The Card

By Peter A. LaPorta

Congratulations! You have been selected by the Foundation to take part in a social experiment for the duration of 365 days. Do not waste time. Use your card to purchase anything you like, and you will never be responsible for paying anything back monetarily. Failure to comply with any and all of the rules of the program may result in serious consequences, deathly consequences . . .

The Card Program is the brainchild of an eccentric billionaire and operated by the Foundation, a covert division of the US government. One man pulls the strings of the cardholders he treats like puppets—Colonel Putnam. Day by day, each cardholder wields their unlimited buying power for one extravagance after another. As they cross the line and break the strict rules of the program, Putnam hunts them down and makes them play by his rules or else . . .

When the Colonel and his henchman cross too far over the line and the body count starts to rise, who will bring him to justice? Can the cardholders find each other in time to ban together and bring him down, or will Putnam crush them in the process? Will the government reel in one of their own, or will everything explode around them?

From the mines of West Virginia to the shores of Mexico, you will be transported on an exciting journey around the states and into foreign lands. Come along on this thrilling adventure of suspense and intrigue as page after page brings you closer to the climactic conclusion of The Card.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781728309460

Peter A. LaPorta

Peter A. LaPorta is the International Best-Selling Author of eight previous titles of Fiction and Non-Fiction. A former leader at Walt Disney World and Universal Studios, he is an award-winning speaker and leader heralded all over the world for his excellence and achievement. Through various mediums including print, television, and radio, his words have resonated to audiences around the globe. His breakout non-fiction book, "Ignite the Passion, A Guide to Motivational Leadership" was named by Amazon to be in the top 20 motivational leadership books of all time. He burst into the Fiction scene with "Normandy Nights", a finalist for Best Historical Fiction by Author Academy Awards. His follow up blockbuster, "The Card" was nominated for Best Thriller Fiction by Author Elite Awards. His suspense thriller, Turtle Master, A Passage through Time, brought audiences to the edge of their seats as they traveled the world with a serial killer. His latest work, The Widow’s Box- A Test of Time takes a more poignant turn as you travel through time and generations, promising to entertain you from this Master in Entertainment himself. For more information on Peter and his incredible journey visit http://laportaenterprises.com.

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© 2019 Peter A. LaPorta. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  04/27/2019

ISBN: 978-1-7283-0947-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-0945-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-0946-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019905032

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

PART ONE

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

PART TWO

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

PART THREE

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Author’s Note

Also Available From Peter A. LaPorta

"Ignite the Passion

A Guide to Motivational Leadership"

Who Hired These People?

A Quote For Every Day

Adventures in Autism

Adventures in Leadership

Normandy Nights

For…

Angel-who is always searching for her card.

Amber, Hope and Sara-who always want to use the card

Peter Jr.- who could care less about the card.

To schedule a speaker event, book signing or a seminar, please access our website at

http://laportaenterprises.com

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

Case: Moran, Kathleen

Day: 385

Somewhere in Virginia

The thick blanket of fog still hung to the curves of the hillside as the morning sun rose above the horizon. Each ray of sunshine burned through as the black SUV sped along the mountain road. The day had been productive and started hours before, even as the rest of Virginia barely poured their morning coffee.

The quiet and peace of the drive was a nice change to how the rest of the day had been. The driver thought back to the hours before as he cruised along to his final destination. The day really began the night before as he sat in the car on the residential street. They had come home as such a warm, loving family without a care in the world. The husband and wife walked in the house holding their son as they carried him in from the back seat where he slept. To the uneducated eye, it was a picture perfect moment of Americana. The driver knew better. He knew that most of their happiness came from a different source. The woman had a secret. They all had that same secret. If not for that secret, he was certain to have a different path. But it was his job to make sure that they stayed in line. There were rules to follow. Plain and simple. It was his job to make sure those rules were followed. He was not sure how many people would agree with the simplicity of his job description but it helped him sleep at night.

There was no sleeping for him last night. He was enforcing rules. It did not take them long to settle down. She gave her husband his happy ending for the day and then nodded off clutching her phone case. She was not deceiving anyone where it was but that was not in the rules. The rules clearly stated that she must voluntarily pass it on. He could not take it from her like a thief in the night. He could not mug her in the street and grab it from her fingers with tears flowing down her face. She had to pass it on like a torch. Like many of those that chose to keep the secret, she needed to be burned a little before releasing the torch.

Like so many before her, Moran did not want to give it up so easy. Like a drug connected to a hospital IV tube, it had become part of her hand, her arm, her soul. If he did not give her the push she needed, who knows how long it would have gone on for? The child would recover easily. He was young enough to forget his ride with a stranger in the dead of night and the late night snack given to him from the all night fast food drive thru. In time, he would also forget the tears in his mother’s eyes and the screams coming out of her throat as she traded her secret for her only child.

As the long drive through rural Virginia entered the final miles, the driver smiled. He knew Putnam would be pleased. George would be pleased as well but he would never know either way. George rarely came out of the Ivory Tower of The Foundation and if he did, there was hell to pay. There was no reason to come down out of the clouds this time. He had done what he was sent to do. He had enforced the rules and it ended without bloodshed. This time was better than some but not as good as others. Yes, Putnam would be pleased. The Card was back in hand.

***

The Foundation

Somewhere in Virginia

The Foundation, otherwise known as The Farm was an actual working horse farm in the beautiful countryside of rural Virginia. The post fence that bordered the two thousand acres held enough timber to build a log home the size of the White House. All around the clock, ranchers rode their horses along that fence to keep all animals in and all humans out. While their cowboy hats and jeans painted picture perfect visuals, it was what was under their saddles that invoked fear from those that crossed them. Instead of the ever popular 22 shotgun sitting in their saddle bags, a quick flip of the burlap revealed fully loaded AK 47s. You could never be too careful out in the country.

The main gate was tastefully decorated with a ranch sign kit welcoming all to the F ranch. For those who may ask, the F stood for family because a family ranch is the best ranch of all. It brings connotations of sleigh rides and hoedowns to any rural town in America. Truth be known, these tell-tale ranch renderings could be conjured up at a moment notice if a more cautious visitor should be on the visitation list. During the holiday season, a warm inviting wreath adorned with sparkling lights could be seen from miles away in the moonlight hours. The main entrance to the F ranch gave no indication of the action contained within.

The black SUV approached the guard shack slowly as the gravel pinged off the undercoating in rhythmic attack. Monty was in the hot box this morning and as usual had one hand out of sight. He waved to the oncoming vehicle as his other hand stayed on the control panel. At his fingertips were an array of militia and alarms. In one moment he could transform the farm to the front line of a small war.

Good morning Freddy.

Hey Monty. How’s the coffee this morning?

Fresh and hot. Just the way I like my women.

Even though a short laugh came out, it was a nervous laugh just the same. Monty was a pretty foreboding character with scars across his face and forehead. Freddy could not even imagine what type of woman this undertaker would attract.

You know the drill, Freddy. Put your hands on the wheel at 10 and 2 while the scan does its thing.

The electromagnetic beams scanned every inch of the SUV and its driver. Sitting still was the difficult part during the minute long scan. The list of items they checked for included guns, explosives and any stowaways hidden within the vehicle. You never knew what washed up case would try to take revenge out on The Foundation.

The green light on the control panel indicated that the scan was complete and clear. Monty gave him the thumbs up and picked up the phone to the main house to let them know the vehicle was approaching. Without the call, the main house guards were instructed to treat all vehicles as intruders and to shoot on sight. This was one of the many protocols that made The Farm a place as dangerous as it was scenic.

As Freddy proceeded slowly down the mile long access road, he took in the scenery that never ceased to amaze him. He was a Boston native and a city boy tried and true. He grew up on the streets of the South End, hanging with the gangs of Chinatown and Back Bay depending on the year. He learned to fire a gun by the time he was 12 and knew how to handle and strike out with a knife shortly thereafter. The fact that he had come all the way from those streets to this level of life was a constant reminder that he had to do whatever to whomever to protect it.

Over the crest of the hill, the main house came into view. It was impressive even to the most discerning eye taken at face value. The center building was made up of several layers of A frame peaks with walls of reflective glass windows, allowing clear views of anyone approaching. True to the ranch layout, the main house contained 7 bedrooms on the upper floor and a mammoth grand room that housed an enormous fireplace. It was country living at its best and was a complete facade. The couple that lived there was on long term assignment from one of the other branches of the intelligence community and was often available to shake hands and kiss a baby or two.

To the right of the main house were the multi-bay barn and the stables which housed the fifty or so horses on a year round basis. All buildings were nestled against the dark green forestry of the Appalachian Mountains which provided a perfect entrance for the Foundation Operations. While hundreds of workers were contained within the base, only two pick-up trucks were actually parked in the barn yard. The hidden entrance was shadowed within the center bay of the main barn.

Freddy drove slowly into the entrance of the barn and continued straight into the darkness. Within seconds the back of the barn opened up into a hidden corridor large enough to drive tractor trailers through. The corridor took workers, visitors and supplies deep into the mountainside that housed the core of operations for The Foundation. Armed guards blanketed both sides of the corridor as he drove towards his final destination.

Once parked, Freddy walked through three more checkpoints until he was greeted by a large specimen of American military. The Captain was in full dress uniform with a Walther PPK .22 secured in his sidearm holster. He saluted Freddy as he came through the final checkpoint.

No need to salute me, Captain. I am not associated with any branch of service.

My apologies, sir. I was just transferred to this division. I am here to escort you to Colonel Putnam immediately.

Thank you again, Captain, but I know my way to his office.

The Colonel will not be meeting with you in his office today. I have been instructed to take you to another meeting place.

Lead the way, Captain. Lead the way.

Everything was always a secret here, Freddy thought. He could never be part of their cloak and dagger world. He was a civilian that worked covertly in their mixed up world. He could walk away at any point. Or so he liked to think anyway. He knew deep within the thoughts that he packed away each night in his subconscious that he was more likely to be found with a bullet in the back of his head than setting sail on a private yacht in Miami. He was up to his neck in all their secrets and rules. While he did not know all the branches outside of The Foundation, he certainly knew how this one worked.

Freddy followed the Captain through a series of turns that led them through the main hub of the building and into the division he worked for. All around him there were people hustling to and from their own destinations as they worked on their own covert missions. While the activities that he and the Colonel engaged in were far from mundane, he often thought the other divisions were more along those you read in the morning headlines.

They arrived at the doorway to a conference room and the Captain knocked on the door to announce our arrival. The door was quickly opened by another uniformed guard as they were both ushered into the room.

That will be all, Captain. You are both dismissed. The guard and the Captain exited the room without another word leaving Freddy alone with the great Colonel William Putnam.

What’s up Put?

Fuck you, Freddy. Where the hell have you been? You better have damn good news for me since I’ve been getting my ass chewed round the fucking clock!

Calm down. It’s all good. Moran is taken care of.

Fuck you, calm down. Do you know what day it is? 385! That’s right. 385. Twenty fucking days late and you are telling me to calm down. What do you mean she is ‘taken care of’?

Listen, Put. You sent me to do a job and I did it. Plain and simple. His smile broadened as he reached into his front pocket and pulled out the card. He threw it on the conference table in front of the Colonel.

Finally, he said as he reached down and picked it up off the table. Glancing at the name on the card he looked up at his henchman.

Well here’s half of it. What about the other Card?

Moran is driving out to deliver it today.

Is this something else I need to worry about? She has not been very trustworthy up until now. Can I trust her to deliver it to the next case?

After the trauma she went through this morning, I’m sure Ms. Moran will not be giving us any more problems.

Trauma? What trauma?

Listen, Put. You don’t always need all the details. Sometimes things get a little dirty. With you, there’s just black and white, live or die. To the rest of the world, there’s other ways to get things done.

OK. I get it. Enough said. Let’s look at the other cases. The Colonel reached over to a control panel and the windows instantly changed from clear to solid. Another button on the panel dropped a digital screen in front of the wall. He typed a few strokes into the laptop on the desk and flicked the image up to the digital screen.

Card 2 is at 362 days. Marlin has already received her exit instructions. Any problems there Freddy?

Doesn’t seem to be but you never know. She cried all night when she received the notice but nothing crazy the next day. She’s a strong one and should transition fine.

They never transition fine, Freddy. That’s the point. They get addicted like crack whores to the pipe. If they get past The Card trade off, they may survive for a day or two but then they get the itch. Something shiny, something new or some world cause with dying children. Whether it’s high tech toys or truckloads of food for the poor, they have to do something. It flows through their blood like white lightening.

Well, whatever. Ms. Marlin has played the whole year close to the cuff. We haven’t had one issue with her. She has intentionally stayed off the radar and will most likely stay there. I can’t see her making any noise in the last days.

OK Freddy. Watch the trade-off then pass her along to the post mortem people. They can watch her from there.

How long do they keep tabs on them Colonel?

You still don’t get it, do you Freddy? Once they use The Card we own them for life. We watch them until the last bit of air escapes their lungs. I like to think they are part of the ‘Putnam Army of Reserves’; that I can call up their bills anytime I need them to fight. I own them like the devil owns their souls.

Wow. That’s some grim shit, Put.

Don’t over play your cards, Freddy. We rely on you to get things done but one day you are going to be too glib for your own good.

Whatever, Put. What’s up with Card 3?

The Colonel paused in his tracks to stare down his henchman. He knew that one day he would have to give the order to silence his smart mouth for good but that day was far from today. For now, the dirty work had to be done by somebody. Instead of losing his temper, Putnam decided to push on.

Are you asking me, Freddy? Isn’t it your job to track these people?

"No, Colonel. It’s my job to put things back on course when they derail. Last time I checked, all was well out in Nebraska."

Ms. Ferra is quiet. Too quiet. She is 180 days in and there is barely any card activity. The last financial report I looked at for her was shorter than my Visa bill.

What’s the matter, Put? She won’t bite the hook? Not everyone takes the bait you know. Not everyone drinks the Kool-Aid that you pour for them. Some people are happy enough with the life they have.

Bullshit. Everyone has a price. Standards and integrity only go so far. If she doesn’t want to use the card for anything we will have to create a need for her to use the card.

What the fuck does that mean?

We’ll come back to her in a minute. She’s not going anywhere. Let’s move on to Card 4.

Mr. Feller in Kansas City.

Yes. Feller is 90 days in and needs an adjustment.

How bad is it?

Completely out of control. The initial reports are staggering with no discretion.

I can be on the first plane in the morning to put him in line.

Screw that Freddy. I want you there tonight. Do you understand me?

You’re the boss, Colonel.

Go take care of Feller first. Then I want you back in West Virginia to start the new Card on the right track.

What about Ferra? I thought you had an idea?

Don’t worry about little Miss Darla, Freddy. I’ll make sure she will discover a sudden need to use her Card when you pay her a visit later. You just get yourself out to Kansas City and remind Mr. Feller about the rules he agreed to. Now get going.

You got it Put. Standing up and turning from the table, Freddy stopped and turned towards his mentor. Wait a minute. What’s up with Card 5? I thought I was going to Jacksonville this week to take care of that clown?

Card 5 has been suspended for the time being. The case has been closed indefinitely until we find a new recipient.

Just like that? What happened there?

The subject gave in to his demons. He left his Card and everything else in a hotel room in Jacksonville.

What about the Cardholder?

Officially he is MIA. His man husband and everyone else believe he just walked away from his life. Witnesses were arranged to see his car drive away during peak hours.

And unofficially?

Unofficially he blew his brains out in the same hotel room. He checked out permanently. He didn’t even leave enough to make a proper identity.

Why the hell would he do that? He was days away from the end.

Like I said before, sometimes they just can’t handle it. They become addicts. They see life without The Card and it scares the shit out of them. In some cases, it is easier to check out before having to give it back to us.

So that’s it? No more Card 5?

Of course not. We just need the heat to cool down. We’ll have The Card re-allocated to another part of the country once the clean-up crew does their thing in Jacksonville. He left a big mess and we have to make sure there are no loose threads.

It never ends, does it Put?

It ends when we decide it ends. We own these people, Freddy. They make a deal with the devil and then we own their soul for life. Now get on your fucking pitchfork and turn up the heat in Kansas City.

Freddy rose and left the conference room only to be greeted by the Captain to escort him back to his vehicle. It was time to catch a flight.

Putnam sat and looked at the faces illuminated on the screen in front of him. In his world, there were no names to go with the faces. There were no lives that he could not control and he was their puppet master. He may not be footing the bill for this project but he was the one who pulled the strings. These were his puppets and he would make them dance. A crooked smile crept across his face as he savored the moment. A new puppet was coming online and he would control him like all the rest. The power of The Card was his to wield.

CHAPTER TWO

Case: Moran, Kathleen

Day 385

Bluntville, West Virginia

Driving through the vast wasteland of West Virginia, Kathleen could not stop crying. It had been over a year since she got her envelope. The day was like any other going down the end of the driveway to get the mail. It was sitting on a stack of bills and junk mail just waiting for her to open. So much had happened since then that her mind was full of memories she could not start to sort out. She lived like a queen treating herself to endless wining, dining and of course jewelry. Oh, how she loved her jewelry. She had enough diamonds and gold hidden in safe deposit boxes all around the state to last a lifetime. So why was she so upset? She planned for this day and her family would live well from this day on.

The pain was in knowing this was the end. Every morning in the past year was like living a dream. So how did she end up in this nightmare? How could she let it get this far out of hand? She almost lost Jimmy last night. Not like losing him in a shopping mall or at the country fair, but almost lost him for life. Those bastards came into her house, her sanctuary, and took her son. They knew just where her last nerve lay.

She couldn’t care less when they threatened to ruin her husband’s business. That threat came shortly after the deadline. She knew they could find other ways of living, especially if she held onto The Card. She didn’t even fold when they threatened to kill her husband last week. She loved him and built a life with him, but there were other men. In time, her heart would mend and she could find another father figure for her son. After all, they didn’t even do it right. They cut the brake line on his car and figured he would drive it off a cliff somewhere. Oldest trick in the books. She knew they would try something like that so she got her husband a rental instead. The ironic part is that she paid for the rental with The Card as well. She beat the bastards at their own game using the only thing they wanted.

Jimmy was the last straw. She would never put him in harm’s way again. There is nothing like the love of a mother and she proved it by giving her Card back to that awful bastard. Once she held her son, her only child, in her arms, nothing else mattered. From that realization on it was easy to reach in her pocket and hand it over. That fucker just stood there and smiled as she put it in his hand like he knew she would cave eventually.

Kathleen thought that would end it. She really thought that giving them back The Card was the end of her association with The Foundation or whatever they were calling themselves. She now knew they had her for life. It was in that one moment, when she turned back to the car with Jimmy in her arms. It was then that she knew she had made a deal with the devil.

One moment, Ms. Moran.

It’s Mrs. You bastard.

Of course, Mrs. Moran. Our business together has yet another step

What is it now? Do you want blood? Is that what you want, blood from my veins?

Nothing so morbid, I can assure you. We just need you to deliver the next Card to the next user.

Are you kidding me? Why can’t you deliver it? I’m done. I’m totally done with you people.

It doesn’t work that way, Mrs. Moran. You spent quite a bit of money on The Card. It will suit you better if you just treat these minor requests as tiny payments.

REQUESTS? Are you out of your fucking mind? I said I am done

He reached into his jacket and produced an envelope. The name and address are on there. You do not and should not talk to anyone. Just go to the address and put the envelope in their mailbox.

What if I refuse? What if I tell you people to go take a flying leap and I go on my way?

There is no reason to discuss more threats and penalties Mrs. Moran. Just deliver the envelope to the recipient later today.

…And then that’s it, right? I’ll be done with you people?

You’ll be done with me. For now, that’s the best you can hope for.

He stood there in that parking lot watching her as she sped away into the night. Jimmy was already fast asleep and could not feel the look that penetrated to her soul. As the cold sweat trickled from her hairline down her spine, she knew that this was just the beginning and not the end of the road.

The gold Jaguar rolled into Marshall County like a shining beacon in the late afternoon sun. The contrast to the logging and mining trucks as well as the rotting pick-up trucks that lined the road was loud and clear. She did not belong here. The simple errand to drop off an envelope made her feel cheap and dirty. Every traffic light that brought the luxury car to a stop brought an onslaught of onlookers that seemed to tear her away from the clothes on her back.

Kathleen’s heart seemed to jump into rhythmic failure as she turned into the trailer park that was her final destination. As she rolled up to the battered mailbox and flipped open the lid, The Card seemed to come alive in her hands. She knew that it was just her imagination but Kathleen could feel the heat coming from inside the envelope. The rise in the temperature was not real but the trembling in her hands was. She placed the contents into the box and slammed the lid shut. For such a minor act she was all but exhausted. She drove away from the box and her emotions took over. The tears became so much she had to pull over near the exit of the trailer park just to gain composure. She was raised as a Catholic girl and should act as a messenger of God. Every nerve ending on her body told her that she was an instrument of evil instead. She just placed another human being in position to be sacrificed like a lamb on the altar.

CHAPTER THREE

Case: Demers, Joshua

Day 1

Marshall County, West Virginia

Ffffffwwwwwooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Jesus H! I thought this shift would never end. There’s nothin’ like the sound of that whistle.

What’s the big deal, Josh? It’s not like it’s the weekend. We’ll have our asses back in this seam first thing in the morning.

Listen, Chewy. Your life may be the coal but it ain’t mine. Every fucking minute I can be out of this mine is a minute of my life I can steal back.

Who are you fucking kidding? Your brothers are both miners and your old man would still be down here if it wasn’t for the damp he got. The dust runs through your veins just like the rest of us.

Josh Demers knew the bastard was right. Chewy may be his best friend but he sure knew how to strike a nerve. He had been working in this mine every day of his adult life and he hated every minute. He hated the job, the people and the whole life that went with it. It didn’t matter what he wanted to be when he was a kid or what skills he had. His life was decided for him as soon as he came into this crappy world. If you grew up in this town, you had no choices in life. You either went to work in the mine, or found some way to die. In the end, it didn’t matter. You all ended up six feet under.

Like robots on auto-pilot, the two men placed the rest of the rocks they were working with onto the conveyor that would take it up to the surface. They grabbed their lunch pails and fell in line to the exit parade walking back up the seam. They walked in silence as if each step would trigger the next fall-in, collectively praying on each breath that they took.

In reality, each step was a mixture of pain and pleasure to Joshua. His body ached with every connection to the hard ground. He was 36 years old but he already felt like he was an old man. It hurt to breathe even when he wasn’t in the seam or joining Chewy on the pipe. Every muscle was on fire five minutes after he got out of his truck to clock in. His bones were brittle and cracked at every joint no matter what the temp or weather brought his way. He never complained to anybody about his aches and pains because that was what was expected. If you worked the mines you sucked it up. You sucked up the pain and suffering just like you sucked up the dust and dirt into your lungs. If you were lucky like his old man, you caught something serious like the black damp and got to sit in your own misery for the rest of your dying days. At least the bastard never had to walk this shaft ever again.

The pleasure came as he felt the wind of the shaft breeze past his ears. Miners referred to it as the Devil’s Breath. As you entered the shaft you could feel it at your back pushing you deeper into the depths of the seam. If you were the lucky ones to exit, you fought the wind on your face as the mine tried to suck you in and keep you in its bowels. Joshua enjoyed every second as he came to the surface as it reminded him of the freedom he had when he was younger. With the wind at his back and the darkness at his heels, he used to think he could accomplish anything. Now it is just a conjuring of the man he used to be, enjoyed only for a few seconds before reality slaps him in his face.

The surface of the Marcal Mine was like some bizarre post-apocalyptic nightmare. The ground was barren and stripped with piles of rock, coal, and dirt creating some kind of demented dune area that you would expect aliens to crawl over at any moment. The various equipment that was used to push the resources around simply added to the sci-fi atmosphere in their abandoned state. As Joshua dragged himself to his battered truck in the miner parking area, Chewy caught up to him.

"You comin’ by for