Because something was wrong. Iknewit was.
But since I couldn’t explain what, we quickened our pace. I dragged him along as best I could amid my own flagging strength, half-running, half-stumbling through narrow scrims of rock. My chest burned with every breath, and black spots danced at the edge of my vision as I tried to make out what remained of the copper ore symbols the slaves had placed to guide their way—now scattered everywhere—while the pit in my stomach spoke louder and louder, telling me that the somewhere we thought we were going—the same direction Max had been going—was about to turn out to be nowhere at all. And when that happened, it would be too late.
I stopped.
“What’s wrong, Lou? We?—”
“We have to turn back. This was the wrong way.”
“What? But Max said?—”
“The whisper room,” I cut him off. “Whisper.Don’t you see?”
Clearly, he did not. “But Max?—”
“Max didn’t know everything about the mine because his dad didn’ttellhim everything. And one of the things he didn’t tell him was that his panic room was also a breathing room,” I said. “And, if needed?—”
“An escape room,” he finished.
“They built it with an air shaft. I felt it. That’s how the bats were getting in and out. And the slaves knew where it was. I think part of their plan was to destroy it before Max’s dad could get there. Either that, or use it to escape themselves.”
“Shit. If they’d only held out for a few more days, they would have killed him.”
“Yup. Shame, isn’t it?”
“Do you remember the way?”
“This way.” I tugged his wrist, only about 25 percent certain I was right. But soon, things started to look familiar, and I dared to let my heart lift as the passage opened into the dug-out chamber I remembered from before, following the red arrow to the chamber with stalactites dripping from the ceiling like stone icicles. His eyes widened. I knew it now. I was right.
But we almost stumbled into a heap of rubble.
The whisper room was gone.
“We—” The fabric clung to my mouth, gagging me, damp and useless with dirt and dust and tears and sheer terror, my voice hoarse from the gas and smoke from the blast. I was dying already. I’d breathed. I’d held on. I’d believed. I tried. I’d tried so hard for him. “We… we can’t get out…”
“Listen to me,” he cut in sharply, his eyes locked onto mine. “This isn’t the end, not yet. Stay with me, Lou,” he urged. “Yeah? Just keep breathing. Don’t stop.” His eyes darted around us. “Grab that pickaxe.”
We clung to each other, gasping and coughing as we began to claw at the debris. I dug the ax into the rubble, ignoring the rocks falling down, slicing and tearing into my skin like blades. Hejoined me, helping as best as he could, which truthfully wasn’t much. Together, we heaved chunks of rock aside to create an opening barely wide enough.
“You first.”
“I can’t?—”
“You can. You’re stronger. Follow the air. It’ll guide you.”
My heart pounded like a death knell in my chest as I pictured the ten tons of stone overhead that could collapse and bury us alive at any moment. But still, I forced myself to breathe, squaring my shoulders. I dropped to my knees and clawed my way through the tunnel. Rocks scraped my skin raw, and dust rushed into my makeshift gas mask, choking me anew. Tempted for the hundredth time to rip the damn thing off, I resisted, knowing it would make itharderto breathe, not easier.
“Lou!” he croaked behind me, his labored breathing bouncing off every rock. The shaft sloped upward, barely wide enough for us to slide through on our bellies. I turned to see him dragging forward, face contorted in pain. The rocks had reopened his wounds, and blood now dripped from his head and torso, leaving a gruesome trail behind him.
“I—I can’t breathe,” I cried. “It’s—it’s too?—”
“Yes, you can.”
“I’m tired,” I said, slumping against the stone, and all at once, I felt it. Knew it was true. I was more tired than I’d ever been in my entire life.
“Me too, but I’m not letting you give up. Not yet. I promise. Just keep breathing. We’re almost there, Lou.”
“How do you know?” I demanded between gasps.
