Chapter 3
1165words
[Time: 14:15:33]
[Switching to Jake's chest camera]
The silence at the meeting point is suffocating. Jake checks his watch anxiously, then fiddles with the walkie-talkie again.
"They're twenty minutes late," he tells the camera, his voice bouncing off the tunnel walls. "Mac and Emma should've been back by now."
Sarah clutches her camera, the frame trembling slightly. "Jake, something's wrong. We need to—"
"Five more minutes," Jake cuts her off. "Then we'll go find them."
Those five minutes drag like hours. Occasional sounds from deep in the mine keep them on edge. Every whisper of wind, every shifting pebble makes their hearts pound.
"That's it," Jake finally stands. "We're taking the right tunnel."
[Time: 14:23:47]
[Switch to Sarah's handheld camera]
The right tunnel runs narrower and darker than the main passage. Their flashlight beams dance across rough rock walls, highlighting tiny cracks and damp patches.
"Mac? Emma?" Jake's calls echo through the tunnel, answered only by their own ghostly reverberations.
After about ten minutes, Sarah freezes. "Wait—what's that?"
The camera zooms in on a dark object on the ground. Jake crouches to pick it up, revealing Mac's walkie-talkie, its case dented and screen shattered.
"This isn't right," Jake frowns, turning the device over. "Mac would never abandon this. He's obsessive about his comms gear."
Sarah's breathing quickens, the footage growing shakier. "Jake, the ground."
In the flashlight beam, fresh drag marks cut through the mud, extending from the walkie-talkie deep into the tunnel. The disturbed earth hasn't dried yet.
"Something was dragged," Sarah's voice shakes. "Or someone..."
Jake examines the trail and spots fabric fibers snagged on a jagged rock. Blue fibers—the same color as Emma's jacket.
"Jake, we need to get out," Sarah backs away. "Now. Let's get to the surface, call the cops, let professionals handle this."
"No," Jake's voice hardens. "We can't abandon them. If something happened, every second counts."
"Are you insane?" Sarah's voice jumps an octave. "Look at these marks! Something awful happened here!"
But Jake has already started following the trail. Sarah hesitates, then follows, muttering curses under her breath.
[Time: 14:45:12]
[View switches to Jake's chest camera]
The marks lead them into unfamiliar territory. The passage grows irregular, clearly not a standard mine shaft carved by human hands.
"This isn't on the map," Jake stops to check his device. "We're beyond the charted areas of the mine."
The wall structure has changed too, shifting from blast-marked surfaces to natural rock formations. Around a bend, they discover fresh graffiti.
Large letters in white chalk or lime, more frantic and messier than the break room writings:
"DON'T GO DEEPER"
Below the message, a crude arrow points back the way they came.
"Someone left a warning," Jake examines the writing carefully. "Recently too—the chalk's still fresh."
Sarah aims her camera at the message, her hands trembling badly. "Jake, please, let's turn back. This place is wrong."
Suddenly, a piercing electronic shriek breaks the silence. The EMF detector on Jake's belt flashes red frantically, wailing in alarm.
"What the hell?" He grabs the device. "The readings are off the charts. EMF levels beyond the measurement range."
Sarah notices something else: "Jake, the thermometer."
The digital thermometer shows the temperature plummeting. From 18 degrees Celsius to 12, then 8, and still dropping.
Their breath forms visible clouds in the flashlight beams.
"This shouldn't happen underground," Jake says, bewildered. "Mine temperatures are supposed to be stable."
Then sounds emerge from deep in the passage.
Not the rhythmic tapping from before, but human voices. Multiple speakers overlapping, their words indistinct but their tones unmistakably desperate and terrified.
"Help... trapped..."
"Don't leave us..."
"So cold... so dark..."
The voices come in waves, as if filtering through solid barriers.
Sarah's camera feed fills with static snow, then horizontal color bars. Jake's headlamp begins to flicker erratically.
"All our electronics are going haywire," Jake taps his headlamp. "This kind of interference doesn't happen naturally."
All devices emit one final beep before dying completely. Only their flashlights and headlamps remain, islands of light in the overwhelming darkness.
The voices grow clearer, as if their owners are drawing nearer.
[Time: 16:33:21]
[Sarah's handheld camera, footage severely shaking]
After nearly two hours of searching, they finally find Mac and Emma in a natural cave.
The cave stretches larger than expected, its ceiling lost in darkness. Most disturbing is that this clearly isn't part of the mine—the walls are smooth, adorned with natural stalactites.
Mac and Emma sit in the center, backs against a massive boulder. Their postures are unnatural, completely still, like mannequins.
"Mac! Emma!" Jake rushes toward them. "Are you okay?"
Neither responds. Their eyes are open but vacant, staring at nothing. Their pupils remain abnormally dilated, not reacting even to direct light.
"They're breathing," Sarah points the camera at them, "but..."
Jake waves his hand in front of Mac's face. Nothing. He checks for a pulse—normal, but Mac's skin feels unnaturally cold.
"Emma," Jake gently shakes her shoulder. "Emma, look at me."
Emma suddenly speaks, her voice disturbingly flat, as if coming from miles away:
"They want us to stay."
"What?" Sarah moves closer. "Emma, who? Who wants you to stay?"
"The people who've been here," Emma continues, eyes fixed on nothing, "since 1987. They're lonely. They need the living."
Mac also speaks, his voice just as hollow: "Listen. They're knocking."
He extends a finger, pointing toward the depths of the cave.
Sure enough, rhythmic tapping emerges from the darkness. Not metal on rock, but something duller—like bone or stone striking together.
Tap... Tap... Tap...
A pattern of long and short taps, repeating endlessly.
Jake aims his powerful flashlight into the cave's depths. The beam reveals a horrifying sight: the walls covered with deliberate carvings.
Like desperate messages scratched by fingernails or crude tools.
"DAY 73"
"HUNGRY"
"MOM"
But the most disturbing discovery lies on the cave floor.
Modern items scattered everywhere: watches, wallets, phones, glasses, keys. Not ancient relics—some look practically new.
Jake picks up a smartphone and presses the power button. The screen lights up—23% battery remaining. He swipes to the photo gallery.
The most recent photo shows four young people posing at the mine entrance, dated just three days ago.
"This can't be," Jake's voice shakes. "These people... they were alive three days ago."
Sarah pans to the scattered items, then gasps: "Oh my God, Jake, that's... that's Tommy Harrison's wallet."
"Who's Tommy Harrison?"
"That adventure blogger who vanished two years ago. Cops thought he got lost in the mountains, but they never found him."
"How's that possible? Nobody survives in these mountains for two years without supplies."
The knocking grows louder, more urgent. As if whatever lurks in the darkness senses their presence and grows excited.
Mac and Emma turn their heads in perfect unison, staring directly at Jake and Sarah. Their eyes glint with an unnatural light.
"Don't leave us," Emma says, but the voice isn't hers. "Stay. Become part of us."
Mac nods. "It's safe here. Warm. We have friends here."
