The accident investigator checked his handheld. Kat, Sadler and Lambert were seated around him once again in the miner’s courtyard. “Thank you for your testimony, Ms. Smith,” the man said before offering a wry smile. “This is becoming a thing.”
Sadler had insisted on giving Kat time to clean herself and calm down after the near lethal accident. She had miraculously survived with nothing more than bruising from the larger chunks of coal that had pummeled her. After inspecting herself alone inside a trailer, she had refused medical attention, more anxious to get the interview completed rather than delay it with a trip to the hospital.
She shrugged weakly. “I hope not. I’m not sure I can take much more excitement.”
“And I’m not sure Porter can afford it,” Lambert added disdainfully. “She’s shut down the entire spur until we can clean up that mess and replace the last three conveyor sections.” He spat on the ground in disgust.
“We shut down the spur,” Sadler corrected while pointing between Lambert and himself. “When you told me not to draft one of Twenty-eight’s laborers to fill in as a dryman. I told you that one person can’t handle two spurs for that long.” He looked demonstratively at Kat. “And I don’t give a damn about a section or two of conveyors. We’re lucky no one was killed.” He leaned back and folded his arms defiantly. “Hell, we’re lucky Ms. Smith kept the coal dust down so much that those sparks didn’t ignite the whole goddamned tunnel.”
Lambert leaned over the table and jabbed a finger at Sadler. “Always sticking up for your people, aren’t you? You can’t see the big picture and that’s why you’ll never be more than a simple assistant.” He shook his head. “None of the other divisions have problems like this. No one on the night shift has problems like this.”
“Gentlemen,” the investigator interjected, raising a hand to signal for calm. “Let’s stay focused on the incident. Based on each of your testimonies, I’m not likely to find fault with Ms. Smith. I’m not sure why a dryman with less than a week’s experience was given so much responsibility.”
Lambert nodded in agreement. “Exactly!” He pointed at Kat. “She’s your worker, Sadler. More than that, you recommended her and it’s been one disaster after another. You said she could handle the job. This reflects on both of you.”
“I didn’t say she could work both spurs,” Sadler protested.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Lambert said, cutting him off. “We’ll take the proper actions once the accident report comes out.” He stood from the table and ominously faced Kat. “HR wants to talk to you.” Without further word, the foreman trudged off toward the mine.
The investigator thanked Kat and Sadler again and excused himself, leaving them alone.
“Am I fired?” Kat asked glumly.
Sadler reached out and took her hand. “Not unless I am too. They would’ve told me otherwise.”
“I’m sorry, Sadler,” Kat said, looking miserable. “I tried my best.”
“It’s not your fault. We set you up to fail,” Sadler admitted. “Nobody could have kept both spurs clean.” His eyes tracked to Lambert disappearing into the mine. “I know there’s a ton of pressure to fill the new quotas but all I had to do was switch Tony from laborer to dryman for the rest of the week. It would’ve been easy.” He stared into the distance before refocusing on Kat. “I’m just so thankful you weren’t hurt. You could’ve been killed.”
The depth of concern made Kat’s heart quiver. “I’m just sorry that I’m causing you so much trouble. Maybe I’m bad luck.”
Sadler chuffed slightly at her comment. “I kind of look at it the other way. How many of my people did you help in the hospital quad last week? Then, you saved that truck driver from serious injury or worse and today, because you’ve worked your heart out, we avoided a dust explosion that could’ve dropped the entire spur.”
Kat stared at the wooden tabletop. His hand still covered her own.
“In fact, you’re my good luck charm, Kat. Things always seem better when you’re around.”
She wanted to shrink inside her overalls and burst out of their seams at the same time. She willed the words past her lips. “My life has certainly improved since I’ve met you,” she forced out. Say more, you coward! “I… I suppose I should see what Human Resources wants.”
Sadler gave her hand a quick squeeze before relinquishing it. “If you need to talk afterwards, find me. Spur Twenty-eight is out of commission and I have Deke pulling dryman duties on Twenty-nine.”
Kat nodded and left him at the table. The office trailers were positioned behind the miner’s trailers, close to the makeshift parking lot that held nearly a dozen aircars. She walked across the blackened earth toward the largest trailer that served as a hub for high-level management. Inside the main door was a small service area. She introduced herself to the only representative at the desk, who called a manager before asking Kat to take a seat.
Kat sat on a comfortable couch and leaned her head back to rest against the trailer wall. While she waited, she watched the ebb and flow of the office. Executive assistants ducked into the area to ask short questions or bark terse orders and the representative Kat had talked to relayed the information using the communications system on her desk.
The hustle in the office reminded Kat how exhausted she was. Sitting on the couch, seemingly forgotten, she felt the tensions of both the strenuous work and the drama of the week ease from her sore muscles. Her eyelids drooped lazily and she lost all track of time. In her daze, a hallway door nearest the front office opened and a quartet of immaculately dressed executives walked from the room beyond.
“As you can see, Mr. Porter, we’re increasing our production forecast for the quarter and we’ll switch to a 24/7 sprint to meet it.”
The man in the middle of the group grunted. “We must improve our production by the end of the month. If we don’t show growth, our stock price will dip even more and Recore Extraction already has a thirty-two percent interest in my company. If we can fend them off until mid-August, the Porter Power’s profits report will drive our stock through the roof. I won’t let Recore steal my company out from under me when we’re so close!”
“Yes, sir,” answered an enthusiastic executive.
The foursome strode past Kat without a second’s consideration on their way out the door. When it closed behind them, the woman at the front desk issued an audible sigh of relief.
“Ms. Smith?” Kat’s head jerked forward as she opened her eyes. A man stood over her in the standard ripstop trouser and collared shirt uniform that was the hallmark of low-level managers. “Please come with me, Miss.”
Kat took several deep breaths to clear her head as the man escorted her back to his office. Once they were seated, he introduced himself as Mr. Vincent and explained the dilemma. “Ms. Smith, we’ve had a curious return on your job application.” He shuffled through a stack of papers before pulling a folder from the pile. He withdrew a single sheet from inside the file.
Kat’s heart went into overdrive. Did Doctor Reynolds not confirm my job experience? She remained silent but began to chew the inside of her lip nervously.
“You see,” Vincent continued, “the results of your background check claim that your name is Kallista Pendleton.” The man frowned while staring intently at the paper.
The blood drained from Kat’s face at the mention of the name. Her tightening throat and twisting stomach accompanied the deathly pallor. She tried to swallow.
The manager looked up from the report in his hands. “Ms. Smith, are you okay?”
She nodded, unable to speak. After several moments, she inhaled slowly and answered in a trembling voice, “Yes. I’m just confused.” She exhaled in unsteady spurts. “I’m Kat Smith,” she insisted.
The man smiled genuinely. “Of course you are,” he agreed. His voice was sympathetic. “Ms. Smith, we know you aren’t lying to us. It’s impossible.”
Kat stared blankly at him.
“You see,” Vincent said, waving the paper gently, “Kallista Pendleton is dead. You can’t be her.” He read from the sheet. “Born August fourth, Twenty-one Ninety-one, died August ninth of the same year.” He frowned. “She was just five days old…”
“H-how did she die?”
“Um...” His eyebrows crinkled together as he scanned the document. “Cause of death was Pelletier’s Syndrome. Poor girl didn’t even make it out of the hospital.”
Kat’s mind still reeled from the shock of hearing her name. She was certain it belonged to her. What is Pelletier’s Syndrome? “W-what should I do?” Her voice still quivered.
“I’ve already accomplished the proper paperwork,” he assured. “I just need a second DNA sample.” He pulled out a fresh DNA capture stick from the file and placed it on the desktop. “Sometimes we get bad sticks, although usually the analysis from Northport is just that the stick was unreadable. This is the first time one’s actually matched to someone else.”
Kat pressed her finger to the stick and its light turned a bright green.
Vincent smiled. “There. This will, naturally, delay your official hire but it’s just more paperwork for me. You won’t see a difference.” He plucked the stick off his desk and dropped it back into the folder before motioning toward the door. “That’s all I needed, Ms. Smith. You may return to work.”
Kat left the air-conditioned trailer and shuffled toward the mine. She felt adrift, almost disconnected from her body. Kallista Pendleton was her name. Why did I think it was Kat? How can I be Kallista? She’s been dead… almost twenty-five years. She stumbled over a rut gouged into the ground by one of the dozens of vehicles racing through the site. Push it aside for now. You still have a job to do… Kat. Her name was Kat; everyone she knew called her that. She didn’t care what a piece of paper or her instincts said. As she approached the mine’s entrance, a wheeled truck swung near her and its brakes squeaked the vehicle to a stop. Sadler hopped out of the passenger’s side and trotted to her.
“Heading back down?” he asked as he slid open the safety cage to an elevator door. “What did HR want?”
Kat stepped into the small compartment ahead of him. “Bad DNA return. They needed another sample.” She tried to push her swirling uncertainty into a tight box. Compartmentalize, Kat. Work now, think later.
Sadler engaged the motor and the car jerked to begin its descent. The trip began in an awkward silence. He looked around the car shyly before saying, “I’m trying to time my next question so you can answer right as we make it to the bottom. It’ll eliminate the awkward silence if you tell me no.” He smiled with his boyish charm. “All of Porter’s miners have access to Waytown every Saturday night. There’s a casino downtown where they’re allowed to blow off steam. I think it’s mostly so Waytown can get the money back that Porter’s paid them each Friday but it’s usually a good time. There’s food, shows, even gambling if you like it.” He paused and disengaged the elevator’s motor. “Kat,” he asked as he pulled at his collar, “would you like to go with me Saturday night?”
Kat wondered which of them was blushing deeper. She bounced lightly up and down and answered quickly, “Yes!”
Sadler exhaled dramatically and restarted the car. It clanged to a stop seconds later. “Can I pick you up?”
“No!” Kat answered just as forcefully while shaking her head. There was no way she would let him see her alley in Shantytown. “Maybe I can meet you?”
Sadler nodded. “Okay. The casino is called The Lucky Gun. It’s the only one in town. In the front lobby, there’s a big fountain at the center. How about we meet by the fountain at seven tomorrow night?”
Kat leaned to him and grabbed both of his hands. She squeezed them excitedly and said, “I’ll be there.” After rocking back, she opened the safety cage with the strength of five women. The cage crashed loudly as it hit the end of its track and Kat ducked her head guiltily. “Oops.” She faced him again and unleashed a dazzling smile. “I’ll see you Saturday, Sadler!” She lowered her miner’s mask and bounded down the tunnel.