Chapter 9 - The Light at the End
I found them a half-mile deeper into the mine. Elena had collapsed against the base of a massive, rusted iron ladder that stretched vertically up a narrow shaft, disappearing into the darkness above. A steady stream of freezing rainwater was pouring down the shaft, soaking them.
"David!" Elena cried, her face illuminating with relief as my flashlight beam caught her. "You're alive."
"He's down," I panted, slinging the shotgun over my shoulder. "Is this the vent shaft?"
"I can feel the wind," Elena nodded, shivering violently. "But I can't climb it. My shoulder... I can't lift my arm."
I looked up the terrifyingly high, rusted ladder. It was a straight vertical climb of at least fifty feet.
"I'll carry the girls," I said firmly. "You just have to focus on climbing with one arm and your legs. I'll be right beneath you. If you slip, I'll catch you."
It was a grueling, terrifying ascent. I tucked Lucy against my chest inside my jacket, zipping it up to hold her tight, and carried Lily on my back, instructing her to wrap her arms around my neck like a monkey.
We climbed inch by inch, the rusted iron rungs groaning under our weight. The rainwater blinded us, making the metal slick and treacherous. Elena whimpered in pain above me with every step, her injured shoulder burning with agony, but she refused to stop. She was a mother fighting for her children's lives.
"Almost there," I yelled over the sound of the wind, my own muscles screaming, threatening to give out under the combined weight of the two children.
Finally, Elena pushed open the heavy wooden grate at the top of the shaft. We crawled out into the freezing mud of a hillside, the storm finally beginning to break, the first pale light of dawn bleeding into the eastern sky.
We had made it to the other side of the mountain.
Below us, completely devoid of traffic in the early morning hours, was State Highway 44.
We stumbled down the embankment, sliding through the wet grass, collapsing onto the wet asphalt of the shoulder. We were battered, bleeding, and covered in mud, but we were alive.
Twenty minutes later, the blinding lights of a state trooper's cruiser cut through the morning mist. I stepped into the middle of the road, waving my arms frantically. The cruiser screeched to a halt, and two bewildered troopers stepped out, drawing their weapons at the sight of a blood-soaked man holding a shotgun.
May you like
"Drop the weapon!" the trooper shouted.
I threw the shotgun onto the asphalt and raised my hands, dropping to my knees. "My name is David Vance. I have federal evidence of human trafficking involving Sheriff Miller of the county over. Call the FBI. Now."
