[ WP ] The mines have run dry

-125 
 
 `` Hollis!'' The foreman shouted. Mike pushed forward through his mob of coworkers. `` Last check.'' The foreman told him handing over his pay. `` Stillwell!'' 
 
 `` I'm being fired?'' Mike asked with concern. 
 
 `` Stillwell!'' The foreman shouted again, holding up an envelope with the employee's pay. 
 
 `` Hey! Am I being fired?'' Mike demanded irritably? 
 
 `` You all are.'' The foreman announced. `` The mine has run dry. The higher ups just sent the word down. The bailout never came. They're declaring bankruptcy. This is your last check plus two weeks severance.'' He told them. A general outcry went up from the men. Yellow miner's hats waved and were thrown in anger as men, with bristling beards and unkind eyes voiced their displeasure. 
 
 Mike was bounced back and forth inside the surge of angry men, and after being jostled for a time, he finally found the edge of the crowd and wondered at what this meant for his life. What did it mean for his son and his medical bills. He opened the envelope and looked at the amount printed there. $ 515 was printed in the amount window. 
 
 `` Two weeks severance?'' He scoffed. If that's the case, they shorted him a hundred dollars on his regular pay. He turned back to the foreman and saw the man being pressed back into the little box he called his office by the press of angry miners. He turned again, slinging his hard hat across the packed gravel of the yard. Jackie was n't going to be happy. She was n't going to be happy at all. A man in full mining attire rushed past him, reaching the parking lot a few moments ahead of Mike. 
 
 Mike paid him no mind till he saw the man pull his thirty-thirty from the gun rack in the back window of the truck. He knew the man. He was the dim-wit that ran -- used to run -- the front end loader. At first it did n't register with Mike. He saw the man wrestling with the gun, and it was only as the man tried to rush past him that he realized the man had been turning the safety off. 
 
 `` Hey. Hey?!'' Mike called stepping in front of the man. `` What the hell are you doing with that rifle, Dwayne?'' Mike demanded. 
 
 `` Out of the way, Mike. Get!'' The man told him, trying to push past him. 
 
 `` Wait, dammit. He's just passing out checks, man. He did n't fire us.'' Mike reasoned. 
 
 `` Out of the way, Mike!'' Dwayne bellowed, jabbing him in the gut with the barrel of the gun. He knocked the wind out of Mike, but Mike held on to the barrel of the rifle. 
 
 `` You need to calm down, dammit. You shoot him, and they'll haul you off to prison. You think that's what Carla and Maggie want?'' Mike asked, struggling to keep him from pulling the gun loose. 
 
 `` Let go of the fucking gun!'' He roared, yanking on the rifle stock. The shouting changed from cries of anger to mutterings of concern and fear. The gun barrel slipped loose of Mike's grip as the echoes of the gunshot climbed out of the quarry. Dwayne rushed through the mob of men who hurried to get out of his way. Dwayne trudged up the incline to the office and kicked in the door. 
 
 Mike held his hands over the fountain of blood pouring out of his gut as other workers rushed to his aid. There was shouts and a woman's scream from the little shack on the mound as the foreman tried to reason with Dwayne. Several gun shots came from the shed followed by cries of fear and pain from the foreman and the secretary inside. The workers threw him in the bed of a pickup and several men climbed in beside him and pressed hands down on the wound as another worker fired up the truck and peeled out of there, chasing the echoes of the gunshots up the wall of the quarry. 
 
 Mike was feeling around, pawing at the truck bed, looking for his pay check. Jackie was gon na need it.
