The Runner

Jun 16th, 2007 by jan2 Edit |

Alan ran. He didn’t jog, he ran. He enjoyed running. He had spent so many years running it was like a drug; he definitely experienced ‘jogger’s high’ but in his case it was not quite correct because he ran. When anyone asked him why he ran so much he told them it was because it cleared his head. He suffered from schizophrenia but advanced medication, good care and love allowed him to function very well. Hardly anyone knew he even had the problem and much of the garbage in his day, stress, tension and worry was pushed out and forgotten when he ran. Besides he needed plenty of fresh air because he worked down the pit; he was a coal miner. He had been born with asthma but didn’t tell them that when he applied for the job; they didn’t bother with thorough medicals in his neck of the woods.

When Alan ran he focused on what was ahead and in summer, if he had gained a little weight, he wore a plastic bin bag over his head like a poncho because it made him sweat heavily. It looked comical, especially when his baseball cap was placed with the peak facing backwards but he was a familiar sight. There were a number of routes mapped out in his head and over the years people had grown accustomed to seeing him pass by, head down, relentless, come rain or shine. He worked three different shifts but always contrived to run at dawn.

Alan lived in a small mining-village where parts of the landscape were still blighted with slag heaps. Beneath his feet was a warren of tunnels where the coal had been mined out many years before he followed his grandfather, father and brothers down the pit. He was a strong, rugged man who was not easily rattled, had a great sense of humour, a good marriage with two young sons and basically a contented life. Given a choice he would not have worked underground where the coal dust swirled and settled on his chest but he enjoyed the camaraderie and with no academic qualifications there had never been any doubt that he was going to be a miner.

How far he ran varied because he knew that his body needed days when it had to tick over and three or four miles was more than enough. After years of constantly changing his routes he’d decided in March that all of them would wind up over the pit fields which he’d previously avoided on the grounds that he saw enough coal at work. It meant that he made his way home down a long, winding path that had been worn down by generations of miners who had worked the local pit until it closed fifteen years earlier. There were lumps of coal and potholes all over it and a small slagheap to one side which attracted the mountain bikers. The path ended just before a large grassed area where a small children’s play ground had been built as part of a regeneration package. Al always sprinted through the tarmac car park, which had been provided for a small supermarket next to the renovated railway station, then across the road and home.

One overcast and rather grey daybreak in April he was near the end of his longest run, twelve miles, and approached the old, rubble strewn path as drizzle pattered onto his cap and back. He glanced up and was surprised to see a figure in the distance, a miner from the way he was dressed. He was standing very still and Al wondered where he had been or was going at that time of day. He was a reasonably young chap, probably not quite forty and gave the impression that he was in a world of his own. Alan didn’t recognise him but spotted the red glow of a cigarette as the chap looked out toward the west enjoying a smoke and watching the sun force its way through the cloud. Every man has his own way of starting a day and for a miner every minute spent above ground is precious.

When Alan was within a hundred yards of him he glanced up and noted that the chap was still absolutely motionless and also rather quirkily dressed. His shirt was collarless and his jacket and trousers did not match in addition to being made of a rough, coarse cloth. He was wearing the traditional flat cap people associated with a northern mining-village; even Al’s generation usually had one hanging in a cupboard that got an occasional airing. He was slim, thin really with greying hair, a rather gaunt profile, a grey moustache and about six feet tall. At fifty yards Alan sensed the man wasn’t going to acknowledge him or (more annoying) move out of the way so he put his head down and surged forwards. Fifteen seconds later a piercing scream echoed skywards and the sweat on his back froze; he’d run through him.

Jennie was asleep when Alan got home and as a rule he would have showered and had breakfast before going up to bed. He was very careful to keep the noise down because the boys did not have to get up for school until seven thirty and once Jennie had seen them off she carried on to her part-time job at the local post office. It was unusual to hear the doors bang and when Alan grasped her shoulder to wake her she knew immediately that there was a problem. His face was drained white and he was shaking.

“Al? What’s wrong? What’s up love? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“ Jen… Jen!”

She was bolt upright by now and clasped his hands in hers.

“For God’s sake Alan, you’re shivering. What’s happened?”

“ Jen… I’ve… I saw… I’ve seen… Jen!”

“What the hell have you seen Al? Get me told! What’s gone on?”

He breathed more slowly until he had calmed himself and was able to relate to his wife what had happened. If he had simply seen the man… ghost… apparition… it would have been bad enough; what he could not cope with was the knowledge that he had run through him. Jennie sat and hugged him until he’d stopped shaking then persuaded him to take a hot shower and eat some breakfast. He’d been at work all night, arrived home, changed and gone straight out for his run. He would have been very tired by the time he reached the old pit lane and though she didn’t voice it aloud she couldn’t stop herself thinking that a tired, hungry man on a grey morning in a deserted area could have imagined the experience. It was not unknown for exhausted people to hallucinate and she had never been happy about Alan running straight after the night shift. On the other hand he was not given to letting his imagination run away with him. Jennie was a grounded, down to earth woman and she wanted to see what he’d be like after some food and five or six hours sleep. Her first priority was to get him warm because all the time they’d been hugging his body had felt unnaturally cold, almost icy.

As soon as he’d finished Jennie bundled him off to bed before the boys got up and once they were safely in school made her way to the post office where she worked part-time. She would be there for over three hours and hoped that Alan would sleep through until she arrived home. They had been married for twelve years and at no point had she ever seen him so frightened. Sheila, who worked in the post office with her, was busy with a customer but could see that Jennie was not herself. Once they got a minute she made them both a cup of tea and asked her if she felt poorly. Jennie told her what had happened and was taken aback when Sheila showed absolutely no surprise.

“Was he standing at the top of the pit lane, old fashioned clothes, smoking, never moved?”

“Yes, yes! How do you know? Who told you? Who is it? It’s spooked Alan witless; his eyes are bulging out of his skull. I’ve never seen him like that in all our married life.” 

“It was Seth, well that’s what they say, I’ve never seen him myself but Tom’s dad says he has and that’s how he described him. A lot of the old men say they’ve seen him but usually in the evening if they’ve fancied a walk out with the dogs or a breath of fresh air.”

“How do you know all this stuff? Who is this Seth? I’ve never heard any of this mentioned by anybody and there’s not much gets past Al’s mum and dad; there’s not much gets past Al if it comes to that.”

“Well from what I’ve heard and it’s not much mind, people who have seen him never say much about it. Perhaps you’ll have to ask Alan’s dad, he’s bound to know something – he’ll know more than me at any rate.”

At that point a steady stream of customers kept them busy because it was pension day and the old folk had to go in to collect their money and maybe pick up a few groceries. In some ways Jennie was glad because she was fretting about Alan and needed something to occupy her mind. On the stroke of one o’clock she had her coat on and was already half way through the door.

Alan had slept fitfully and Jennie arrived home to find him in the twilight zone between sleeping and waking, muttering and thrashing about with pillows and duvet thrown to the floor. He was wet through – and icy cold. She decided he would be better off awake and gently held his head in her hands. His eyes shot open and his neck snapped backwards like a startled rabbit facing a fox. Jennie couldn’t help noticing that there were a few grey hairs near his temples that she had never seen before. Normally they would have made a joke of it but Al was far from normal.  

When he seemed less agitated Jennie put some more blankets on the bed and gave him hot milk and biscuits. A quick glance in his drawer confirmed that he had taken his meds. She looked at him carefully, accustomed to seeing a face tanned from hours spent running, thick black hair and a powerful, muscular body. He seemed to be a shadow of the husband she loved so much as though the shock had somehow diminished his body. As soon as he was asleep she rang her father-in-law  George to tell him what had happened and find out if he could cast any light on the ‘Seth’ issue.

George knew more than Jennie expected; more than Jennie wanted to know.

Seth had worked down the pit from leaving school at fourteen. He came from a long family of miners but in his first month at work one of his uncles (Ezra) had been killed in a roof collapse. The rescue team had wanted to go in and dig him out almost before the dust cleared and the deputies agreed but the overman (Cecil Harris) told them to get up top and it didn’t go down well. A lot of the men and particularly Seth’s family thought Harris was spineless and stopped any chance of Ezra being pulled out alive.

At the end of Seth’s first year his mother’s brother was killed in a gas explosion. The whole area was supposed to have been checked and the men were told they could go down to the coalface. Jed (Seth’s uncle) said it didn’t smell right to him but Harris (again) told him to stop whining and get on his way. Jed was right, there was a gas problem and he got killed with six others badly injured. Harris took a lot of stick for that but he was an overman and it was always his version of events that went into the enquiry. The mine owners wanted accidents cleared up quickly with no blame attached and Harris obliged. Jed’s wife received no compensation because Harris said he’d told the men to hang back until they were sure any gas risk was gone.

Over the next ten years other members of the family were involved in all manner of accidents. There were no further deaths but one cousin was paralysed, another had his thumb severed, Seth’s eldest brother was badly burned and another blinded in one eye. These ‘accidents’ always occurred when Harris was in charge but no one could ever attach any blame to him and not one of the injured was ever properly compensated. The mine owners did offer to pay for a glass eye; needless to say it was turned down.

Seth’s youngest brother Eward worked down the pit – there were no other jobs for unqualified young men from poor families – and had what was then referred to as a bad chest. He should never have worked in a mine and there were occasions when he could scarcely breathe. One day in April Eddie was working in a damp area when the joists gave way and there was so much dust it was thicker than smog. He tried to make his way out but it started to flood, that’s why the joists were breaking up, the water had rotted them. The emergency horn sounded and Seth knew immediately that it was coming from the area where Eddie was working. He raced through the tunnels but the water was rising quickly. Eddie should have been able to drag himself away but he was still struggling to breathe. Seth could see him going under the water but Harris appeared and told him to go back, the water was rising too quickly and they only had a few minutes to get to the shaft and into the cage. Seth pushed him out of the way. He told Harris he was going in to get Eddie and he’d run through him if he had to because he couldn’t leave his brother to drown. Harris was too busy saving his own skin to argue so he stepped aside.

Seth wasn’t able to save his brother and they both died, trapped underground in freezing, stinking black water. Harris made it to the cage, got to the surface and that was that. When the water had been drained and the joists strengthened or replaced the rescue team went down and brought both men out. It wasn’t a pretty sight; they’d been in the water for almost a week. Seth’s wife was expecting a child but she didn’t know at the time; the lad never met his dad, Seth never met his lad. The men who knew him and said they’d seen him reckoned he couldn’t and wouldn’t rest until he’d seen his son. He stood at the top of the pit lane because directly underneath him was the place where he and his brother had drowned.

Jennie thanked him and replaced the phone; part of her wished she’d never rung him. At least it was quiet upstairs so Alan must have gone to sleep. 

The boys came home from school and went into next door’s garden to play football. Jennie made a cup of tea and some sandwiches in case Alan felt hungry. When the boys had asked where he was she told them he had a fever and needed to rest so they didn’t go up to see him. It was a miserable evening, damp and prematurely dark. Jennie, tray in both hands pushed open the door. A piercing scream echoed from the depths of her soul; sandwiches and tea somersaulted in every direction.

 

Gareth ran. He didn’t jog, he ran. He enjoyed running. It was twilight and he was half way down the old, rubble strewn path that snaked its way over the pit fields. He glanced up and was surprised to see a figure in the distance, a miner from the way he was dressed. He had a tanned face, thick black hair and a powerful, muscular body.

                                      

Jan

                                                                         

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