Jim Walters secured his hard hat and entered the elevator, looking everywhere but at his eighteen-year-old son, JJ. JJ stared wide-eyed at all the new sights and stepped into the metal cage with a sense of awe. For twenty-five years his father had descended into the bowels of the earth at Jameson Mine #5, and now he was entering the tabernacle of King Coal for the first time.

The elevator rattled to life with a metallic groan and a reluctant shudder before settling in to a steady downward glide.

“This here is JJ Walters,” said Perkins, the shift boss, by way of introduction, while the elevator hummed in the background. “He’ll be teamed with me until I decide he’s not going to kill anyone.” Perkins turned to JJ. He could see the blush rising in the young man’s cheeks even in the dim light of the elevator's single, dusty bulb. “You stick with me, boy. The less you do today, the better we’ll get along.”

Three-and-a-half minutes and two thousand feet later, JJ was working his jaw furiously in an effort to relieve the pressure in his ears.

The men piled out of the elevator and onto two manbusses for the three-mile trip to the end of the tunnel. JJ followed Perkins onto the second manbus. Jim waited until his son boarded and then got on the other manbus.

The end of the tunnel loomed in the headlights when the first manbus, with Jim perched on the back, turned down a side branch. JJ watched his father disappear into the blackness. JJ’s vehicle rolled to a stop at the end of the tunnel. He saw a fine dust suspended in the twin beams of the headlights. Coal dust: the demon that had killed his grandfather, his uncle, and now manifested itself in his dad’s persistent cough.

He and his dad had had heated arguments when he had announced his intention to work in the mine. JJ, fully in the throes of youthful immortality and familial pride, scoffed at any notion of black lung. Now his first view of the enemy, present at every turn of his headlamp, began to weaken his convictions. He imagined gritty tendrils snaking into his lungs with every breath.

The team gathered around Perkins when a deep rumble echoed through the mine. A fissure bigger than his fist appeared above their heads and raced down the tunnel. The sharp crack of steel reinforcing rods snapping overhead sent JJ diving to the ground. A small section of roof one hundred feet back down the tunnel crashed to the floor.

The noise died down and JJ looked up to see the other five miners smirking at his discomfort.

“Welcome to Hell,” Perkins chuckled. “Just a little roof fall. Let’s shore up that break. Otis, you get to the phone and put in a call for the roofers.”

The team was stacking timbers under the fallen roof when a wave of thunder rolled down the tunnel.

“Hit the deck!” yelled Perkins.

A searing wave of black dust knocked JJ to the ground.

Perkins jumped up and ordered everyone to sound off. Everyone replied but Otis.

“Jenkins, Rats, you go find Otis. Walters, you get back to the elevator and go up top to make sure words gets out. Everyone else, follow me. We’ll find the other crew.”

“But my dad…” JJ protested.

Perkins put a hand in his chest. “You,” he said in a low, tight voice, “will go back to the elevator and go up top.”

JJ headed down the tunnel at a jog. He tested each phone he passed, with no luck. He reached the elevator shaft and pressed the button to summon the car.

An eternal three-and-a-half minutes later he boarded the car and headed to the surface.

He related the situation to the foreman as best he could. The foreman sounded an alarm and put out the call for a rescue team. Within moments a squad ran into the elevator and disappeared down the shaft.

JJ paced the yard. The minutes stretched into an hour. He couldn’t summon the courage to call his mom. Each time the elevator rose to daylight and disgorged its cargo, he searched the soot-begrimed faces for his father.

Jim Walters emerged from the darkness on the elevator’s third trip. He caught sight of his son and they raced into an embrace.

“Where’s Perkins?” JJ asked.

“There was another explosion. I don’t think he made it.”

“You don’t think?” blurted JJ. “He could be trapped down there.”

He pushed past his father and headed toward the elevator. Jim grabbed his son’s shoulder, spun him around, and unleashed a solid right hook on his jaw. JJ crumpled. Jim stood astride his son and waited until he regained his senses.

“JJ, if you ever set foot in that mine again, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

“But…”

“Never. Never again.”

Jim Walters turned and headed toward the payphone.

Mike stood in front of the only working elevator on the bottom floor of 122 Water Street, trying to decide if he was going to go up. He had started his job there only a couple weeks before, excited for a new opportunity. But that excitement quickly turned to dread as he worked each day sharing a cubicle with Kevin; a know-it-all with strange anecdotes for everything.

It took less than a week for Mike to figure out why no one ever stopped by to talk to him. The constant stories and incessant chatter made everyone want to stay away, including Mike.

A few moments passed, and he found himself sitting at his desk again, praying Kevin wouldn’t show up. Unfortunately, his prayers weren’t answered. He could hear his heavy footsteps approaching.

"Hey Mike," Kevin began after only a couple minutes of silence. "Have you ever wondered why this place has only one working elevator? That other one’s been ‘Out of Order’ for years.”

"Umm, that's interesting," Mike mumbled, keeping his eyes fixed on his computer screen.

"Well, it actually is," Kevin whispered, grabbing the back of Mike's chair and pulling it closer. "There's a reason it's broken. And I'm the only one in this office who knows why."

"Oh really," Mike smirked, keeping his focus on his computer.

"Yeah," Kevin continued whispering, leaning in even closer. "I can show you."

"Uh, that's ok," Mike stammered, getting up from his chair to get some space. "Isn't it coffee time?"

Kevin stood and slapped his hand on Mike's back. "Sure!" he bellowed. "I'll go get some for you, buddy."

"Oh, that's alright," Mike answered dryly. "I can use the exercise.”

Kevin wrapped his thick fingers around Mike's upper arm and whispered into his ear, "You chicken?"

"Chicken?" Mike asked, pulling his arm out of Kevin's grasp. "I'm just getting some coffee. What are you talking about?"

"You don't want to know about the elevator," Kevin taunted.

"Um, I don't care about the elevator," Mike said, annoyed. "I'm going for coffee. I'll be back in a couple minutes."

"Chicken," Kevin sneered under his breath.

"Fine!" Mike exclaimed, even more annoyed. "Show me why the stinkin' elevator is broken and let me get some coffee!"

Kevin wrapped his arm around Mike’s neck and spoke so close, his lips touched Mike’s ear. “You can’t tell a soul,” he whispered vehemently. “Not a word.”

A shiver ran down Mike’s spine. Kevin had always been strange, but the way he spoke now made him seem more than just annoying. He seemed almost crazy; like one of those guys who comes in one day and shoots half his coworkers because they never invited him to lunch.

“Umm, ok, buddy,” Mike said cautiously. “I can keep a secret.”

“Good,” Kevin said, staring right into Mike’s eyes. “Follow me.”

As they walked down the long hallway towards the lobby, Mike looked around, trying to catch the eye of anyone who was paying attention. Absolutely no one was looking up from their computers. Even the receptionist was busy as they passed by her desk and entered the large lobby that held the building’s two elevators.

Mike stopped at the orange cone in front of the far elevator. Kevin kept walking.

“Hey wait!” Mike shouted. “Aren’t you going to show me?”

“I can’t show you here,” Kevin whispered forcefully. “Come on.”

He motioned for Mike to follow him through a door into the stairway at the end of the corridor, and reluctantly, Mike complied. The two men stepped down the dimly lit staircase to the third floor, where Kevin finally stopped. “You have to be quiet,” he instructed Mike sharply.

He opened the door slowly, exposing a long, dark hallway.

“Where are the lights?” Mike asked uneasily.

“Don’t worry,” Kevin snapped. He stepped behind Mike and gave him a nudge forward, into the quiet hallway. Mike looked around anxiously as they approached the elevator doors in the empty lobby.

“You have to show me here?” Mike questioned.

“You’ll see,” Kevin assured him, stepping to the front of the broken elevator. He placed his stubby fingers into the crack where the elevator doors joined and began to pry them open. “Check this out,” he whispered to Mike.

The doors began to move apart, exposing a dimly lit elevator car, with a dark shape slumped against the back wall. Mike approached the doors slowly, trying to make out what was inside. He gasped as he realized what the shape was. “What the hell!” he exclaimed, turning to Kevin.

Immediately, he felt a violent thud. He reached for his head, and a thick rush of blood covered his hands and ran down his arms. As he fell to the ground, he could see Kevin standing over him; a large metal pipe in his hands.

“Sorry, buddy,” Kevin mumbled as he dragged Mike’s body into the elevator. “I just couldn’t stand sharing a cubicle with you any more.”