Page 93 of Our Own Light

“Shit!” Oliver yelled, stumbling backward, only barely dodging the car as it careened into the wall.

Sure enough, it toppled, and coal dumped out onto the floor.

Seconds later, Billy came up beside him.

“Jeez, Mister, you nearly got yourself crushed to death.”

“I realize that,” Oliver said. “So, what happens now?”

“Well, we can try to shovel it into a new car, but I think whoever’s car that was will probably be real mad on account of having to wait for the weighing.”

“God, the two of us shoveling? We’ll be here for hours.”

“Probably.”

“What if...” Oliver fished around in his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. He handed it to Billy. “Here. Can you ensure that makes its way to whoever’s car that was? And...” He took out a five. “You can have that. I’m sorry I wasn’t a very helpful spragger.”

“It ain’t scrip,” the boy said. “How do I spend it?”

“Just take it to the company store and tell Charlie he can yell at me later.”

Oliver moved to slide his wallet back into his pocket and winced. Fuck, he had really messed up his shoulder. Now that the excitement of the whole ordeal had passed, tremors of pain were rippling up and down the length of his arm. He wondered how he’d even manage to work tomorrow.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Billy asked.

“Yeah,” Oliver said, sucking in a breath. “But I’ll be alright.”

“Should we still shovel the coal?”

“Just leave it. I’ll talk to Frederick or whoever I need to.”

“Who’s Frederick?”

“You know, Frederick,” Oliver repeated before coming to his senses. “Donohue.”

“You know him?”

“Old family friend.”

Billy wrinkled his nose. Oliver understood the sentiment.

“Well, I think I’ll head home,” Oliver said. “It has been a really challenging day.”

“Alright,” Billy said. “See you tomorrow, Mister.”

“Call me Oliver,” he said. “And yes, I’ll see you tomorrow, Billy.”

Oliver walked back to the elevator. He found the boy he had been talking to earlier.

“Did you see Floyd?” Oliver asked, his voice weary.

“Not yet.”

“Alright, well, you can forget it, then. God, Floyd had wanted me to leave in the first place. I should have left right then and there. I should have listened!”

“Can I keep the scrip?” he asked.

“What?” Oliver blurted out, his mind foggy from pain. “Oh. Yes. Keep it. Sorry for the trouble.”

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