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6/3/2025, 6:27:09 PM
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This was only the third time you had been in an abandoned mine, the previous two times having occurred during your service in the Second Civil War. Mines were useful places to hide from airborne observation, pursuit, and excellent places to hide supplies. The hills of Appalachia had been dug into to extract their wealth for centuries, and the locations of many entrances had been lost to time and vague description. They weren't without their dangers, though. Collapses, bad air, flammable gases, and becoming hopelessly lost or trapped were all anecdotes that passed to you from neighboring units in your operational area, and your natural anxiety served you well when spelunking and sheltering during those times of strife back on Earth. The first order of business was the collapsed passage near the entryway. It had looked somewhat suspicious to you initially, but the "bathroom" setup and the other signs of a recent, non-mining-related presence here had escalated the pile of collapsed rock and debris to the top of your list.
It was easy enough to excavate in itself. The hard part was carrying the resulting rock back outside. If there had ever been a minecart system in here, it had long been stripped out. You couldn't find any ore chutes, bucket lines, or other means of easily extracting the results of your labor. That left Brayson and yourself alternating between loosening and dragging out piles of rock with a mattock, and the other painstakingly shovelling the resulting debris from the floor of the passageway and physically carrying it outside, where you quickly plan out a future slit trench and earthwork to defend the entranceway.
The more the kid and yourself dug, the more you could catch glimpses of the other side. The passageway continued for several more feet, ending with a steel door in a wooden doorway. There was also another void leading off towards the right, but you couldn't see much more. Curiosity alone couldn't sustain you and Brayson was starting to look cranky, so you two broke for lunch. Brayson's addition brought the food situation into focus, the consumption of which having doubled. As the pair of you sit on crates outside and enjoy centuries-old survival fare enhanced with bland Hotep jerky and local berries, you briefly take stock of your food and water situation.
The rations by themselves will last you another week all alone. Neither of you having been farmers or gardeners back on Earth, you have no idea where to plant the seed potatoes, or how long they take to grow, but confidence is high that you two will be able to get -something- out of the effort. Unless the inhabitants of the Ruined Homestead were ethically against it, these potatoes were likely genetically modified to be productive and hardy, like most crops were on the Earth you left behind. Man, what you'd give for some proper Southern barbecue right now.
This was only the third time you had been in an abandoned mine, the previous two times having occurred during your service in the Second Civil War. Mines were useful places to hide from airborne observation, pursuit, and excellent places to hide supplies. The hills of Appalachia had been dug into to extract their wealth for centuries, and the locations of many entrances had been lost to time and vague description. They weren't without their dangers, though. Collapses, bad air, flammable gases, and becoming hopelessly lost or trapped were all anecdotes that passed to you from neighboring units in your operational area, and your natural anxiety served you well when spelunking and sheltering during those times of strife back on Earth. The first order of business was the collapsed passage near the entryway. It had looked somewhat suspicious to you initially, but the "bathroom" setup and the other signs of a recent, non-mining-related presence here had escalated the pile of collapsed rock and debris to the top of your list.
It was easy enough to excavate in itself. The hard part was carrying the resulting rock back outside. If there had ever been a minecart system in here, it had long been stripped out. You couldn't find any ore chutes, bucket lines, or other means of easily extracting the results of your labor. That left Brayson and yourself alternating between loosening and dragging out piles of rock with a mattock, and the other painstakingly shovelling the resulting debris from the floor of the passageway and physically carrying it outside, where you quickly plan out a future slit trench and earthwork to defend the entranceway.
The more the kid and yourself dug, the more you could catch glimpses of the other side. The passageway continued for several more feet, ending with a steel door in a wooden doorway. There was also another void leading off towards the right, but you couldn't see much more. Curiosity alone couldn't sustain you and Brayson was starting to look cranky, so you two broke for lunch. Brayson's addition brought the food situation into focus, the consumption of which having doubled. As the pair of you sit on crates outside and enjoy centuries-old survival fare enhanced with bland Hotep jerky and local berries, you briefly take stock of your food and water situation.
The rations by themselves will last you another week all alone. Neither of you having been farmers or gardeners back on Earth, you have no idea where to plant the seed potatoes, or how long they take to grow, but confidence is high that you two will be able to get -something- out of the effort. Unless the inhabitants of the Ruined Homestead were ethically against it, these potatoes were likely genetically modified to be productive and hardy, like most crops were on the Earth you left behind. Man, what you'd give for some proper Southern barbecue right now.
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