He was definitely with Mad Dog when he was visiting Gavot,” replied Stuart, “But he didn’t want to admit that he gave the necklace to him. I think he’s trying to hide something.”
“Lloyd Fenster was trying to hide something too.” Mel finally put her camera back into her bag and sighed. “And that thing from last night. This is getting weird.”
“To say the least.” Stuart frowned. “Promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Don’t go out alone with someone you don’t know. And definitely try not to be alone with that painter guy.”
“What are you, jealous?”
“That guy just gives me the creeps. And I’m pretty sure he has designs on your bodily person.”
“I sort of figured that out the first time I met him,” replied Mel. “Besides, don’t you have the same ideas?”
“But I’m not him.”
“True.”
The wind turned stronger and began to tug at their clothes. The sun overhead was suddenly obscured by a large gray cloud and the air abruptly turned cooler, forcing the journalists to unconsciously hug their jackets closer to their bodies. Bits of rocks rollicked with the wind and made clacking sounds as they hit against each other. The yellow warning tape flapped like bright warning banners.
“Maybe if we walk over there a little ways,” began Stuart, but his voice was suddenly cut off by the howling wind which was sucked toward the mine. It was as if the mine had turned into the maw of a vacuum, sucking in everything and anything. The two journalists braced themselves on the hill, perhaps for a moment, fighting what nature was throwing at them.
And just as suddenly, the wind reversed course as if it had changed its mind like a fickle tantrum throwing child and it was blowing towards them. The clacking of rocks grew louder and no longer did the pebbles rustle at their feet. Sand and tiny rocks began hurtling through the air, bouncing against their clothes, stinging their exposed skin. It was as if the vacuum had been turned in reverse and now the mine was belching material back into them.
Mel and Stuart simultaneously took a step back. The howling wind had become a roar and it was as if the land was rebelling against the two humans trying to find out what was happening, what the answers to the questions were, prying into something that they had no business prying into. The wind, or what was creating the wind, was ferociously angry. Larger stones began to pelt them and Mel gave a startled cry as a rock hit her leg with unprecedented force. Stuart grabbed her hand and pulled her away, down the hill. They jogged and then ran as the wind pursued them, throwing dirt and pebbles and small rocks. It felt as if they were running in a dreamscape, never getting anywhere as tracts of gray dirt seemed endless. The office building near the road seemed forever far away.
But finally, they reached the rental car—but the wind wasn’t letting up. Bits of rock pinged against the car doors and the windshield. The journalists climbed in and Stuart started the engine up even before he had time to recover his breath. The car spluttered to life and soon, they were jostling back down the road, heading back toward some semblance of tamed civilization.
Mel looked back as they sped away. The office building was now covered in a gray haze as the sudden dust devil engulfed the land outside the horn silver mine.
