“That’s a good idea, Russ. Jerry and I will be out as soon as we can hitch a ride. Thanks for calling.” He slammed down the receiver and related the latest development to Jerry. Minutes later they were on their way.
As they swooped low across the small ghost town of McCarthy, Parker banked the plane sharply and indicated the unblemished expanses of white around the town. “No one has set down here since before the last snow,” he said.
“Is there anywhere else they might have landed?” Sandy asked.
“Maybe up at the mine proper. We’ll fly up that way and have a look.”
“Imagine having a ghost town up here,” Jerry marveled. “I thought they were exclusive to the old American West. It’s kind of spooky, everyone packing up and leaving a place. Almost as if it was haunted.”
“Ghost towns are haunted in a sense,” Sandy said. “By poverty and hunger. They’re towns that build up around mines and have no other livelihood. If the mines close down they’re doomed.”
“Any community that puts all its eggs in one basket runs the risk of becoming a ghost town,” Parker put in.
“Why did the Kennecott mine shut down?” Sandy asked curiously.
“The ore just ran out,” Parker said. “Here we are now.”
Below them Sandy saw a sprawling shedlike structure that seemed to be hanging on the side of a hill. “That’s the main building,” Parker said. “See those long wires that look like trolley cables? They used to send the ore down from the shafts by cable car. Then it was loaded on trains and shipped to Cordova to be put on ships.”