I'm Still Here!?

Two Weeks Later

It was hard to measure time when I was almost constantly high on Jet, but I found out later that I worked that mine for two weeks straight. I vaguely remembered needing higher doses of Jet just to feel better and avoid the itch by the middle of that second week. Despite needing more Jet, I remember bits of my time there with clarity, but whether those memories were altered by the drugs I don't know. I remembered that I eventually replaced my work whistling with conversation and realized that nobody joined into a chorus of whistling. Instead, it was just me whistling away while all the other miners were trapped in their own bubbles as they pounded away at the cave walls. I also horribly remembered that some of the times I'd cart wheelbarrows to the surface, there were bodies in them and not just cave dust.

It was true, the supervisors didn't like people drinking water while they were high, and with constant dehydration came death. I did wonder where all the gold we mined was going, but the Jet highs usually threw that question out of my mind with thoughts of dinosaurs and what it was like to be a cloud. Despite drinking out of a tiny cup during meals; soon enough, the drug would take over and I would get up to cheerily go to work.

I mentioned conversation instead of whistling because that was actually what saved me. I didn't know who any of the miners were except for Rickety Richard who gave me water, and Supervisor Slimm who captured me. All of the miners eerily had the same face when I was high. All of them had the same dirtied white skin, brown scraggly beard, smile, and pink or red eyes. Like I mentioned, when I hammered at the wall; I eventually started having conversations with the guys next to me. I'm fairly sure I imagined most of their answers, but towards the end of week two I mentioned some things to the guy next to me that ended up being important.

I was told that I mentioned several things of interest, but one is what saved me. I apparently talked about the giant flying machine in the woods by Klamath called a "Vertibird." I remember the supervisors patrolling the cave carrying balloon animals, that ended up being automatic rifles, except for one man. Rickety Richard took on the shape of the faceless miner I worked beside once the drugs had their hold on my mind. Between each swing of my pickaxe, I spoke about the Vertibird, slavers from The Den, and ghosts along the California highway. My drug induced rambling saved my life, and I'll explain how.

On my last night underground, I talked to Supervisor Rickety Richard. I was coming off of my high while getting ready for bed when we talked. I soberly talked to him several times throughout those weeks, but usually about the same questions. The first nighttime conversation I had with him was essentially on a loop for most of those nights we actually spoke. The Jet has a way of wiping your memory, so it was incredibly hard to ask any questions that weren't a repeat of the first time. The last night was different though. I noticed that the pain from work was getting less and less as my body adjusted to it, but as I came down from the high; my final night in the mine went like this:

I sat there on my bedroll while the drug effects subsided and thought out loud again, "What the Fuck just happened!?"

Rickety Richard sat there staring intently at me. He said monotonously, "Your 15th day on the job, that's what happened… Tell me everything you know about that 'Vertibird.'"

Surprised at the seemingly bizarre question, I rubbed my eyes and said, "What are you talking about?"

He tossed me two bottles of water and said calmly, "Drink. Now."

I chugged the entire bottle of water and opened the second one when I asked seriously, "What was the question?"

He began as I drank the water, "I worked next to you when you were on wall duty this morning. You were talking to me about slavers from the Den, Fat Jimbo, ghosts on I-5, and the 'Vertibird.' I need you to tell me everything you know and clear your head."

I finished the second bottle and struggled to think as the effects of Jet were wearing off. After a few minutes of clouded concentration, I asked, "Were you always working next to me? Why weren't you with the other 'S' cap guys? What does the 'S' stand for anyway?"

He looked frustrated and responded sharply, "I've been working side by side with you since you got here, and for the hundredth time, the 'S' stands for 'Supervisor.'"

I struggled to remember anything and asked, "What was the question again?"

Physically calming himself, he took a deep breath and said, "Tell me everything you know about the Vertibird."

He tossed me a third bottle of water and I concentrated on an irrelevant thought, "Where was he getting all this water?" More sobriety hit me as I opened the other bottle and said, "It… It was just a big flying machine near Klamath. I think?"

He held a little black thing to my mouth and asked sternly, "How did you know what it was called?"

Puzzled and trying to make out the object he was holding millimeters from my face, I said, "Uhhh… Fat Jimbo told me it was called that? I think?"

He asked, still with the object in my face, "And who was Fat Jimbo?"

I said, struggling to remember, "He was a slaver boss from… The Den? He rolled into Klamath a couple months ago…"

I caught what I said and laughed dumbly, "Haha, 'rolled!' He was super fat! Hahaha!"

Rickety Richard sat back and held the little black object to his mouth mumbling stuff. I heard briefly, "... Miner Sean Combs from Klamath witnessed the crash of a flying machine know by a slaver scout boss as a 'Vertibird' approximately three to four weeks ago in early January. The Wastelander seems to be telling the truth despite his Jet-induced intoxication-"

I interrupted Richard, "Who exactly are you?"

I started feeling the water seriously dilute the Jet in my body when he clicked a button on the side of the device. He leaned in and whispered to me after looking all around at the gaggle of passed out miners. He said almost inaudibly, "My name is Detective Paul Letinski. I'm with the New California Republic Covert Operations Group…"

I asked, feeling more sober than I had in weeks, "What is the New California Republic? Why do you go by Rickety Richard?…"

I was about to ask something else when he said, "Nobody can know who I really am, got it?"

I grappled with a flurry of new thoughts. I was suddenly hit with a new wave of questions when I asked him, "What are you doing here? Where am I? What happened to my stuff? And what am 'I' doing here for that matter?" My volume was escalating with each question.

Rickety Richard, or "Detective Paul Letinski" raised his hand to physically shut my mouth. He looked into my soul and said, "I need you to stay calm, can you do that?"

I nodded and muffled, "Yuhff."

He lowered his hand saying quietly and slowly, "Good, you're in Redding. You're in 'The Great Wanamingo Mine.' You were enslaved approximately two weeks ago by Supervisor Slimm from the Morning Star Mining Company. Your stuff is lost forever, and your helping me understand a complex issue..." He then paused to see what I would do or say.

I cautiously whispered to the man, "If you're not a supervisor, what are you doing here?"

He paused to study me for a minute. Then he whispered, "I'm with the New California Republic, or NCR. I was dispatched here a couple months ago to investigate the outbreak of the drug 'Jet' in Redding. I've been studying the intake of slaves and trying to pinpoint the source of Jet in this region…"

I interrupted, "What does that have to do with the Vertibird I saw?"

He sat there for a minute and stared at me. After a minute of pure concentration, he said, "I don't know yet… I need to get you out of here though…"

Still faintly under the drug's spell, I blurted out, "Why!? It's nice here?..."

I asked myself out loud, "Wait! What!?"

He silently monitoring me for a second before saying, "Can you do something for me?"

I said, "Sure, what is it?"

He said with a very stern face, "I can't have you getting all high and ratting me out to the others. So, you want to get out of here, right?..."

I nodded and he said, "Ok then, I need you to take a hit of Jet right now…"

I was fairly sober at that point and asked, "Wh- Why?"

He explained, "I need you to pass the drug test in the morning, they'll kill you if they think you're not taking your Jet."

I stared blankly and he continued, "If you hit it now, there should still be enough in your system for when they check your eyes in the morning."

With that, I said, "Ok", pulled the inhaler out of my overalls, and took a deep hit in somewhat blind agreement.

I started to feel the familiar sensation of a Jet high and he continued, "I need you sober enough to not fuck me over, so I'll leave a water under your pillow like I do every morning…"

I tilted my head back as I felt the involuntary smile creep across my face. After a minute, he said, "Go to sleep, Silly Willy. I'll work on a plan to free you and all the chocolate kittens we can possibly munch on."

He gave a wink and I laughed while saying, "You're the Silly Willy! Hahaha! I LOVE chocolate kitties! Goodnight buddy."

I know he didn't call me a "Silly Willy" or plan to save "Chocolate Kittens" now. I'd never fallen asleep on Jet before (Intentionally), so that night was particularly weird. I don't remember the dream, but I somehow know it was fantastic and even too crazy for a regular dream. I do remember waking up feeling glad but awkwardly sober. I felt myself in a strange middle ground between achingly sober, and high enough to like where I was. I knew I was smiling as I put on my work boots and joined the other miners to the cavern. Unfortunately, I forgot to drink the water he left for me, but that was a benefit since I was still fairly high when I reached the gaggle of miners under the rocky ceiling. I'd gotten into the habit of taking a hit with all the other miners before the supervisors inspected us, but that time, I was conscious enough to stop myself. Supervisor Slimm stood in front of me with the blinding light. He inspected my eyes to see they passed the "Drug Test." Still in that middle ground, I was sober enough to remember what he said.

Supervisor Slimm said, "I'm surprised you've lasted this long, shit head? Good thing you took your Jet, my trigger finger's getting itchy!" I smiled at him as he walked off, but felt sober enough to not say anything stupid about my new detective friend… I'm glad Slimm saw my grin, if he didn't, he probably would've been on to me.

I had a better sense of time and awareness since the drugs from last night were enough to make me appear high without completely bringing out my consciousness. After a few minutes, I followed the crowd to the pickaxes. I never realized how heavy they were or how badly my back hurt until I held the thing with a fairly free mind. I reached the wall and the other miners started to hammer away in their own euphoric bubbles. I felt all the pain of continuous mining and briefly considered taking a small hit just to nullify the pain. Something inside kept me going though. Maybe it was "hope?" The background knowledge that I was likely going to be free that day kept me swinging that pickaxe for two hours. Shifts at the cave wall were usually five hours, or so I was later told. So, for two hours I hammered at the wall feeling more and more pain start to hit me. Just as I felt like collapsing, a miracle happened.

One of the miners hit a point in the wall and an entire slab of rocks came crashing down. I barely had the strength to look over at the commotion, but the sound of gunshots made adrenaline shoot through my body. Wide awake and energized, I looked into the collapsed section to see monsters climbing out of the wall. Dark purple monsters with giant round heads on two legs climbed frantically out of the wall followed by the burst of machineguns. I stared in shock while smiling miners were picked up and tossed into the mouths of the monsters by long tentacle-like arms.

A supervisor shouted over the uproar of gunfire, "Wanamingos! Fall back!"

I was yanked by the collar and heard the voice of Rickety Richard, or "Detective Paul" shout, "LET'S GO!"

I followed Paul through the cave as the sounds of chaos echoed in the distance. Supervisors ran past us towards the monsters or up the narrow passes to the surface.

We exited the mouth of the cave, through a crumbling building, and into the open air with Redding in the distance. The miners gathered around the large building by a swarm of supervisors busy wrangling their high "employees." Paul still held my collar as I panted from exhaustion when we were stopped by another supervisor.

The unnamed supervisor asked Paul (AKA Rickety Richard) "Where you taking this one? We're gathering up the miners near the main entrance."

I was too exhausted, frightened, and confused to hear what Paul said, but he angrily yelled at the man and then at me. The supervisor let us go and Paul dragged me along towards the town. I collapsed into the dirt unconscious yet again.