Chapter 2
1060words
[Time: 07:34:22]
Morning light cuts through the camp's thin mist. Sarah holds a handheld camera, filming her teammates as they pack up their gear.
"Morning, everyone. It's seven-thirty, and we're about to head into Blackwood." Her voice rings clear in the morning stillness.
The camera sweeps over Mac, who's meticulously checking his electronic arsenal. Thermal imagers, EMF detectors, digital recorders—he calibrates each one with precision.
"Signal looking good?" Jake asks through a mouthful of energy bar.
Mac scowls at his phone. "Weird. Had two bars last night, now nothing." He shakes the device. "Must be the mountains blocking it."
Emma perches on a folding chair, poring over a notebook filled with handwritten notes. Sunlight glints off her blonde hair, but her expression is somber.
"What's Emma digging into?" Sarah aims the camera her way.
"Local legends," Emma looks up, adjusting her glasses. "I reached out to some locals last night. They all mentioned the same things—'knocking sounds' and 'echoes.'"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jake stops mid-chew.
"After the '87 accident, rescue teams reported hearing rhythmic knocking sounds—like someone tapping for help. But when they followed the sounds... nothing." Emma's voice drops. "Even weirder, the echoes of their own voices in the tunnels... they lasted way too long."
Real-time viewer comments pop up in the bottom right corner:
[Viewer1892: OMG! You're actually going in?]
[AdventureFan007: Be careful, guys!]
[ScientificSkeptic: There must be a reasonable explanation]
[GhostHunter23: I have a bad feeling about this...]
Sarah notices the comments. "Looks like our viewers are pumped. Don't worry, we'll be careful."
[Time: 08:15:47]
[Switch to Jake's chest camera]
The mine entrance looms before them—a dark maw framed by rusted steel beams. Evidence of concrete sealing is clear, but someone has dug a hole in the center, just large enough for a person to squeeze through.
"Well, someone mentioned this place mysteriously reopens itself." Jake's voice sounds muffled behind his mask. "Guess the rumors were right."
His flashlight beam slices through the darkness. The shaft slopes downward, rough rock walls on both sides, cobwebs dangling from support beams.
"Test, test." Mac speaks into his walkie-talkie. "Channel three, stay in contact."
They enter the mine in single file. Their footsteps echo in the narrow passage, each sound amplified, creating eerie reverberations deep in the shaft.
"Watch it," Sarah warns, her light revealing scattered debris and rusted rails. "These tracks are ancient."
Mac halts, checking his device. "EMF normal, temperature 18 Celsius, humidity 72%." He pauses. "But the acoustics are definitely weird. You hear that?"
Everyone freezes. As their footsteps fade, the silence becomes almost physical. But listening closely, there's a faint... echo, as if their voices keep traveling deep into the tunnel.
"Probably just the mine's structure," Jake says, though he doesn't sound convinced.
Moving forward, they spot a faded metal sign with red lettering: "Danger Zone—November 15, 1987 Accident Site—No Entry."
Emma shines her light on the sign, her voice shaking. "This is it. The last place those twelve miners were ever seen."
[Time: 10:47:14]
[Switch to Sarah's handheld camera]
Suddenly, the lens catches a faint light flickering in the distance—blinking on and off, like a signal.
"Wait," Sarah whispers, "Did you see that?"
Everyone freezes, flashlights swinging toward the spot. Darkness swallows everything again.
Then they hear it.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Faint but unmistakable metallic tapping from deep within the shaft.
"Probably just loose metal shifting in the draft," Jake says, trying to sound calm. "These old mines are full of abandoned equipment."
But the sound is rhythmic—three short, three long, three short.
Mac's eyes widen. "That's Morse code."
"What?" Emma barely whispers.
"SOS," Mac says gravely. "That's a distress signal."
The four exchange glances, flashlight beams crossing in the darkness.
The tapping stops.
Only their quick breathing and distant, unsettling echoes remain.
[Time: 11:23:09]
"Let's split up," Jake finally breaks the silence. "Cover more ground. Mac, you and Emma take that smaller passage on the right. Sarah and I will stick to the main tunnel."
"I don't think that's a good idea..." Sarah starts.
"We've got walkie-talkies," Jake cuts her off. "Check in every ten minutes. Anything weird happens, come straight back here."
Mac checks his gear. "Comms set. Watch yourselves, guys."
[Switch to Jake's chest camera]
The main passage is wider than expected, but with a low ceiling that forces them to stoop as they walk. Blast marks and drill holes pockmark the walls.
"This must be the main mining area," Sarah explains as they walk. "Look at these massive support beams."
Ten minutes later, they enter a larger space—a miners' break room. Wooden tables and chairs, though weathered, stand intact. Items litter the tables: a rusted lunch box, scraps of paper, a newspaper.
Jake picks up the newspaper, shining his light on the date. "November 14, 1987. Day before the accident."
Sarah swings the camera toward the wall. "Jake, look!"
Several lines of text are scrawled on the wall in coal or charcoal, the handwriting messy but readable:
"THEY'RE STILL HERE"
"DAY 3 - NO WAY OUT"
"DON'T TRUST THE LIGHTS"
Jake tries the radio: "Mac, Emma, you copy?"
Only harsh static and electrical crackling answer him.
"Signal's jammed," Jake frowns. "Let's get back to the meeting point."
[Time: 11:31:55]
[Switching to Mac's chest camera]
The smaller shaft is barely wide enough for one person. Mac leads, sweeping his thermal imager ahead as they walk.
"The air feels weird," Emma says from behind. "Like there's ventilation, but according to the blueprints, this should be a dead end."
Mac stops abruptly. "Emma, check the ground."
His light reveals the dirt floor. Beside their own tracks is another set of footprints—large boot prints that look freshly made.
"Those aren't ours," Emma's voice quavers. "We came from a different direction."
Mac raises the thermal imager. The screen shows a moving heat signature about twenty meters ahead—a human shape retreating from them.
"Someone's up there," Mac whispers. "Normal body temp, but moving away."
They quicken their pace, trying to catch up. The tunnel bends left, but when they round the corner, the passage ahead is empty.
Then a voice echoes from deeper inside.
Faint, desperate, reverberating:
"Help... anybody there? Help me..."
Mac and Emma exchange glances, fear flashing between them.
Emma swallows hard. "How could anyone else be down here?"
"Help..." the voice calls again, clearer now. "I'm trapped... please help me..."
