A Miner Misstep

The winter sun didn’t last long in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, but that didn’t stop dare devils and adventure seekers from venturing into the vast wilderness in search of the next adrenaline rush. For WeTuber sensation Deddy Kiss, this was the ultimate high-stakes video opportunity. He screeched into the desolate, ramshackle motel on the brink of Copperhead Point, deep in the rugged heart of copper country, a place teetering on the edge of oblivion.

He had poured over dusty old books and scoured obscure internet forums for months, piecing together every myth and legend that whispered about undiscovered lands. His heart raced at the thought of capturing a viral video, one that would propel him back into the limelight. Copperhead Point held the key, with its fabled "missing" mine. The ghost story was shrouded in mystery, its details scattered and unclear, like a puzzle missing too many pieces. The odds were stacked against him; the directions he'd gathered were as patchy as an old treasure map. Still, the thrill of the chase called to him. If he found the mine, it would be the ultimate adventure and his triumphant return to fame.

After a quick check in with a man as rundown as the motel itself, he tossed his single bag onto the bed and grabbed water from his cooler before he rushed back out, eager to get started on his new video. He started the MoPro on his dash and pasted on the smile the ladies in the comments loved so much. “Hey, Deddy Crew, It’s me, your fearless quest leader, on our next hunt. This time we are searching for the fabled site of the 1912 copper mine disaster that killed and entombed over forty-two unlucky miners here in Copperhead Point in the stunningly beautiful UP of Michigan. Located in the Copper Harbor area on the shores of the beautiful and deadly Lake Superior.” He huffed and clicked the recorder button off.

“Did I say beautiful too much?” As he took a deep gulp of water, he pondered while driving up the lengthy, twisting driveway lined with bare trees and an unsettling light green moss covering the decaying undergrowth. A lone white stag stood majestically amid the gnarled, fallen trees, a solitary symbol of life amid the death. He shivered involuntarily as he parked in front of the snowmobile rental cabin.

Shaking off the omen he couldn’t possibly understand, he grabbed his camera bag, strapped on his MoPro and flipped it on to get some B roll footage as he walked into the rental place and signed all the forms and paid all the fees. Soon, he was climbing aboard his borrowed snowmobile ready to head out in search of the Copperhead Point Mine. The wicked northern wind bit into his exposed skin like viper fangs, causing painful stings followed by icy burns as he flew too fast through the vast landscape with only his satellite GPS and a dream.

Rather than appreciating the ethereal silhouettes of animals observing him flying by or the way the setting sun shimmered on the snowy landscape, he concentrated solely on preparing his next speech for his admirers and ensuring his hair looked perfect once he removed his helmet. Unfortunately, he neglected to pay attention to his surroundings, missing the miner with a soot-streaked grin emerging from the trees, smiling for the first time in over a hundred years.

Deddy only slowed when his GPS beeped. It was at the location, and he pulled in between two towering trees to speak to his camera. “That was a hell of a ride through the woods, wasn’t it? I’m so glad to have you with me on this journey, otherwise I’d be lonely. So, make sure if you are enjoying our time together that you hit that subscribe button and we can stay friends and travel buddies.” He climbed off the snowmobile, his feet sinking into the snow up to his knees, but the freezing was ignored as he continued speaking to himself and his 100,000 subscribers.

“This is the best information I could gather about the location of the Copperhead Point Mine. Considering the great tragedy associated with it, you'd expect the locals or the government to have kept more detailed records. Unfortunately, like so many things, it was lost to time. That's why I'm here—to rediscover history and bring it back into the light.” He trudged through the thick snow, each step a challenge, but he hoped the reward would justify the effort, so he persevered even when his lungs pleaded for rest.

“We are about 10 feet from where the mine was supposed to actually be, but I haven’t been able to spot anything that looks like a hole in the ground or a cave. I’m going to have to be careful in case there is a boarded-up space here under the snow. The last thing I want to do is fall and disappear. You all would miss me, wouldn’t you?” He laughed, and it echoed off the silence of the winter forest, creating a sinister sound that chilled his already freezing bones. He let out a slow breath as his heart raced from fear instead of fun. “Calm down, Deddy,” he muttered to himself, knowing he would have to cut that part when he edited this video.

He inhaled sharply as the sun burst forth from behind a winter cloud, casting a harsh glare on a trail of footprints etched in the snow. "Someone else has been here," he muttered, his voice tinged with urgency. Instinctively, his hand flew to the gun he carries for protection when alone. His eyes darted over the footprints, scrutinizing each detail with suspicion. He snapped pictures, and zoomed in with his video camera, capturing every nuance before crouching down to measure the mysterious prints. Suddenly, he slipped on the treacherous snow, crashing heavily into the nearest footprint. To his astonishment, the print remained unaltered, untouched by his clumsiness—it was as though it was locked in an eternal moment, frozen in time.

“What? How?” he said as he stood, a little shakier this time.

“It’s mine.” A deep, rough voice stated from beside him.

Deddy jumped as his hand flew to his chest. “My god! You scared me, man.” He eyed the newcomer with a sense of foreboding and fear. He was a guy around Deddy’s age, but covered in grime and dressed in the same filthy garb as the pictures that Deddy had found on the internet of early nineteen hundred miners. “You a tour guide or something?”

“Something,” the man answered as he tucked his work weathered hands into the torn and frayed pocket of his work pants. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“For me?” Deddy frowned as he searched his mind. “Did the snowmobile place let you know I was looking for the mine?"

The man narrowed his eyes at Deddy and then back at his snowmobile. A slow smile curved his face, crinkling the coal dust into the fine lines of his face and smearing it across his teeth. “I know right where the Copperhead Point Mine is. You just have to follow me. Will you?”

“Uh…” Deddy sighed, his mind drifting to his dwindling bank balance and his fading fan base. “Of course, I will. But I’m going to be recording this for the internet. You cool with that? I’ll have you sign a waiver when we get back to the snowmobile shack.”

“Sure,” the man said as he turned to walked future into the woods.

“So,” Deddy said as he struggled to keep up. “What’s your name?”

“William Beauchamp. What’s yours?”

“Deddy Kiss.”

The man stopped and turned to look at him. “Is that the name your mama gave you, then?”

“No.” Deddy smirked. “It’s the clever one I came up with. My actual name is Fred Kissinger.”

“Clever?” The man nodded as he started again. “Be careful, Fred. There are spots around here where the ground is soggy and soft from the mine. Don’t want to fall in just yet.”

“Facts,” Deddy murmured and stepped only where William stepped. “Do you all do tours out here or something? I couldn’t seem to find anything about the mine online.”

“No. It’s not safe for humans out here,” William murmured as he came to a stop in an empty clearing.

Deddy glanced around. “Is the mine entrance close to here?”

William nodded gravely. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice laden with the weight of a thousand regrets. “The land is cursed, you understand? It demands a sacrifice, an exchange of souls for liberation—a soul for a soul. We were blind, ignorant fools when we began mining, unaware that the land had already been claimed, that restless spirits had been trapped here for centuries, yearning for release. They needed us to take their place. And now, it's my turn to escape this damnation, to finally go home. But the guilt gnaws at me, Fred, knowing that my freedom comes at the cost of your imprisonment.”

Deddy’s heart raced as he stared at the man but confused, he scoffed. “Listen, I appreciate you playing it up for the cameras and all… but it’s super creepy. Might want to tone it down.”

William's frown deepened into a scowl as he lunged toward Deddy, unleashing a powerful shove that seemed impossible for someone of his stature. The impact sent Deddy crashing to the ground with a resounding thud, every bone in his body vibrating with excruciating pain. Before anger or indignation could even register, the earth beneath him betrayed its weakness, collapsing under his weight. He plunged through decaying scaffolding, tearing through a suffocating mass of cobwebs, only to slam down with bone-cracking agony onto a heap of skeletal remains.

Gasping for air and whimpering in pain, Deddy forced his eyes open, and his heart pounded violently as he found himself staring into his own reflection. William's new lips twisted into a smug smirk as he tugged on his pristine new winter coat, the fabric rustling ominously. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed the snowmobile key high into the air, catching it with a triumphant flourish before he said, “I hope you understand that I didn’t have a choice, Fred. Enjoy your time.”

Deddy's panicked wails and sobbing screams tore through the woods like a siren of despair, as William, now cloaked in the freshly donned skin of Deddy Kiss, strode with determination past the snowmobile. His eyes locked onto the white stag, its gaze unyielding and ethereal. With a voice heavy with the weight of hard-won liberation, he declared, "Liberty always comes at a cost."

The stag lowered his antlered head, eyes narrowing as he watched William leave the shadowy woods, whistling a tune that seemed to mock the grim stillness around them. His gaze shifted to the source of the fading screams, now reduced to pitiful whimpers. The land seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as the cries were swallowed by an oppressive silence. With a shuddering inhale, the stag bolted, thundering into the heart of the unforgiving winter wilderness, seeking refuge from the haunting echoes of the forest.