Smiling, it sent the Justice Wagon around Seth Garin in two slow, beautiful circles. Then it swept the fantasies out of its head. They were lovely fantasies, though. Perhaps even attainable fantasies, if it could gain enough essence from the remaining people across the street-the stuff that came out of them when they died.
“It’s getting to be time,” it said. “Roundup time.”
It closed its eyes, using the circuits of Seth’s memory to visualize the Power Wagons… especially the Meatwagon, which would lead this assault. No Face driving, Countess Lili co-piloting, and Jeb Murdock in the gunner’s turret. Because Murdock was the meanest.
Eyes closed, fresh power lighting up its mind like Fourth of July fireworks bursting in the summer sky, Tak began the job of powering up. It would take a little while, but now that things had gotten this far, it had time.
Soon enough, the regulators would come.
“Get ready, folks,” Tak whispered. Seth’s fists were clenched at the ends of its arms, clenched and shaking. “You just get ready, because we’re gonna wipe this town off the map.”
Allen Symes worked for the Deep Earth Mining Corporation in the capacity of Geological Mining Engineer for twenty-six years, from 1969 to late 1995. Shortly before Christmas of 1995, he retired and moved to Clearwater, Florida, where he died of a heart attack on September 19th,
1996. The document which follows was found in his desk by his daughter. It was in a sealed envelope marked CONCERNS STRANGE INCIDENT IN CHINA PIT and READ AFTER MY DEATH, PLS.
This document is presented here exactly as it was found.
I am writing this for three reasons. First, I want to clarify something that happened fifteen months ago, in the summer of 1994. Second, I am hoping to ease my conscience, which had settled down some but has been considerably stirred up again ever since the Wyler woman wrote me from Ohio and I lied to her in my response. I don’t know if a man can ease his conscience by writing things down in hopes they will be read later, but it’s worth a try, I guess; and I may want to show this to someone-maybe even the Wyler woman-after I retire. Third, I can’t get the way that little boy grinned out of my mind.
The way he grinned.
I lied to Mrs Wyler to protect the company, and to protect my job, but most of all because I could lie. July 24th, 1994 was a Sunday, the place was deserted, and I was the only one who saw them. I wouldn’t have been there either, if I hadn’t had paperwork to catch up on. Anyone who thinks being a mining engineer is all excitement and travel should see the tons of reports and forms I’ve had to plow through over the years!
Anyway, I was just finishing for the day when a Volvo station wagon pulled up out front and this whole family got out. I want to say here that I have never seen such excited people who weren’t going to the circus in my whole life. They looked like the people on the TV ads who have just won the Publishers” Clearing House Sweepstakes!
There were five of them: Dad (the Ohio woman’s brother, he would have been), Mom, Big Brother, Big Sis, and Little Brother. LB looked to be four or so, although having read the Wyler woman’s letter (which was sent in July of this year), I know now he was a little older, just small for his age.
Anyway, I saw them arrive from the window by the desk where I had all my papers spread out. Clear as day, I saw them. They dithered around their car for a minute or two, pointing to the embankment south of town, just as excited as chickens in a rainstorm, and then the little guy dragged his Dad toward the office trailer.
All this occurred at Deep Earth’s Nevada HQ, a double-wide trailer which is located about two miles off the main drag (Highway 50), on the outskirts of Desperation, a town known for its silver mining around the time of the Civil War. Our main mining operation these days is the China Pit, where we are leaching copper. Strip mining is what the “green people” call it, of course, although it’s really not so bad as they like to make out.
Anyway, Little Brother pulled his Daddy right up the trailer steps, and I heard him say, “Knock, Daddy, there’s someone home, I know there is.” Dad looked surprised as heck at that, although I didn’t know why, since my car was parked right out front, “big as Billy be damned”. I soon found out it wasn’t what the little tyke was saying but that he was saying anything at all!
Father looked around at the rest of his clan, and all of them said the same thing, knock on the door, knock on the door, go on and knock on the door! Excited as hell. Sort of funny and cute, too. I was curious, I’ll freely admit it. I could see their license plate, and just couldn’t figure what a family from Ohio was doing way the hell and gone out in Desperation on a Sunday afternoon. If Dad hadn’t got up nerve enough to knock, I was going to go out myself and pass the time of day with him. “Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back,” you know!
But he knocked, all right, and as soon as I opened the door, the little tyke went running in right past me! Right over to the wall he went, to the same bulletin board where Sally put up Mrs Wyler’s letter when it came in, marking it CAN ANYONE HELP THIS LADY in big red-ink letters.
The tyke tapped the aerial photographs of the China Pit we kept tacked on the bulletin board, one after the other. Maybe you had to be there to understand how strange it was, but take my word for it. It was like he’d been in the office a dozen times before.
“Here it is, Daddy!” he said, tapping his way around those pictures. “Here it is! Here it is! Here’s the mine, the silver mine!”
“Well,” I said, kind of laughing, “it’s copper, sonny, but I guess that’s close enough.”
Mr Garin gave me a red-faced look and said, “I’m sorry, we don’t mean to barge in.” Then he barged in himself and grabbed his little boy up. I was some amused. Couldn’t help but be.
He carried the tyke back out to the steps, where he must have thought they belonged. Being from Ohio, I don’t guess he knew we take barging around pretty much for granted out in Nevada. The tyke didn’t kick or have a tantrum, but his eyes never left those photos on the bulletin board. He looked as cute as a papoose, peeking over his Daddy’s shoulder with his little bright eyes. The rest of the family clustered around down below, staring up. The bigger kids were near bursting with excitement, and Mom looked pretty much in the same emotions.
Father said they were from Toledo, then introduced himself, his wife, and the two big kids. “And this is Seth,” he finished up. “Seth is a special child.”
“Why, I thought they were all special,” I said, and stuck out my hand. “Put “er there, Seth; I’m Allen Symes.” He shook with me right smart. The rest of the family looked flabbergasted, his Dad in particular, although I couldn’t see why. My own Dad taught me to shake hands when I was just three; it’s not hard, like learning to juggle or floating aces up to the top of the deck. But things got clearer to me before long.
“Seth wants to know if he can see the mountain,” Mr Garin says, and pointed at the China Pit. The north face does look a little like a mountain. “I think he actually means the mine-”
“Yes!” the tyke says. “The mine! Seth want to see the mine! Seth want to see the silver mine! Hoss! Little Joe! Adam! Hop Sing!”
I busted out laughing at that, it’d been so long since I’d heard those names, but the rest of “em didn’t. They just went on looking at that little boy like he was Jesus teaching the elders in the temple.
“Well,” I says, “if you want to look at the Ponderosa Ranch, son, I believe you can, although it’s a good way west of here. And there’s mine-tours, too, some where they ride you right underground in a real ore gondola. The best is probably the Betty Carr, in Fallen. There’s no tours of the China Pit, though. It’s a working mine, and not as interesting as the old gold and silver shafts. Yonder wall that looks like a mountain to you is nothing but one side of a big hole in the ground.”