The Hollow Road
I. The whistle blew at five minutes to six, and the sound was the same as it had been every day for forty years—low, metallic, a sound that carried through the mine shafts and up into the sky and across the town of Coalwood, Pennsylvania, like a prayer that nobody wanted to hear. Danny McAllister was not in the mine when the whistle blew. He was three miles away, in a barn on Route 6, standing...
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