Stay in the Light - Chapter 3
AUTHOR:Scullspeare
SUMMARY: Casefic. There's something out there in the dark, ripping its victims apart - and now it has Sam and Dean in its sights.
SPOILERS: Set Season 4-ish. A casefic which takes place in-between canon hunts.
DISCLAIMER: The characters of Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke & Co. I am playing in their sandbox, with their toys, with much gratitude.
RATING: T for some swearing.
WORD COUNT: 27K
GENRE: Gen/Hurt-Comfort/Adventure
Link back to Chapter 2 Here
STAY IN THE LIGHT - CHAPTER 3
"This is a bad idea, fellas." Gus, the mine foreman, shook his head as he looked at Sam's battered face. "You've already been hurt once. It's not safe in there."
"Tell that to mayor. He threatened to get us fired if we don't find the source of this leak and stop it up ASAP." Like his brother, Dean was once again dressed in Swancott orange coveralls and a mining helmet.
"The mayor's an ass." Gus glanced worriedly from Sam to Dean. "And I've told him as much to his face many times. Why the hell's he so bent out of shape about this mine, anyway?"
Dean grinned as he picked up his air tanks. "Don't know, don't care. Just know we need to get the job done."
Gus still didn't look convinced. "I want you out of there ASAP. We're not pushing the envelope." He tapped the tanks Dean carried. "And like I said before-"
"Keep an eye on the gauges." Dean grinned. "Trust me, we're not staying any longer than we have to."
Sam zipped up his coveralls and smiled tightly. "We appreciate your concern, Gus but, like Dean said, we've got a job to do. And the sooner we find the source of that leak and set the explosives, the sooner the mayor is off all our backs."
Gus stared at the brothers for a moment, then crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay, here's the deal. I want a check in by radio every 15 minutes, letting me know you're okay and where you are. I'll have someone up here monitoring those check-ins, and they'll keep monitoring until we see your two ugly mugs rolling out of the main tunnel on my mantrip. Got it?"
"Got it," the brothers answered in unison.
Just under an hour later, Sam and Dean were entering the old mine for the second time. For this trip, they'd each clipped battery-powered lights to the back of their collars and the back of their belts, the beams shining behind them as they walked, hopefully making it more difficult for the spirits to launch a sneak attack. In addition to the small duffels over their shoulders holding their own equipment and an extra air tank each, they also carried the jury-rigged air rifles.
As they walked Sam glanced at Dean's duffel. "You okay with the explosives? I mean, we do this wrong, we're gonna bring the mountain down on top of us."
Dean grinned. "We're not gonna do it wrong. I can't wait to flip the switch."
Sam shook his head. "You're having way more fun with this than you should be."
Dean's grin widened. "A man needs a little fun, Sammy. We're about to spend all day crawling around in a dusty old mine, looking for spirits who want to rip our throats out. This at least gives me something to look forward to." He shook his head when he scanned the tunnel ahead and the enormity of the mine hit home. "Damn, there's a lot of ground to cover. A lot of hidey holes for our not-so-friendly spirits."
"We've safely got seven or eight hours of air, nine if we push it, but we could split up - cover twice the real estate in half the time," Sam offered, although he knew what Dean's response would be before the words left his lips. He wasn't disappointed.
"Screw that." Dean started walking, finger twitching on the trigger of his gun. "We stick together. I want your sorry ass watching mine while I watch yours."
Sam grinned. "Keep saying stuff like that and you'll get the miners talking."
"Shut up." Dean shot a glare over his shoulder. "Just keep your eyes peeled. The faster we see daylight, the happier I'll be."
After almost three hours, they'd covered just under half the mine. They were dirty, sweaty, and frustrated but had still seen no sign of the spirits, or their remains.
Sam checked his gas detector, then, seeing the levels were in the safe zone, pulled off his helmet, shoved up his mask and took a long drink from a bottle of water he'd snagged from his duffel. "Last time they came after us pretty damn quick, now they're no shows? What gives?"
"We've got more light," Dean glanced down at his air rifle, "and I'm guessing we're the first ones in a long time to shoot 'em with something that stings."
Sam glanced behind him. "Or they could be lying in wait for us somewhere."
Dean snorted. "Thank you, Mary Sunshine. If you- Bingo! Suspect number one, ten o'clock."
Sam's heart started racing as he spun around and followed Dean's directive. But it wasn't a spirit Dean had seen. It was a skeleton slumped against the tunnel wall on their left, small, tattered pieces of cloth that had once been clothes stuck to its bones.
Dean, pulling supplies from his duffel, frowned at his brother. "Dude, get the lead out. Clock's ticking. You take care of Skeletor, I'll take care of the rest."
Sam yanked down his mask and replaced his helmet. "Go to town, demolition man. Just don't blow us up in the process."
The methane gas in the mine made a simple salt and burn impossible. The brothers had considered loading up the bones and hauling them to the surface to burn later but that just gave the spirits more time to wreak havoc, and there was always the risk of leaving a piece, however small, behind.
But a controlled explosion to burn off the methane gave them the perfect cover. Once the bones were salted and soaked in kerosene, Dean could rig a two-stage explosion, the first to ignite the gas and vaporize the bones, the second to bring the tunnel down and seal anything that may survive the explosion inside the mountain for good.
Sam watched Dean set the explosives. "Does it ever scare you, even a little, the stuff we know how to do? How many ways we know to kill things?"
"We know our jobs, Sammy. That's all." Dean pressed a small clump of explosive onto a support beam. "Check in with Gus and then let's move. We've still got two more of these pricks to find."
Almost two hours later and several tunnels over they found the second two skeletons, slumped against opposite walls about ten feet from each other. Again, Sam salted and soaked the remains while Dean rigged the explosives.
As Dean worked, the faceplate of his mask fogged up. He froze momentarily, before realizing sweat, not the spirits' arrival, had caused the problem. "Son of a bitch." He checked the methane detector on his belt; it read in the low range. With that reassurance, he pulled off his mask and helmet, gratefully swiping his arm across his face to wipe away the sweat.
Sam's eyes widened when he saw his brother without his mask. "Dean?"
"Can't see a freaking thing. And when you're working with explosives, that ain't good." Unhindered by the mask, Dean quickly rigged the charges and set the timer. "There. All done."
"Good." Sam checked the gauge for his breathing gear, which registered in the warning zone. "Let's change out the tanks and get the hell outta here." He scanned the tunnel suspiciously as he unclipped the harness. "Why does it feel like not seeing the spirits is bad…very bad?"
"'Cause you're a suspicious bastard. And I taught you everything you know." Dean started to unbuckle the straps holding his air tanks in place but stopped, sniffing the air suspiciously.
Sam hauled his spare tank from his duffel, then frowned when he realized Dean was staring down the tunnel. "What?"
"Hold on." Dean turned his head and sniffed again. "The air here…it smells different."
Sam's frown deepened as he quickly checked his gas detector. "Dude, you know methane's odorless. It's-"
"That's not it." Dean shook his head; they'd lifted their masks a few times over the course of the day to take a drink and the air in the mine had a telltale, musty smell. "The air here…it's fresher.
Sam glanced around. "Maybe we're near a vent."
"Maybe." Dean dropped his near-empty tanks on the ground, then walked to where the tunnel ended in a T-junction. He nodded as he glanced right. "Or it could be that."
"What?" Sam slipped the single, full tank on his back and fastened the straps as he followed Dean. He rounded the corner to see his brother standing in front of a pile of rubble and looking up. Part of the mountain had collapsed into the tunnel, creating an opening to the outside high above them. A small patch of bright sunlight pushed its way through the breach into the mine, offering a welcome respite from the endless sea of black they'd spent the day in.
Dean squinted up at the breach. "One question, though. If the spirits can't stand the light, how are they wandering around up there? I mean, that sunlight hurts my eyes right now and we've been down here less than a day."
As if in answer to his question, the light from above dimmed as a cloud passed over the sun.
Sam shrugged. "I'll bet that if we got hold of the weather reports from the days the four men were killed, the words 'heavy cloud cover' would be in them somewhere. And if the spirits stuck to the shadows…" He reached into his duffel. "Anyway, let's make sure there are no more field trips before we get a chance to blow this place up."
Dean watched as his brother laid down a thick line of salt across the tunnel, along each wall and in front of the pile of rubble, sealing off the "escape hatch" from the spirits. "Part of me says you're being overly anal about this but given what these bastards have done, go for it."
As he poured the salt, Sam's stomach roiled when he thought about how long the miners had been trapped in the original cave-in, what they'd had to endure. And then, against all odds, they'd escaped, only to be shunned by those they'd once called family and friends. He closed his eyes as his stomach did another somersault.
"Dude, if you're gonna puke, take your mask off first."
Dean's jibe pulled him back to the present. "I'm fine." Sam dropped the salt canister back into his duffel and rolled his eyes at Dean's disbelieving expression. "Just change your damn tank so we can go."
"Roger that." Dean made short work of hooking up the fresh tank, then slung his duffel over his shoulder and quickly slid his mask and helmet back into place. "After you, Sammy. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner I can flip the switch and get rid of these bastards for good."
"Amen to that." Sam glanced around suspiciously.
"What?"
"It's like I said before, the spirits, they're too damn quiet." Sam shook his head. "I don't like it."
"That makes two of us." Dean's grip tightened on his rifle as he glanced back at the rubble pile, then up at the breach. "Wanna try this exit." He tilted his head up. "It's, what? A twenty-five, thirty-foot climb?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah. That's three stories of unstable rubble. And we have no climbing gear and no freaking clue where it comes out." He pulled the map of the mine from his pocket and dragged his finger in a double-dogleg up the middle. "We covered a lot more ground to get here than we need to get back. We go this way, it should get us back to the Swancott mine in about thirty minutes."
Dean again glanced up at the tempting quick exit but slowly shook his head. "If we'd brought the rope…maybe. But yeah, we go through the tunnels." He turned to Sam and raised his rifle. "Double-time?"
Sam nodded and the brothers set off at a jog. They weren't exactly speedy given all the gear they were wearing but had covered about a third of their route when Sam turned a corner and skidded to a halt. Dean almost ran into him, but quickly saw the reason his brother had slammed on the brakes. Ahead of them, just within the reach of their helmet lamps, the three spirits stood shoulder-to-shoulder, blocking the tunnel.
"Son of a…." Dean's focus stayed locked on the spirits as he gripped the air rifle in frustration, cursing the weapon's limited range.
Sam had edged a little closer to Dean, their shoulders almost bumping. "They're gonna have to move. As soon as our lights hit them-"
"Then what's their game?" Dean's finger twitched on the trigger. "They're up to something."
"Yeah, but what?"
"Only one way to find out." Dean raised his rifle and stalked forward. Sam quickly fell in step beside him.
As the brothers began moving, two of the spirits each stepped forward and raised their arms, for the first time revealing large, well-used pickaxes, and swung them with practised ease at the old wooden railroad ties that shored up the tunnel walls.
Sam and Dean lifted their rifles and fired, the two axe-wielding spirits now in range, and the ghosts dissipated as the shots found their mark, but not before their axes slammed into the tunnel supports. Dust began to rain down from the ceiling, the sound of splintering wood slowly replaced by a thunderous rumble. As Dean shifted his aim and blasted the third spirit, the two beams cleaved by the axes toppled into the tunnel. By the time the ghost vanished, still smiling coldly as he disappeared, the shower of dirt and dust tumbling into the mine had become an avalanche.
It was a domino effect. Wall and ceiling beams fell, pulling with them rocks and dirt which, in turn, pulled down more beams, rapidly filling in the tunnel.
Sam and Dean were already moving backwards, away from the advancing debris, when there was a sickening crack right above them. Instinctively, Sam spun to his left and shoved Dean out of the way just as the tinder dry roof truss gave way, dumping timber, rocks and dirt onto Sam.
The rumble of the tunnel collapse died out as quickly as it began, but it left a sea of debris in its wake and the brothers buried in the midst of it.
xxxXXXxxx
Dean jolted awake and scowled at his hazy vision as he forced open his eyes. It took a moment for his brain to catch up and realize the problem wasn't with his eyes but with the thick layer of dust that coated the breathing mask covering his face.
"Son of a bitch." He was lying on his stomach, the side of his face pressed into the ground. He swiped a hand over his mask and glanced around as he frantically tried to piece together why he felt like he'd been through the spin cycle in one of those industrial washing machines at the laundromat.
Mine. Spirits. Cave-in.
"Damn it to hell." He coughed, his voice rough. "Sammy, you good?" He stilled when there was no response. "Sam?"
When there was still no answer, he tried to push himself up but a heavy weight on his back pinned him in place. His head snapped around and his struggles intensified, ready to fight whoever was holding him down, but there was no one there. The lamp from his helmet, sitting upside down beside him on the ground, lit up a splintered railroad tie that lay across his legs and back, each end buried in a pile of rubble. Dean reached behind him, grunting at the awkward angle, and gave it a shove. It shifted only a little, but it was enough that he suddenly had room to move his legs and drag himself slowly forward and out from under the beam. "Sam? Answer me, damn it. How you doing?"
He rolled over and sat up with a groan, grabbing his helmet and placing it back on his head. Dean wiped more dirt from his mask, then used the helmet lamp to scan the pitch-black mine tunnel. He froze when he saw the pile of rubble in front of him-and his brother buried in the middle of it.
Only Sam's head and arm were visible, his head hanging forward, his face hidden behind his mask and a curtain of dust-covered hair. The bright orange of his coverall sleeve stood out in stark relief against the browns and grays of the debris. His helmet had also been knocked from his head and sat upside down at the base of the rubble pile. A large rock had landed inside it, tilting it upward so the beam of the helmet lamp hit Sam squarely in the face in a kind of macabre spotlight.
"Sammy?" Dean scrambled to his feet and stumbled over the debris-strewn floor to get to his brother. His stomach churned, his heart trying to punch its way out of his chest because…because Sam looked dead.
Dean sank down onto the rubble and pressed his fingers against Sam's carotid artery. His brother's skin was cool but not cold to the touch, and beneath it a pulse beat steadily. But any relief he felt from that discovery was tempered by the fact that Sam was still unconscious and trapped under a ton of rubble. Dean carefully tilted up his brother's head; his stomach lurched when he saw that Sam's mask had taken a blow in the cave-in, the spider web of cracks making the Plexiglas opaque. He gently pulled off the mask to find Sam's eyes closed and the gash on his temple from their earlier clash with the spirits reopened, sending fresh blood running down his nose and cheek.
Practised hands quickly triaged Sam. Dean grimaced when he found a large lump on the back of his brother's skull, the hair covering it sticky with blood. "Damn it, Sammy. You're a mess." He cursed again when he went to replace the oxygen mask and discovered the tube connecting the mask to the air tank on Sam's back had been severed.
A quick glance at his gas detector told Dean methane was present but levels were low. Dean pulled off his own helmet and mask and quickly secured the mask onto Sam before shrugging off the harness holding his air cylinder and wedging it in the rocks at his brother's side."
Unencumbered by the breathing gear, Dean moved more easily as he tackled the bigger problem of getting Sam free. He first pulled smaller rocks away from his brother, then tried to lift the broken beam than ran diagonally across Sam's chest from left shoulder to waist. It wouldn't budge. Dean changed angles and tried again but there was still no give.
"Son of a bitch." Dean spat out dirt and dust he'd inhaled, then scrambled up the rubble pile beside Sam, sat down, and wedged both feet against the beam, grunting loudly as he pushed. The support stayed stubbornly in place.
Dean studied the beam as he caught his breath. Both ends seemed to be trapped under large, heavy pieces of rock that rested on smaller pieces of rubble. The problem was that if he pulled out the smaller pieces and the larger boulders dropped, the beam would drop, too, likely crushing Sam. He scrubbed a hand down his face: he needed something to lever up the beam and keep it supported and off Sam while he worked the rocks loose.
Dean shivered as a blast of cold air blew through the tunnel, his skin pebbling with goose bumps. He glanced around, immediately on edge. "I think our friends are back, Sammy." He rechecked Sam's pulse-it was still steady-pushed himself to his feet, then scanned the tunnel again, this time spotting the strap of his duffel sticking out from under a pile of dirt. "What say we spook-proof this place while I dig you out, huh? Last thing we need is those bastards sneaking up on us."
He crossed quickly to his duffel, unzipped it and pulled out the lantern. He flipped the switch and exhaled gratefully when it turned on. Glancing up, he spotted a bent nail protruding from the broken beam above Sam's head, and stretched up to hang the lantern from it, the light pooling around his brother.
He then grabbed a canister of salt and laid down a thick line across the open tunnel behind them, along each of the walls and around Sam. As he poured the salt, Dean flipped the switch on his radio to transmit to the surface. "Mayday, mayday. We have a cave-in in the old mine with a man trapped. Please respond." He punched the tunnel wall in frustration when the only reply was static. He tried again. "I repeat, we have a cave-in in the old mine with a man trapped. We need rescue personnel and medical assistance. Access from Swancott is cut off but there's a surface breach about two klicks east of our location. You can enter the mine there. Respond, damn it."
Again, there was nothing but static. "Son of a bitch. Gus, I'm holding you to your word. We're way overdue for a check-in so I hope you're cursing a blue streak at us right now. And rallying the cavalry."
As he glanced down, a pair of unfocused hazel eyes stared back at him from behind the facemask. "Hey, 'bout time you woke up."
Sam blinked slowly, screwing up his face as he lifted his head. "Ow."
Dean winced in sympathy as he dropped beside Sam and reached into their duffel. "Ow, huh? Given the circumstances, I was expecting something with at least four letters."
"What-?" Sam coughed as he glanced around, his eyes widening as the fog of unconsciousness cleared. "What the-?" Panic quickly set in as he began pushing desperately at the beam across his chest. "Dean, get me out. Get this off-"
"Hey, hey, hey…." Dean grabbed Sam's hand and trapped it inside his fist. "Calm down." He waited 'til his brother looked up at him, eyes wide. "Dude, you're stuck pretty good. You freaking out's not gonna help matters. Now chill. I'll get you out. You've got my word on that."
Sam stared at Dean for a long moment, then closed his eyes, nodded, and swallowed, willing himself to calm down. His eyes stayed closed until his rapid breathing had slowed to almost normal. He coughed, then opened his eyes to find Dean holding a bottle of water in front of him.
Mindful of the reopened cut, Dean slid Sam's mask onto the top of his head. "Drink some of this, but take it slow."
Sam nodded, taking the bottle and swallowing a small mouthful. "How long…how long was I out?"
Dean shook his head. "Not long. Just enough for me to light up this place and lay down some salt, make sure our friends don't crash the rescue party."
Sam was studying Dean, now. "What about you? Y'okay?"
"M'fine, thanks to you shoving me out of the way." Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam. "'Course, I'd be more impressed if you'd got your own sorry ass clear at the same time."
Sam snorted softly. "Me too. You call for help?"
Dean nodded. "Made a 911 call on the radio but dunno whether it got through." He turned back to Sam and pulled his brother's breathing mask back into place. "Now talk to me. I need a self-diagnostic."
"Dude, I'm not a car." Sam frowned at Dean. "And where's your mask?"
Dean grinned. "On your face." He pointed to the smashed mask on the tunnel floor at the base of the rubble pile. "Yours was K.I.A. Gave its life to save your ugly mug."
Sam ignored the jibe, his worried expression deepening as he stared at the smashed mask. "You need one…the gas."
"Relax." Dean tapped the gas detector on his belt as he began picking up pieces of debris in search of one that would help free Sam. "Barely any gas here. I'm fine. Now don't change the subject. Most of you's hidden from me. I need to know if anything feels…off."
"Head hurts…little hard to breathe…can't move." Sam winced behind the mask. "Other than that, I'm awesome."
Dean frowned. "What about your left arm? Your legs?"
Sam sighed. "Arm feels kinda pinched, like it's in a vise."
"Can you move your fingers?"
Sam closed his eyes. "A little." He bit his lip as his eyes slid open and he looked up at Dean. "Legs are kinda numb."
Dean swallowed against a wave of nausea and quickly schooled his features. "Try moving your toes." He waited expectantly. "Well? Can you?"
"Yeah." Sam gave a terse nod. "Hurts, but yeah."
"Hurting's good." Dean's internal panic dropped a notch at that piece of information. "That means the spark plugs are still firing and the wiring's intact."
Sam winced again as he tried to move. "Look, just so we're clear, you get me out of this mess, I want a doctor, not a mechanic."
Dean grinned. "Look at that, snark's intact, too. Another good sign."
Sam glanced around. "The spirits. You seen 'em since…since this happened?"
Dean shook his head. "Not since I came to."
Sam looked up at Dean. "I think I know why they haven't attacked us."
Dean raised an eyebrow as he dragged a broken beam toward Sam. "They dropped half the mountain on you, Sammy. I think that qualifies as an attack."
"I mean like the others." Sam watched as Dean wedged the piece of wood under the beam lying across his chest. "I think this is what they had in mind. To trap us in here, let us starve to death…slowly go crazy. Just like they did."
Dean snorted. "Well, screw that plan. We're both getting out and when you're patched up, and their bones are torched, we're getting a six-pack and a dozen of Molly's honeybuns-each-to celebrate." Anger twisted his gut as he looked down at his trapped brother. "And after what they did to you, I'm not gonna feel guilty about stuffing my face. Not even a little bit."
Sam shot a look down the tunnel then turned to Dean. "You need to go."
"Shut up." Dean rammed another broken beam under the piece of wood trapping Sam. "We'll both go, just as soon as I get you out."
"No, Dean. Now." Sam kept his voice low. "Those spirits worked this mine and they've been here a long time. They know all its weak points. Right now, you can still get out." He was wheezing audibly. "Backtrack to that tunnel collapse that opens to the surface and climb out. If you wait, if they bring down another tunnel, then we really will be trapped in here."
"Stop talking. And I told you, we go out together. End of story." Dean nodded, satisfied, as he studied the placement of the supports. "Okay, that should hold up the beam that's pinning you while I move the rocks around. I'll have you free in no time."
Dean coughed, then began pulling out rocks, tossing them behind him as he worked. A smile started to form when he moved one rock and revealed a patch of dirty orange coverall. It was Sam's leg. But the smile disappeared almost instantly at the sound of a rumble from within the debris. Before he could do anything to stop it, the rubble shifted, the beam pinning his brother slid sideways and Sam screamed out in pain.
"Son of a bitch." Dean lifted both hands, suddenly afraid that if he moved another piece he'd further hurt his brother. "Sammy?"
Sam's eyes were still screwed closed but he gave Dean a shaky thumbs up. "M'okay…m'okay."
"Like hell you are." Dean glared at the debris. The wooden braces were still holding; nothing should've moved. There had to be some piece he couldn't see that was acting as a linchpin. "Damn it, I'm sorry. I-"
"Not your fault." Sam's eyes were open now. "But you gotta go, Dean. Now."
Dean's stomach lurched because Sam was right. He was working blind, and just as likely to crush his brother as free him. To get him out safely, they needed more hands, more equipment. "Damn it to hell. I-"
"Dean." Sam waited until Dean turned to him. "You'll get me out. You always save my ass, right." He swallowed. "Here, take this…" Sam grabbed his mask and started to pull it off.
"Whoa, whoa…." Dean stopped him. "You leave that right where it is."
Sam shook his head. "The gas pockets-"
"I'm heading for fresh air," Dean said matter-of-factly as he replaced the mask on Sam's face. "Trail's well-marked. A quick sprint and I'll be in the clear. No worries."
Sam nodded but looked far from convinced. He watched as Dean changed the batteries in the lantern, replaced it on its nail perch, and wedged the lights that had been on his collar and belt into the rocks on either side of Sam. His brother next reloaded his air rifle, then poured water on his bandanna, folded it in half diagonally and tied it over his mouth and nose. He grabbed his gun, gave Sam a two-fingered salute and turned to leave.
"Dean…before you go…." Sam swallowed. "Gimme my gun."
Dean's eyes widened over the bandanna. "Your air rifle's buried."
Sam shook his head. "My real gun, from the duffel. I want it for me, not the spirits. If something goes wrong, and you can't get back, I'm not gonna let those things get me. I'm not gonna waste away down here. Gimme my gun so-"
"No." Dean crouched down in front of Sam. "It won't come to that, Sammy. I promise you." He pulled down the bandanna, cupped his hand at the back of Sam's head and looked him straight in the eye, their faces inches apart. "Just… keep it together. The light'll protect you, and I'll be back with help as soon as I can."
He sat back on his haunches and held up his hand.
Sam grabbed it. "Be careful. That's not an easy climb. You said so yourself."
Dean tapped his fist against Sam's shoulder, then pulled up the bandanna and grabbed his gun. "I was talking about for you. That growth spurt at fifteen really threw off your center of gravity. Me? Like a cat." He stood up and gave a quick nod. "Hang tight. I'll be back before you know it."
With that, Dean turned, sprinted down the tunnel and was gone.
To Chapter 4
SUMMARY: Casefic. There's something out there in the dark, ripping its victims apart - and now it has Sam and Dean in its sights.
SPOILERS: Set Season 4-ish. A casefic which takes place in-between canon hunts.
DISCLAIMER: The characters of Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke & Co. I am playing in their sandbox, with their toys, with much gratitude.
RATING: T for some swearing.
WORD COUNT: 27K
GENRE: Gen/Hurt-Comfort/Adventure
Link back to Chapter 2 Here
STAY IN THE LIGHT - CHAPTER 3
"This is a bad idea, fellas." Gus, the mine foreman, shook his head as he looked at Sam's battered face. "You've already been hurt once. It's not safe in there."
"Tell that to mayor. He threatened to get us fired if we don't find the source of this leak and stop it up ASAP." Like his brother, Dean was once again dressed in Swancott orange coveralls and a mining helmet.
"The mayor's an ass." Gus glanced worriedly from Sam to Dean. "And I've told him as much to his face many times. Why the hell's he so bent out of shape about this mine, anyway?"
Dean grinned as he picked up his air tanks. "Don't know, don't care. Just know we need to get the job done."
Gus still didn't look convinced. "I want you out of there ASAP. We're not pushing the envelope." He tapped the tanks Dean carried. "And like I said before-"
"Keep an eye on the gauges." Dean grinned. "Trust me, we're not staying any longer than we have to."
Sam zipped up his coveralls and smiled tightly. "We appreciate your concern, Gus but, like Dean said, we've got a job to do. And the sooner we find the source of that leak and set the explosives, the sooner the mayor is off all our backs."
Gus stared at the brothers for a moment, then crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay, here's the deal. I want a check in by radio every 15 minutes, letting me know you're okay and where you are. I'll have someone up here monitoring those check-ins, and they'll keep monitoring until we see your two ugly mugs rolling out of the main tunnel on my mantrip. Got it?"
"Got it," the brothers answered in unison.
Just under an hour later, Sam and Dean were entering the old mine for the second time. For this trip, they'd each clipped battery-powered lights to the back of their collars and the back of their belts, the beams shining behind them as they walked, hopefully making it more difficult for the spirits to launch a sneak attack. In addition to the small duffels over their shoulders holding their own equipment and an extra air tank each, they also carried the jury-rigged air rifles.
As they walked Sam glanced at Dean's duffel. "You okay with the explosives? I mean, we do this wrong, we're gonna bring the mountain down on top of us."
Dean grinned. "We're not gonna do it wrong. I can't wait to flip the switch."
Sam shook his head. "You're having way more fun with this than you should be."
Dean's grin widened. "A man needs a little fun, Sammy. We're about to spend all day crawling around in a dusty old mine, looking for spirits who want to rip our throats out. This at least gives me something to look forward to." He shook his head when he scanned the tunnel ahead and the enormity of the mine hit home. "Damn, there's a lot of ground to cover. A lot of hidey holes for our not-so-friendly spirits."
"We've safely got seven or eight hours of air, nine if we push it, but we could split up - cover twice the real estate in half the time," Sam offered, although he knew what Dean's response would be before the words left his lips. He wasn't disappointed.
"Screw that." Dean started walking, finger twitching on the trigger of his gun. "We stick together. I want your sorry ass watching mine while I watch yours."
Sam grinned. "Keep saying stuff like that and you'll get the miners talking."
"Shut up." Dean shot a glare over his shoulder. "Just keep your eyes peeled. The faster we see daylight, the happier I'll be."
After almost three hours, they'd covered just under half the mine. They were dirty, sweaty, and frustrated but had still seen no sign of the spirits, or their remains.
Sam checked his gas detector, then, seeing the levels were in the safe zone, pulled off his helmet, shoved up his mask and took a long drink from a bottle of water he'd snagged from his duffel. "Last time they came after us pretty damn quick, now they're no shows? What gives?"
"We've got more light," Dean glanced down at his air rifle, "and I'm guessing we're the first ones in a long time to shoot 'em with something that stings."
Sam glanced behind him. "Or they could be lying in wait for us somewhere."
Dean snorted. "Thank you, Mary Sunshine. If you- Bingo! Suspect number one, ten o'clock."
Sam's heart started racing as he spun around and followed Dean's directive. But it wasn't a spirit Dean had seen. It was a skeleton slumped against the tunnel wall on their left, small, tattered pieces of cloth that had once been clothes stuck to its bones.
Dean, pulling supplies from his duffel, frowned at his brother. "Dude, get the lead out. Clock's ticking. You take care of Skeletor, I'll take care of the rest."
Sam yanked down his mask and replaced his helmet. "Go to town, demolition man. Just don't blow us up in the process."
The methane gas in the mine made a simple salt and burn impossible. The brothers had considered loading up the bones and hauling them to the surface to burn later but that just gave the spirits more time to wreak havoc, and there was always the risk of leaving a piece, however small, behind.
But a controlled explosion to burn off the methane gave them the perfect cover. Once the bones were salted and soaked in kerosene, Dean could rig a two-stage explosion, the first to ignite the gas and vaporize the bones, the second to bring the tunnel down and seal anything that may survive the explosion inside the mountain for good.
Sam watched Dean set the explosives. "Does it ever scare you, even a little, the stuff we know how to do? How many ways we know to kill things?"
"We know our jobs, Sammy. That's all." Dean pressed a small clump of explosive onto a support beam. "Check in with Gus and then let's move. We've still got two more of these pricks to find."
Almost two hours later and several tunnels over they found the second two skeletons, slumped against opposite walls about ten feet from each other. Again, Sam salted and soaked the remains while Dean rigged the explosives.
As Dean worked, the faceplate of his mask fogged up. He froze momentarily, before realizing sweat, not the spirits' arrival, had caused the problem. "Son of a bitch." He checked the methane detector on his belt; it read in the low range. With that reassurance, he pulled off his mask and helmet, gratefully swiping his arm across his face to wipe away the sweat.
Sam's eyes widened when he saw his brother without his mask. "Dean?"
"Can't see a freaking thing. And when you're working with explosives, that ain't good." Unhindered by the mask, Dean quickly rigged the charges and set the timer. "There. All done."
"Good." Sam checked the gauge for his breathing gear, which registered in the warning zone. "Let's change out the tanks and get the hell outta here." He scanned the tunnel suspiciously as he unclipped the harness. "Why does it feel like not seeing the spirits is bad…very bad?"
"'Cause you're a suspicious bastard. And I taught you everything you know." Dean started to unbuckle the straps holding his air tanks in place but stopped, sniffing the air suspiciously.
Sam hauled his spare tank from his duffel, then frowned when he realized Dean was staring down the tunnel. "What?"
"Hold on." Dean turned his head and sniffed again. "The air here…it smells different."
Sam's frown deepened as he quickly checked his gas detector. "Dude, you know methane's odorless. It's-"
"That's not it." Dean shook his head; they'd lifted their masks a few times over the course of the day to take a drink and the air in the mine had a telltale, musty smell. "The air here…it's fresher.
Sam glanced around. "Maybe we're near a vent."
"Maybe." Dean dropped his near-empty tanks on the ground, then walked to where the tunnel ended in a T-junction. He nodded as he glanced right. "Or it could be that."
"What?" Sam slipped the single, full tank on his back and fastened the straps as he followed Dean. He rounded the corner to see his brother standing in front of a pile of rubble and looking up. Part of the mountain had collapsed into the tunnel, creating an opening to the outside high above them. A small patch of bright sunlight pushed its way through the breach into the mine, offering a welcome respite from the endless sea of black they'd spent the day in.
Dean squinted up at the breach. "One question, though. If the spirits can't stand the light, how are they wandering around up there? I mean, that sunlight hurts my eyes right now and we've been down here less than a day."
As if in answer to his question, the light from above dimmed as a cloud passed over the sun.
Sam shrugged. "I'll bet that if we got hold of the weather reports from the days the four men were killed, the words 'heavy cloud cover' would be in them somewhere. And if the spirits stuck to the shadows…" He reached into his duffel. "Anyway, let's make sure there are no more field trips before we get a chance to blow this place up."
Dean watched as his brother laid down a thick line of salt across the tunnel, along each wall and in front of the pile of rubble, sealing off the "escape hatch" from the spirits. "Part of me says you're being overly anal about this but given what these bastards have done, go for it."
As he poured the salt, Sam's stomach roiled when he thought about how long the miners had been trapped in the original cave-in, what they'd had to endure. And then, against all odds, they'd escaped, only to be shunned by those they'd once called family and friends. He closed his eyes as his stomach did another somersault.
"Dude, if you're gonna puke, take your mask off first."
Dean's jibe pulled him back to the present. "I'm fine." Sam dropped the salt canister back into his duffel and rolled his eyes at Dean's disbelieving expression. "Just change your damn tank so we can go."
"Roger that." Dean made short work of hooking up the fresh tank, then slung his duffel over his shoulder and quickly slid his mask and helmet back into place. "After you, Sammy. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner I can flip the switch and get rid of these bastards for good."
"Amen to that." Sam glanced around suspiciously.
"What?"
"It's like I said before, the spirits, they're too damn quiet." Sam shook his head. "I don't like it."
"That makes two of us." Dean's grip tightened on his rifle as he glanced back at the rubble pile, then up at the breach. "Wanna try this exit." He tilted his head up. "It's, what? A twenty-five, thirty-foot climb?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah. That's three stories of unstable rubble. And we have no climbing gear and no freaking clue where it comes out." He pulled the map of the mine from his pocket and dragged his finger in a double-dogleg up the middle. "We covered a lot more ground to get here than we need to get back. We go this way, it should get us back to the Swancott mine in about thirty minutes."
Dean again glanced up at the tempting quick exit but slowly shook his head. "If we'd brought the rope…maybe. But yeah, we go through the tunnels." He turned to Sam and raised his rifle. "Double-time?"
Sam nodded and the brothers set off at a jog. They weren't exactly speedy given all the gear they were wearing but had covered about a third of their route when Sam turned a corner and skidded to a halt. Dean almost ran into him, but quickly saw the reason his brother had slammed on the brakes. Ahead of them, just within the reach of their helmet lamps, the three spirits stood shoulder-to-shoulder, blocking the tunnel.
"Son of a…." Dean's focus stayed locked on the spirits as he gripped the air rifle in frustration, cursing the weapon's limited range.
Sam had edged a little closer to Dean, their shoulders almost bumping. "They're gonna have to move. As soon as our lights hit them-"
"Then what's their game?" Dean's finger twitched on the trigger. "They're up to something."
"Yeah, but what?"
"Only one way to find out." Dean raised his rifle and stalked forward. Sam quickly fell in step beside him.
As the brothers began moving, two of the spirits each stepped forward and raised their arms, for the first time revealing large, well-used pickaxes, and swung them with practised ease at the old wooden railroad ties that shored up the tunnel walls.
Sam and Dean lifted their rifles and fired, the two axe-wielding spirits now in range, and the ghosts dissipated as the shots found their mark, but not before their axes slammed into the tunnel supports. Dust began to rain down from the ceiling, the sound of splintering wood slowly replaced by a thunderous rumble. As Dean shifted his aim and blasted the third spirit, the two beams cleaved by the axes toppled into the tunnel. By the time the ghost vanished, still smiling coldly as he disappeared, the shower of dirt and dust tumbling into the mine had become an avalanche.
It was a domino effect. Wall and ceiling beams fell, pulling with them rocks and dirt which, in turn, pulled down more beams, rapidly filling in the tunnel.
Sam and Dean were already moving backwards, away from the advancing debris, when there was a sickening crack right above them. Instinctively, Sam spun to his left and shoved Dean out of the way just as the tinder dry roof truss gave way, dumping timber, rocks and dirt onto Sam.
The rumble of the tunnel collapse died out as quickly as it began, but it left a sea of debris in its wake and the brothers buried in the midst of it.
xxxXXXxxx
Dean jolted awake and scowled at his hazy vision as he forced open his eyes. It took a moment for his brain to catch up and realize the problem wasn't with his eyes but with the thick layer of dust that coated the breathing mask covering his face.
"Son of a bitch." He was lying on his stomach, the side of his face pressed into the ground. He swiped a hand over his mask and glanced around as he frantically tried to piece together why he felt like he'd been through the spin cycle in one of those industrial washing machines at the laundromat.
Mine. Spirits. Cave-in.
"Damn it to hell." He coughed, his voice rough. "Sammy, you good?" He stilled when there was no response. "Sam?"
When there was still no answer, he tried to push himself up but a heavy weight on his back pinned him in place. His head snapped around and his struggles intensified, ready to fight whoever was holding him down, but there was no one there. The lamp from his helmet, sitting upside down beside him on the ground, lit up a splintered railroad tie that lay across his legs and back, each end buried in a pile of rubble. Dean reached behind him, grunting at the awkward angle, and gave it a shove. It shifted only a little, but it was enough that he suddenly had room to move his legs and drag himself slowly forward and out from under the beam. "Sam? Answer me, damn it. How you doing?"
He rolled over and sat up with a groan, grabbing his helmet and placing it back on his head. Dean wiped more dirt from his mask, then used the helmet lamp to scan the pitch-black mine tunnel. He froze when he saw the pile of rubble in front of him-and his brother buried in the middle of it.
Only Sam's head and arm were visible, his head hanging forward, his face hidden behind his mask and a curtain of dust-covered hair. The bright orange of his coverall sleeve stood out in stark relief against the browns and grays of the debris. His helmet had also been knocked from his head and sat upside down at the base of the rubble pile. A large rock had landed inside it, tilting it upward so the beam of the helmet lamp hit Sam squarely in the face in a kind of macabre spotlight.
"Sammy?" Dean scrambled to his feet and stumbled over the debris-strewn floor to get to his brother. His stomach churned, his heart trying to punch its way out of his chest because…because Sam looked dead.
Dean sank down onto the rubble and pressed his fingers against Sam's carotid artery. His brother's skin was cool but not cold to the touch, and beneath it a pulse beat steadily. But any relief he felt from that discovery was tempered by the fact that Sam was still unconscious and trapped under a ton of rubble. Dean carefully tilted up his brother's head; his stomach lurched when he saw that Sam's mask had taken a blow in the cave-in, the spider web of cracks making the Plexiglas opaque. He gently pulled off the mask to find Sam's eyes closed and the gash on his temple from their earlier clash with the spirits reopened, sending fresh blood running down his nose and cheek.
Practised hands quickly triaged Sam. Dean grimaced when he found a large lump on the back of his brother's skull, the hair covering it sticky with blood. "Damn it, Sammy. You're a mess." He cursed again when he went to replace the oxygen mask and discovered the tube connecting the mask to the air tank on Sam's back had been severed.
A quick glance at his gas detector told Dean methane was present but levels were low. Dean pulled off his own helmet and mask and quickly secured the mask onto Sam before shrugging off the harness holding his air cylinder and wedging it in the rocks at his brother's side."
Unencumbered by the breathing gear, Dean moved more easily as he tackled the bigger problem of getting Sam free. He first pulled smaller rocks away from his brother, then tried to lift the broken beam than ran diagonally across Sam's chest from left shoulder to waist. It wouldn't budge. Dean changed angles and tried again but there was still no give.
"Son of a bitch." Dean spat out dirt and dust he'd inhaled, then scrambled up the rubble pile beside Sam, sat down, and wedged both feet against the beam, grunting loudly as he pushed. The support stayed stubbornly in place.
Dean studied the beam as he caught his breath. Both ends seemed to be trapped under large, heavy pieces of rock that rested on smaller pieces of rubble. The problem was that if he pulled out the smaller pieces and the larger boulders dropped, the beam would drop, too, likely crushing Sam. He scrubbed a hand down his face: he needed something to lever up the beam and keep it supported and off Sam while he worked the rocks loose.
Dean shivered as a blast of cold air blew through the tunnel, his skin pebbling with goose bumps. He glanced around, immediately on edge. "I think our friends are back, Sammy." He rechecked Sam's pulse-it was still steady-pushed himself to his feet, then scanned the tunnel again, this time spotting the strap of his duffel sticking out from under a pile of dirt. "What say we spook-proof this place while I dig you out, huh? Last thing we need is those bastards sneaking up on us."
He crossed quickly to his duffel, unzipped it and pulled out the lantern. He flipped the switch and exhaled gratefully when it turned on. Glancing up, he spotted a bent nail protruding from the broken beam above Sam's head, and stretched up to hang the lantern from it, the light pooling around his brother.
He then grabbed a canister of salt and laid down a thick line across the open tunnel behind them, along each of the walls and around Sam. As he poured the salt, Dean flipped the switch on his radio to transmit to the surface. "Mayday, mayday. We have a cave-in in the old mine with a man trapped. Please respond." He punched the tunnel wall in frustration when the only reply was static. He tried again. "I repeat, we have a cave-in in the old mine with a man trapped. We need rescue personnel and medical assistance. Access from Swancott is cut off but there's a surface breach about two klicks east of our location. You can enter the mine there. Respond, damn it."
Again, there was nothing but static. "Son of a bitch. Gus, I'm holding you to your word. We're way overdue for a check-in so I hope you're cursing a blue streak at us right now. And rallying the cavalry."
As he glanced down, a pair of unfocused hazel eyes stared back at him from behind the facemask. "Hey, 'bout time you woke up."
Sam blinked slowly, screwing up his face as he lifted his head. "Ow."
Dean winced in sympathy as he dropped beside Sam and reached into their duffel. "Ow, huh? Given the circumstances, I was expecting something with at least four letters."
"What-?" Sam coughed as he glanced around, his eyes widening as the fog of unconsciousness cleared. "What the-?" Panic quickly set in as he began pushing desperately at the beam across his chest. "Dean, get me out. Get this off-"
"Hey, hey, hey…." Dean grabbed Sam's hand and trapped it inside his fist. "Calm down." He waited 'til his brother looked up at him, eyes wide. "Dude, you're stuck pretty good. You freaking out's not gonna help matters. Now chill. I'll get you out. You've got my word on that."
Sam stared at Dean for a long moment, then closed his eyes, nodded, and swallowed, willing himself to calm down. His eyes stayed closed until his rapid breathing had slowed to almost normal. He coughed, then opened his eyes to find Dean holding a bottle of water in front of him.
Mindful of the reopened cut, Dean slid Sam's mask onto the top of his head. "Drink some of this, but take it slow."
Sam nodded, taking the bottle and swallowing a small mouthful. "How long…how long was I out?"
Dean shook his head. "Not long. Just enough for me to light up this place and lay down some salt, make sure our friends don't crash the rescue party."
Sam was studying Dean, now. "What about you? Y'okay?"
"M'fine, thanks to you shoving me out of the way." Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam. "'Course, I'd be more impressed if you'd got your own sorry ass clear at the same time."
Sam snorted softly. "Me too. You call for help?"
Dean nodded. "Made a 911 call on the radio but dunno whether it got through." He turned back to Sam and pulled his brother's breathing mask back into place. "Now talk to me. I need a self-diagnostic."
"Dude, I'm not a car." Sam frowned at Dean. "And where's your mask?"
Dean grinned. "On your face." He pointed to the smashed mask on the tunnel floor at the base of the rubble pile. "Yours was K.I.A. Gave its life to save your ugly mug."
Sam ignored the jibe, his worried expression deepening as he stared at the smashed mask. "You need one…the gas."
"Relax." Dean tapped the gas detector on his belt as he began picking up pieces of debris in search of one that would help free Sam. "Barely any gas here. I'm fine. Now don't change the subject. Most of you's hidden from me. I need to know if anything feels…off."
"Head hurts…little hard to breathe…can't move." Sam winced behind the mask. "Other than that, I'm awesome."
Dean frowned. "What about your left arm? Your legs?"
Sam sighed. "Arm feels kinda pinched, like it's in a vise."
"Can you move your fingers?"
Sam closed his eyes. "A little." He bit his lip as his eyes slid open and he looked up at Dean. "Legs are kinda numb."
Dean swallowed against a wave of nausea and quickly schooled his features. "Try moving your toes." He waited expectantly. "Well? Can you?"
"Yeah." Sam gave a terse nod. "Hurts, but yeah."
"Hurting's good." Dean's internal panic dropped a notch at that piece of information. "That means the spark plugs are still firing and the wiring's intact."
Sam winced again as he tried to move. "Look, just so we're clear, you get me out of this mess, I want a doctor, not a mechanic."
Dean grinned. "Look at that, snark's intact, too. Another good sign."
Sam glanced around. "The spirits. You seen 'em since…since this happened?"
Dean shook his head. "Not since I came to."
Sam looked up at Dean. "I think I know why they haven't attacked us."
Dean raised an eyebrow as he dragged a broken beam toward Sam. "They dropped half the mountain on you, Sammy. I think that qualifies as an attack."
"I mean like the others." Sam watched as Dean wedged the piece of wood under the beam lying across his chest. "I think this is what they had in mind. To trap us in here, let us starve to death…slowly go crazy. Just like they did."
Dean snorted. "Well, screw that plan. We're both getting out and when you're patched up, and their bones are torched, we're getting a six-pack and a dozen of Molly's honeybuns-each-to celebrate." Anger twisted his gut as he looked down at his trapped brother. "And after what they did to you, I'm not gonna feel guilty about stuffing my face. Not even a little bit."
Sam shot a look down the tunnel then turned to Dean. "You need to go."
"Shut up." Dean rammed another broken beam under the piece of wood trapping Sam. "We'll both go, just as soon as I get you out."
"No, Dean. Now." Sam kept his voice low. "Those spirits worked this mine and they've been here a long time. They know all its weak points. Right now, you can still get out." He was wheezing audibly. "Backtrack to that tunnel collapse that opens to the surface and climb out. If you wait, if they bring down another tunnel, then we really will be trapped in here."
"Stop talking. And I told you, we go out together. End of story." Dean nodded, satisfied, as he studied the placement of the supports. "Okay, that should hold up the beam that's pinning you while I move the rocks around. I'll have you free in no time."
Dean coughed, then began pulling out rocks, tossing them behind him as he worked. A smile started to form when he moved one rock and revealed a patch of dirty orange coverall. It was Sam's leg. But the smile disappeared almost instantly at the sound of a rumble from within the debris. Before he could do anything to stop it, the rubble shifted, the beam pinning his brother slid sideways and Sam screamed out in pain.
"Son of a bitch." Dean lifted both hands, suddenly afraid that if he moved another piece he'd further hurt his brother. "Sammy?"
Sam's eyes were still screwed closed but he gave Dean a shaky thumbs up. "M'okay…m'okay."
"Like hell you are." Dean glared at the debris. The wooden braces were still holding; nothing should've moved. There had to be some piece he couldn't see that was acting as a linchpin. "Damn it, I'm sorry. I-"
"Not your fault." Sam's eyes were open now. "But you gotta go, Dean. Now."
Dean's stomach lurched because Sam was right. He was working blind, and just as likely to crush his brother as free him. To get him out safely, they needed more hands, more equipment. "Damn it to hell. I-"
"Dean." Sam waited until Dean turned to him. "You'll get me out. You always save my ass, right." He swallowed. "Here, take this…" Sam grabbed his mask and started to pull it off.
"Whoa, whoa…." Dean stopped him. "You leave that right where it is."
Sam shook his head. "The gas pockets-"
"I'm heading for fresh air," Dean said matter-of-factly as he replaced the mask on Sam's face. "Trail's well-marked. A quick sprint and I'll be in the clear. No worries."
Sam nodded but looked far from convinced. He watched as Dean changed the batteries in the lantern, replaced it on its nail perch, and wedged the lights that had been on his collar and belt into the rocks on either side of Sam. His brother next reloaded his air rifle, then poured water on his bandanna, folded it in half diagonally and tied it over his mouth and nose. He grabbed his gun, gave Sam a two-fingered salute and turned to leave.
"Dean…before you go…." Sam swallowed. "Gimme my gun."
Dean's eyes widened over the bandanna. "Your air rifle's buried."
Sam shook his head. "My real gun, from the duffel. I want it for me, not the spirits. If something goes wrong, and you can't get back, I'm not gonna let those things get me. I'm not gonna waste away down here. Gimme my gun so-"
"No." Dean crouched down in front of Sam. "It won't come to that, Sammy. I promise you." He pulled down the bandanna, cupped his hand at the back of Sam's head and looked him straight in the eye, their faces inches apart. "Just… keep it together. The light'll protect you, and I'll be back with help as soon as I can."
He sat back on his haunches and held up his hand.
Sam grabbed it. "Be careful. That's not an easy climb. You said so yourself."
Dean tapped his fist against Sam's shoulder, then pulled up the bandanna and grabbed his gun. "I was talking about for you. That growth spurt at fifteen really threw off your center of gravity. Me? Like a cat." He stood up and gave a quick nod. "Hang tight. I'll be back before you know it."
With that, Dean turned, sprinted down the tunnel and was gone.
To Chapter 4