Raven's Will

2. Hello Again

He worked frantically, jamming bloodied fingers into the rubble again and again. Slivers of pain jabbed up his arms from his broken nails, but he paid little care. He threw all his strength into his task, grasping chunks of rock and concrete and yanking them free. The loose pieces he freed were tossed over a shoulder.

His headlamp flickered weakly, dimming as its battery nearly gave up. There was barely enough light to see what he was doing, and within minutes, there would be no light at all.

Tarrod gritted his teeth, biting back a curse. He was running out of time.

It had been several minutes since the tunnel's ceiling caved in. The tunnels ran for miles beneath Shann Tei, having once formed expansive waterways. They had appeared to have been a perfect hiding place, but Tarrod now regretted it.

When the war machines came and thumped about above, many of the waterways had collapsed, one after the other. A horrible nightmare, in which there was a minimal chance of escape. How many of the Crossfires had been crushed alive? How many of them remained trapped amidst rubble, never to be found?

Tarrod wiped away the sweaty grime from his face, though his efforts only succeeded in smearing blood. I won't let you die here! He leaned forward, and tore into the rubble once more.

What was left of his nails splintered and tore away, and his fingers lost most of their skin. He grunted, refusing to let up. "Leyrone! Leyrone, can you hear me?" He shouted, then strained to listen even as he tossed pieces of concrete behind him. More skittered down from above to take their place.

"Leyrone!" His hands grabbed the loose pieces almost savagely, throwing them out of the way. The light flickered, briefly blinking off as it nearly gave out. For a short second, he was left in utter darkness. Blind. Alone.

Shivering, he froze, goosebumps raising on his skin despite the hot, stuffy air. The sound of his harsh panting filled his ears, unusually loud.

Then his headlamp came back on, weaker than ever. But it was light, and he found himself breathing a sigh of relief. Yet, the goosebumps did not fade. Leyrone was still trapped in the rubble.

What if he's dead?

No. No. That was not an option. He leaned in, placing his face right next to the cold concrete. "Leyrone! C'mon, buddy. . . .if you can hear me, please make some noise. Please. "

His fingers throbbed painfully, seeming to hurt more now that he wasn't using them. He stopped breathing, straining to listen, to hear anything out of the ordinary. Moments stretched on, slipping into minutes and hours and an eternity, all in the space of a mere second as his hope built up and teetered on the edge, waiting. . . .waiting.

And then it came, a faint scratching sound, originating from within the rubble. He pressed closer, heart skipping a beat. "Leyrone? Leyrone! Is that you?"

A faint groan, muffled and weak.

"Leyrone!" Tarrod tore into the pile with renewed strength, blood roaring through his veins. His hands grasped about, grabbing all and any loose rocks and tossing them aside. He was a flurry of frenzied motion, raising dust and raining crumbling concrete all around. And suddenly, he saw twitching fingers, a hand, a wrist, still warm and very much alive.

He reached out, took hold of the wrist with both of his hands, and tugged. The light went out. He blinked in the darkness, pausing for a brief second. The light did not come back on. This was it, then. They were in the dark, now.