Luke pressed his shoulder against the cold stone, breathing hard through his nose. His arms were trembling, his palms raw, and the taste of dust clung to the back of his throat. He glanced upward again, squinting at the faint, blurry circle of light above — a ghost of brightness trickling through the darkness. It was impossible to tell how far it really was. It looked close enough, but he had been thinking that for the past ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. Or an hour. There was no way to know.
"Halfway… maybe," he muttered to himself, forcing a shaky laugh. His voice bounced off the narrow walls and came back sounding uncertain. "Yeah. Halfway sounds good. Halfway means I'm not dying down here."
The faint glow of his smartphone, clenched in one hand, painted the wall in a shaky halo of white. The screen flickered again — a soft, stuttering pulse like a dying candle. Luke frowned, squinting at it.
