The people Shine Company hired to work the shine mines always fell into two groups. Those who were large and burly, men who didn’t mind hard labor, lifting and smashing for hours on end, and the small boys whose families were so destitute they had to send their kids off so the family waiting at home could have enough money to eat their next meal.
The boys were what did him in. Those small bodies, whipcord thin, and so very young. They’d fit in the smallest mine passageways. They could go where grown men couldn’t, and so they mined for anywhere from ten to twelve hours a day, digging out rock, sending all their pay home.
He knew this. He was the son of the owner of the company. Of course, he’d been taught how things ran. But it was another thing entirely to actually see it.
“I understand the shock. I felt it too when I first came out here, but think of it like this,” Elroy said, obviously following the direction of Arlen’s of thoughts. He wondered if this was a shock everyone felt upon seeing the realities of life out here for the first time. “Those kids, those entire families, would have died if it wasn’t for the opportunity to work that we offer them. It’s hard, back-breaking, but we feed them, clothe them, take care of their health concerns, and send their wages home so their families don’t starve. It’s ugly, Arlen, but we’re doing them a service.” Elroy paused. “It’s no different back home. How many kids do you see working in the factories, the mills? It’s an ugly fact of life.”
“I wonder,” Arlen replied, “do they see it that way?”
Elroy shrugged. “There are always discontents, but most people stay quiet. In the end, we all just want to live. It looks grim out that window right now, but every boy leaving to work the mines today represents one family that isn’t starving because of him. Hopefully, it won’t always have to be like this.”
The train started moving again, slowly picking up speed. The next stop would be in an hour or so, in Grove. Between the two towns was nothing but sprawling countryside speckled by farms and livestock, a few cabins here and there. If he had his paints and brushes, Arlen would have loved to stand out there at sunset, and set the landscape on canvas. Immortalize it.
“Tell me—" Elroy began.
The train lurched, brakes screaming on the line.
“Are we scheduled to stop?” Arlen asked.
Something was wrong. He knew it the same way he knew the sun was shining outside. Elroy grabbed a pistol from his coat pocket, and Arlen immediately felt the lack of the same. He hadn’t even thought of a pistol. They were so rare, far too expensive, it never crossed his mind. His eyes flashed to the small vials of shine on Elroy’s belt, enough to fill up a few extra rounds of his gun, if needed. Arlen could get one and…
And what? He couldn’t manipulate shine, which meant any gun he held wouldn’t fire. It would be a toy, not a weapon.
Suddenly, all this wide-open sky felt threatening. Anything could happen out here, between stations, between towns, between spots of civilization, and who could save him? Who would even know?
The train screeched to a halt, cars bumping against cars. Thrown off his seat, his body went sprawling, his head banging into the wall, blurring his vision and making his ears ring. Then, everything went silent and still.
Too silent.
Too still.
All he could hear was the rasp of his breath and the pounding of his heart while his blood sought refuge in the harbor of his heart.
“Stay down,” Elroy hissed, pistol out, feet braced. He wasn’t the easygoing coworker anymore. No, this man was the bodyguard. A man with a gun in his hand, and every intention to use it. This was a side of Elroy he had never seen. His commanding presence. Those flexed muscles. The body coiled, waiting to strike.
His vision narrowed to a pinpoint until all he was aware of was the quiet. So much quiet.
“Hand me something,” Arlen hissed. “A stick, a pole. Anything loose. Hand me something, damn it.” He was whispering, the words a sibilant hiss. It surprised him, this sudden, overwhelming desire to defend himself, though all either of them knew was that the train was stopped. Nothing more. No immediate threat. Nothing to worry about.