It was his salvation.His escape.
He could climb out alone, get help, and bring equipment—ropes, pulleys, medics.
But how long would that take?An hour to climb up?Another hour to get rescue equipment and personnel back here?
If the storm picked up again, the water could reach them before he could get back.
Noah stared up the shaft and calculated odds.
He had one flare in his pack—the aerial kind, meant to be seen for miles.If he could get high enough in this shaft, he could send it up.
Someone might see it—Teague, Liam, a passing ranger.Anyone.
It was a long shot.The rain would reduce visibility.The flare might get caught in the shaft.Burn out against wet rock.Or worse—start a fire in the brush above.
But it might be their only hope.
Noah tested the first handhold and pulled himself up.The rock was wet from rain seeping down through the cracks.Every grip was precarious.He climbed slowly and methodically.His muscles burned as he worked his way up the steep angle.
Ten feet up, there was a side shaft with a wide opening that angled down into complete darkness.He had to be careful of that descending.
Twenty feet.Thirty.
The shaft narrowed slightly and forced him to wedge his body between the walls.He used opposing pressure to keep from sliding back down.
Forty feet.
His arms were shaking now.His fingers were cramping.But the opening above was brighter, the gray light stronger.He could smell fresh air mixed with rain.
Fifty feet.Nearly there.
The rock seemed to smooth out with no handhold in sight.And he could climb no farther with his muscles giving out.
But he could see sky now—gray and heavy with storm clouds.But sky, nonetheless.Freedom.
Maybe thirty feet more.So close.
Noah found a secure position where he wouldn’t slide.
He pulled the flare from his pack, his hands trembling with fatigue.
One shot.
That’s all he had.
He pulled the cap, aimed toward the gray patch above, and yanked the trigger hard.The flare shot with a hiss and a spray of red sparks.It trailed smoke that stung his eyes.
Noah watched it arc up and out and break free of the shaft opening.For three seconds, maybe four, it hung in the air—a brilliant red star against the gray sky.Then it dropped from view and disappeared into the rain and mist.
Had anyone seen it?
Noah had no way to know.
He started working his way back down, his body protesting and exhaustion making every movement clumsy.About fifteen feet from the bottom, his boots slipped on a wet ledge.
He scrambled for purchase.His fingers scraped rock but found nothing.
His foot shot out from under him.Noah fell and slid down the shaft uncontrolled.His hands clawed at the walls for a lip or an edge—anything—as he slid toward the dark offshoot, but they came up empty and he slid down into darkness.The new tunnel took a sharp turn, and he slammed into a narrow section where the shaft kinked slightly left.His leg wedged between two rocks with a sickening crunch.Pain exploded through his shin, white-hot and blinding.
