Chapter 108

Sarah POV

“We here CBS News have reached out several times to Abrigan Mine’s project manager, Marge Tellis,” the beta female news correspondent told the camera with great earnestness. Behind her rose a thick plume of gray smoke. “But we have yet to hear from her or from anyone in authority at the mine.”

“But Zane called you?” I asked Travis over the phone. “He’s OK?”

“He said he was fine but that conditions at the mine are deplorable. He sounded pretty angry about it.”

“I can imagine.”

“I’m standing here with a Millie Resnik, who used to work at the coal mine but was let go last year after she was injured in a cave-in,” the reporter said as the camera zoomed out a bit to show a frail-looking human woman with gray hair and rheumy eyes. It was clear she had only her right arm.

“Now, Ms. Resnik, you told me you’d never seen something like this smoke cloud before?”

“That’s right,” the woman wheezed. “Not this big, anyway.”

“This big?”

“Well, it’s a coal seam fire, but for it to be that big as fast as it did, someone had to have used an accelerant, maybe lighter fluid or cooking oil.”

“You don’t seem alarmed by the fire. Shouldn’t we be worried about it?”

Millie shrugged. “If it started with workers down the shaft, they’re dead already.”

“She’s not wrong,” Travis said in my ear.

“I don’t like this,” I said. “Can you come here?”

“I’m actually talking with security on the grounds. What are you thinking?”

“Well, I’m going, obviously. This isn’t just some worker dispute.” My phone beeped. “Hang on, Zane’s calling me.” I pressed the button. “Zane?”

“I don’t want you and the girls to worry,” he said. “I’ve told Travis to keep an eye on you all while I’m here.”

“He can watch the girls just fine. I’m coming there.”

“Sarah, I don’t think—”

“There was a one-armed, sick-looking old human woman on the news. She was working in that mine up until a year ago. Humans are obviously being mistreated there. You’re going to need me.”

I heard him sigh.

“You would be useful, yes. And if you’re coming, have Travis double security and come with you.

“We’ll be there in a few hours. Keep me informed, OK?”

“Yes. I, well.”

“Yes, me too.” I went to press the button to return to Travis, but he’d hung up. Then I heard someone knocking on the door, and in another minute Hans was leading Travis into the sitting room.

“Hans,” I said. “Travis and I will be joining Zane at the mine. Pack the female version of whatever you packed for him, will you?”

“Yes, Miss Sarah,” Hans said with a nod and then left the room.

“Zane sign off on this?” Travis asked.

I nodded. “He said to double security. Do you need to go home to pack?”

“I keep a bag here, actually.”

“OK, let’s say goodbye to the girls.”

We were in the air in a little over an hour, riding comfortably in Zane’s back-up helicopter with four guards all with basic medical training and carrying cases of medical supplies. We were reading over information on the Abrigan Mine. By the time we landed at a dusty airstrip at the bottom of a massive, ridged pit, I had a pretty good guess about what had been going on, and, frankly, I was furious.

Zane met us in a dilapidated trailer that served as the office—desk, file cabinets, chair, computer, and clutter—for Foreman Reynolds, a beta who looked strong and well-fed compared to the humans I had seen so far. I could have torn him a new one except for the chronic worry in his eyes.

“Thank you for coming, Sarah,” Zane told me, putting a warm hand on my shoulder. He nodded to my companion. “Travis.”

“Alpha Zane. Is the rest of it just as bad?”

“Worse.” Zane turned to Reynolds. “Agent Travis here will be overseeing the National Guard when they arrive, liaising with Command Sergeant Major Nelwin when she gets here.” He looked at his watch. “About twenty minutes out, as I understand.”

“How many troops are you bringing in?” Travis asked.

“Nelwin directly commands over 4,000, but the first wave will be about 600. The standing orders are to separate humans and wolves, see to it the wolves are confined and that the humans are medically evaluated.”

“I want to see the site hospital,” I said. I jerked my head to the four guards Travis had brought with us. “They’re ex-army medics.” I looked at Reynolds, who was rubbing his brow. I noticed ligature marks on his wrists.

“What else can we expect besides untreated wounds, malnutrition, and black lung?” I asked.

He looked at me and shrugged, but it was hopeless, not glib. “Other forms of respiratory ailments, broken bones that weren’t treated properly, sleep deprivation.”

Zane shook his head. “Be careful, Sarah. To amuse themselves, the supervisors around here said the latest round of pay cuts was your fault.”

“My fault?”

“They made you out to be some sort of gold digger who’s been squeezing the pack’s resources dry.”

I nodded. “Well, forewarned is forearmed.” I looked at the complement of medic-guards and nodded. “We’ll watch each other’s backs.”

That got a few grim smiles while Reynolds walked the two steps to the trailer door, opened it, and called out, “Carter!”

A young beta woman with coal dust in her blond hair came to the door. “Yeah, Foreman?”

“Take Astor and her Four Horsemen to the clinic.”

Carter nodded and made eye contact with me before turning around. I hurried after her with the guards at my back. I was grateful for Zane’s warning, and even more grateful to Travis, as we passed by crowds of hostile-looking humans standing outside more old trailers.

The unpaved ground was crisscrossed with railroad tracks, and the whole place smelled like a musty basement, and occasionally I got whiffs of rotten eggs, which I assumed was sulfur, and the harsh reek of the coal fire still burning away in what I now knew was Shaft #18A.

A new smell joined those in my nose: disinfectant over blood and something putrid. A trailer larger but now newer than the others came up on our right, and Carter led us there. She knocked once and opened the door, and the wave of foulness that came out almost made me lose my lunch.

Then I remembered I hadn’t eaten. Well, that was probably a good thing.

Inside were beds crammed together, all filled with bodies. It looked like something out of a WWII army hospital. All that was missing were bombs falling around us.

“Where’s the doctor in charge?” I asked.

No one answered, not even Carter, whom I glared at.

“No one’s minding the canaries right now,” she said finally, and instead of slapping her across her face, I just looked at Travis’s people.

“You can leave now,” one of them, a beta male, told Carter before he walked to the nearest bed and pulled a white coat, pen light, and stethoscope out of his case. The others did the same, and I stood watch to see how I could help.

I didn’t have to stand there long.