bacon, biscuits, and grits washed down with hot coffee.

 

This was a coal mining town. Rogers could see this in the bent, blackened, and

exhausted-looking men who came and went, the trucks hauling the black rock down

the streets, the mile-long trains carrying the mineral long-distance, and the

various plants parked around the area that dealt with turning the chunks of rock

into electricity in faraway places.

 

He had read in a newspaper in prison that coal was dying. It looked like it was

very much alive here.

 

He walked around the town, observing all the time. He was looking for something

in particular, and many hours later he found it.

 

The white panel van pulled up to the bar with flashing neon signs and two men

got out and went inside. Rogers followed.

 

The place was full. It was one of the few he’d seen in town that promised a bit

of fun in the face of geographical isolation and backbreaking labor. Line

dancing, nonstop drinking, pool, and video games.

 

Men and women hooked up and then parted. Glasses were lifted to mouths and

slammed back down on the scarred wood of the bar.

 

Pool balls were hit, aliens were killed on wide screens, and lips locked and