The Zero Game

“Exactly. The Homestead,” I say, nervously tapping a finger against one of the spare keyboards in the room. “So, getting back… I’m working on Congressman Grayson’s request for the land sale…”

“Oh, don’t everybody love a fight.”

“Some do,” I play along. “Personally, I’m just trying to make sure we do the right thing and put local interests first.” He’s silent at that, enjoying the sudden attention. “Anyway, as we push for the request, we’re trying to think who else we should go to for support, so would you mind walking me through how the town might benefit from the sale of the mine taking place? Or better yet, is there anyone in particular who’s excited by the deal going through?”

As he’s done twice before, the mayor laughs out loud. “Son, to be honest, you got as much chance sucking bricks through a hose as you do finding someone who’ll benefit from this one.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“And maybe I don’t, either,” the mayor admits. “But if I were putting up my money for a gold mine, I’d at least want one that had some gold.”

My finger stops tapping against the keyboard. “Excuse me?”

“The Homestead mine. Place is empty.”

“You sure about that?”

“Son, the Homestead may’ve broke ground in 1876, but the last ounce of gold was mined almost twenty years ago. Since then, seven different companies have tried to prove everyone wrong, and the last one went bust so ugly, they took most of the town with ’em. That’s why the land’s been sitting with the government. There used to be nine thousand of us here in town. Now we’re a hundred and fifty-seven. You don’t need an abacus to do that math.”

As he says the words, the storage room is dead silent, but I can barely hear myself think. “So you’re telling me there’s no gold in that mine?”

“Not for twenty years,” he repeats.

I nod even though he can’t see me. It doesn’t make any sense. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mayor – maybe I’m just dense, but if there’s no chance of finding gold, then why’d you write that letter?”

“What letter?”

My eyes drop to the desk, where Matthew’s old notebook holds a letter endorsing the land transfer to Wendell Mining. It’s signed by the mayor of Leed, South Dakota.

“You are Mayor Tom Regan, right?”

“Yep. Only one.”

I study the signature at the bottom of the letter. Then I reread it again. There’s a slight smudge on the R in Regan that makes it look just messy enough that it’d never get a second glance. And right there, for the first time since this all started, I start to see the ripple in the mirror.

“You still there, son?” the mayor asks.

“Yeah… no… I’m here,” I say. “I just… Wendell Mining…”

“Let me tell you about Wendell Mining. When they first came sniffing here, I personally called MSHA to-”

“Em-sha?”

“Mine Safety and Health Administration – the safety boys. When you’re mayor, you gotta know who’s coming to your town. So when I talked to my buddy there, he said these guys at Wendell may’ve bought the original mining claims to the land, and filed all the right paperwork, and even put enough money in someone’s pocket to get a favorable mineral report – but so help me, when we looked up their track record, these boys’ve never operated a single mine in their lives.”

A sharp pain in my stomach burns, and the fire quickly spreads. “You sure about that?”

“Son, did Elvis love bacon? I’ve seen this one a hundred and nineteen times before. A company like Wendell has a little bit of money, and a lotta bit of greed. If anyone would bother to ask me my opinion, I’d tell ’em that the last thing we need around here is to get everyone’s hopes up and then see ’em squashed once again. You know how it is in a small town… when those trucks showed up-”

“Trucks?” I interrupt.

“The ones that showed up last month. Isn’t that what you’re calling about?”

“Y-Yeah. Of course.” Matthew transferred the gold mine barely three days ago. Why were trucks there a month ago? “So they’re already mining?” I ask, completely confused.

“God knows what they’re doing… I went up there myself – y’know, just to make sure they’re doing things right with the union… Let me tell you right now, they don’t have a single piece of mining equipment up there. Not even a pelican pick. And when I asked them about it… let me just say… crickets aren’t as jumpy. I mean, those boys shooed me away like a fly on the wrong end of a horse.”

My hand holds tight to the receiver. “You think they’re doing something other than mining?”

“I don’t know what they’re doing, but if it were up to me-” He cuts himself off. “Son, can you hold on one second?” Before I can answer, I hear him in the background. “Aunt Mollie,” he calls out, suddenly excited. “What can I get you, dear?”

“Just the regular,” a woman with the sweetest hometown twang replies. “No jelly on the toast.”

Behind me, someone pounds shave-and-a-haircut against the door. “It’s me,” Viv calls out. I stretch the phone cord and undo the lock.

Viv steps inside, but the tap dance in her step is gone.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Did you get the-”