He joins in, and the two of us ride the crest of a new wave of energy, yelling and gesticulating. The tiny camera remains impassive and inscrutable, but moves up and down, as though it is taking a survey of our surroundings. Or nodding.
He flicks on the torch on the phone and moves it all around the place, illuminating it for the electronic eye. It moves too, following the light.
‘What do you think they’ll do?’ I say, waving my hand in front of that tiny eyeball again. ‘Have they seen us?’
‘I’m sure they have,’ he replies. ‘And I suppose we have to be patient now, and try to stay awake and strong. It’ll be complicated, getting us out – I know we’re both desperate, but it’s better they don’t rush it. They’ll have to survey the ground, use hydraulics, whatever else they need – and they’ll have to do it in a way that doesn’t …’
He pauses, seeming unsure of what words to choose next.
‘Make everything collapse and crush us to death?’ I suggest.
‘That. Yes. All we can do now is wait.’
Chapter 8
We are trapped underground for another four hours, and it is a terrible four hours, even by my current low standards.
I feel so helpless, lying there, aware that while every move up above brings us closer to escape, it could also bring us closer to death. All it would take is one false move. They are clearing space around the stone ledge, which they have hooked up to grapple lines and pulleys, and bit by bit we are emerging back into the surface of the world.
The last hour is especially hard, with voices shouting down at us in Spanish and English, the grinding sound of heavy machinery, the smell of burning, the clouds of dust and displaced earth whooshing around our faces in toxic clouds. We lie there, immobilised, a strange mix of hope and fear.
There are moments of absolute joy. Our first glimpse of the sky above us. Touching fingertips with the gloved hand of a rescuer as he passes down a bottle of water. The sounds of life, of people, of the world.
But there are also the other moments, as they work to safely remove the heavy stone ledge that was our saviour and is now the greatest threat. Moments of absolute terror.
I keep my eyes closed for the last few minutes, my face turned into his chest, his arms wrapped around me. He is murmuring soothing words and stroking my hair, and I have one leg hooked around his hips. We are curled together like a strange double embryo, ready to be reborn into the world.
I open my eyes and look up at his face. He is watching me, smiling. It is almost over.
I say, ‘I can’t wait to get out – but in a very weird way I am going to miss being trapped in a cave with you.’
‘I know what you mean,’ he replies. ‘But don’t worry – I’ll see you in the real world too.’
I nod, and close my eyes again. We’ve given the rescue team our names, and I hope they’ve told my mum, so she can stop having a nervous breakdown. I’ve shouted up questions about Harry, but nobody has answered. I am choosing to believe it is because of the language barrier, not anything more sinister.
‘Get ready!’ yells someone from up above. There is a flurry of falling soil and pulverised brickwork and dust so thick it coats our mouths in grey sludge, and finally, finally, the stone ledge is fully hauled away.
We are exposed, broken and helpless, the whole world above us. The sudden rush of light is dazzling, and for a moment I feel utterly vulnerable.
I shield my eyes and see a small crowd of men peering down on us. They are dressed in jeans and flannels and high-vis vests and hard hats, their faces covered by white masks. I give them a small wave and they break out in cheers and laughter, celebrating with high fives and fist bumps.
It makes me smile, their joy infectious. I can only imagine how hard their work has been.
As my eyes calibrate, I realise we are about six feet under, which is ironic. The men above start to insert metal poles into the sides of the void, presumably stabilising it while they get us out.
It takes a while, between his broken ankle and my broken arm and our chronic state of exhaustion, but eventually, we are free. Strong hands grasp us and pull us upwards, into fresh air and more space than seems humanly possible.
I stand on shaky feet, cradling my arm, and take one moment to let the relief wash over me. He is sitting next to me, his leg extended before him, looking around with the same sense of wonder as me. I put a hand on his shoulder, and he leans his head against it.
‘It’s a beautiful day,’ he says, gazing at the setting sun, at the golden blanket it casts on the hills, at the sky that is caught between shades of blue and purple.
‘The most beautiful ever,’ I reply.
We are surrounded by chaos, by carnage, but for that one moment, we both choose to only see the sunset, and each other.
I am greeted by a nurse, walked slowly to an ambulance, asked to sit on a stretcher. I slump down, wrapped in a tinfoil blanket while they check me over.
I finally look around me, as the sun sinks and artificial lights are switched on, hoisted into the sky on mobile gantries.
