Chapter 19 - The Taming of the Mountain
Two hundred yards deeper into the timber, Hayes' rogue contractor rig sat shuddering in a clearing of destroyed saplings. It was an unmanned, automated diesel-hydraulic drilling platform, its massive steel drill string sunk sixty feet into the limestone, screaming as it bored relentlessly into the pressurized aquifer.
The crew had abandoned it when the first tremors hit, leaving the throttle locked wide open. Mud and milky chemical brine were spewing ten feet into the air from the casing head, pooling into a sinkhole that was widening by the minute.
"The main hydraulic line!" the lead state trooper yelled over the deafening mechanical shriek. "We have to hit the emergency bypass, but the control panel is submerged under that contaminated slush!"
"The mechanical shut-off is on the block behind the engine!" Michael yelled back. He didn't hesitate. Before anyone could grab him, he plunged waist-deep into the freezing, sulfur-laced slurry surrounding the rig.
"Michael, no!" I yelled, reaching for him, but the trooper held me back as the ground along the rim crumbled into the pit.
"Let him work, Mr. Miller! He’s got the tether!"
Michael fought through the thick, toxic mud, coughing violently as the noxious fumes hit his lungs. He hauled himself onto the steel frame of the violently shaking rig. His hands were slick with oil and gray mud, clawing at the rusted iron casing until his knuckles were raw and bleeding.
"Find the red dog-leg valve!" I screamed, remembering the ancient well equipment from my youth. "Turn it clockwise against the manifold!"
Michael found the iron handle. He threw his entire body weight against it. The metal screeched, rusted shut by neglect. He slipped, his chin smashing against the iron frame, blood blooming across his jaw.
"Michael!"
He didn't stop. With a feral scream that tore through the mountain mist, he kicked his boot against the lever.
*CLANG.*
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The valve turned half an inch. Then another. With a violent hiss of escaping hydraulic pressure, the massive drill string ground to a halt. The deafening roar of the diesel engine died into a sputtering wheeze, leaving only the sound of Michael’s ragged breathing and the patter of rain on the dead leaves.
The pressure geyser collapsed into a pathetic trickle. Beneath our feet, the deep, terrifying groaning of the limestone cavern ceased. The mountain fell silent.
