“Ouch, you're stepping on my arm!” Jordane exclaimed.
“Wait...” Raphaël responded.
Jordane felt him moving around erratically, stepping on her foot at one point and elbowing her in the ribs at another. It was pitch black, and she had a mouthful of dirt. She groped around in the darkness, crouching and feeling Raphaël fidget, but there seemed to be nothing around them. Raising her head, she could make out a faint light, probably daylight. The hole was far but not directly above them, leading her to deduce that they had slid down an underground slope.
“But wait, underground means...”
“Watch your eyes,” she heard, followed by a faint, rectangular white glow weakly illuminating Raphaël's ghostly face, then a blinding flash that pierced her brain.
“Oops, sorry Jo,” Raphaël said as she cried out in surprise, shielding her face. He stood up, lifting the phone to his height. Jordane coughed out the last bits of dirt from her tongue, and as her eyes adjusted to the harsh light, she discovered they were in a long corridor of blackened, irregular rock. The floor was strewn with pebbles and covered in dust. While they occasionally heard fine dirt sliding from the hole they had opened, no sound came from the corridor ahead, the darkness even swallowing Raphaël's flashlight beam. Two lines of rails emerged from the shadows to their feet before getting lost under the pile of dirt they had just collapsed.
“Jo, do you think this is it? Are we really here?”
“Yes, no doubt,” she replied.
“Damn, what are we going to do?” he lamented, looking at the faint light far above them.
Jordane attempted to climb the steep slope that had brought them there: she placed a foot on the pile, which immediately sank into the fine dirt up to her ankle. She felt her shoe fill up and grimaced without saying a word. Then she tried to find a grip higher up with her hands, but the wall crumbled instantly under the pressure of her fingers, showering her face with dirt. She tried again with her other hand, but a dislodged stone hit her in the face, scratching her temple.
“Damn it!” she cursed inwardly.
“Are you okay?” Raphaël worried.
“Yes,” she reassured him, hiding her fear, “but we can't get out this way. We need to find another exit.”
“You mean venture in there?” he panicked, gesturing to the underground corridor with his phone.
“If you have another idea, I'm all ears.”
Raphaël sighed, visibly pondering a solution while frantically looking around. He tested the friable rock of the wall with a hesitant hand, but the earth crumbled like sand between his fingers. He tried calling for help again with his phone, but even the operator signal seemed unwilling to venture into this hell. He kicked the wall in a fit of rage, only to cry out in pain, before giving up.
“No,” he finally said reluctantly, “I don't see what else we can do.”
“Right,” Jordane concluded, regaining her composure as well. “Then we'll have to be brave and go in there. We'll find something to help us.”
“Plus,” she added, trying to sound light-hearted, “it'll make a great paragraph in my article if we make it out alive.”
Raphaël chuckled, then ventured into the tunnel, lighting the way, alternating between their feet to avoid tripping over the rails that showed them the way, winding through the gallery, and the ceiling to avoid hitting his head – he didn't have to duck, but a beam could well hit his skull and knock him out if he wasn't careful.
“Let's go then,” he said as Jordane followed, biting her lip in the darkness.
The air, which had been relatively fresh up to now, became heavier with each step: it was warmer, and they started to struggle to breathe. A earthy taste invaded their mouths with each inhalation. The corridor seemed to stretch straight ahead indefinitely, and only the sporadic wooden structures supporting the weight of the forest above them indicated they were actually moving somewhere. Raphaël's phone flashlight only illuminated the first meter in front of them, focused on his feet to avoid tripping, but an occasional beam of light ahead only showed the same scene of the longitudinal corridor for the first twenty meters before the light lost the battle against the absolute darkness surrounding them. Jordane had asked her friend how much battery he had left, to which he replied they had enough for one last selfie together before dying of thirst, and she nodded in silence, even though no one could see her. She chose not to tell him she had forgotten to charge her phone and that the battery was dangerously close to red.
“Look at that,” Raphaël said in front of her, shining the light straight ahead.
She looked up and tried to make out something, but she saw nothing but void. He swept the light in an arc, and this time she briefly caught a slight reflection bouncing back from the darkness.
“There's something up ahead,” he continued.
Jordane agreed: it was almost imperceptible, but something had shone far in front of them.
“Do you want to go there?” he whispered, praying for a negative answer, in vain:
“Guess?”
He let out a long sigh. He realized his legs had started to tremble, and a sort of claustrophobia was slowly overtaking him. He was seized by an almost uncontrollable impulse to flee. To run to the place where they had fallen, and scratch, hammer, and cling to the wall until they managed to climb up. He felt like saying “screw this” to the whole situation, going home, hiding under a duvet, and staying there until the next day. A cold wave ran down his spine, and for a moment, he thought the ceiling had lowered, the walls had closed in: he almost felt the friable rock scratching his hair and had to lean on the rocky wall with his free hand to keep from falling. What had he gotten himself into?
His breathing becoming labored, he began to unlock his phone again: was there a chance the network had returned? He stared at the barred antenna icon, hoping to see lines appear underneath, even just one would do; but nothing worked, they were trapped under meters of earth, in the middle of a forest, no waves could find them, no one could save them.
“Hey, you're not getting scared now, are you? I've known you to be braver!” Jordane teased from behind him, taking the phone from his hands to lead the way toward the strange reflection. Raphaël could only let her take the lead, trying to regulate his breathing. When was the last time he felt this scared? They had shared numerous adventures together, boasting experiences in some of the most ill-advised urban explorations. He was accustomed to moving through abandoned places, navigating desolate corridors, waiting in silence for intruders, each rustle of leaves, each sigh of the wind, or creak of a floorboard taking on an astonishing, almost dangerous clarity and proximity. But today, yes, he was scared. This town had enough creepy stories just from reading the articles, but what they had seen at the mine's entrance... Was it possible that the mist they witnessed could seep into the mine's corridors? Would they wander aimlessly, their light dead for hours, until they felt a breath caress their ankles? They wouldn't realize anything until suddenly, their bodies understood they were breathing lethal gas, and pain and panic would eagerly tear through them. Or would they collapse one after the other, noiselessly and without any warning, respecting the forbidden silence that had reigned here for decades?
“Watch where you're stepping.”
Jordane's voice pulled him from his daydreams, now several steps ahead, and the panic of being left alone in the darkness overcame his paralysis. So he caught up with her as best he could, trying not to trip over the wooden planks.
“We're getting close to that shiny thing,” she whispered.
He finally caught up to her, sticking a bit too close for comfort, when he saw the glint catch his eye again: the object was tiny, on the ground, reflecting a slightly golden flash. They weren't far, but too far for the light to penetrate the black curtain obstructing their view. They continued straight ahead, with no indication that they were approaching a possible exit. Jordane now illuminated their feet, the rocky terrain making their passage difficult.
It was she who jumped first, the gray shape suddenly entering their field of vision: she thought it was about to jump at her, but the inanimate object she had found merely contrasted with the scattered stones. Raphaël followed suit, probably not even seeing the old, dust-covered miner's helmet lying upside down on the ground, and bumped into her.
“What is it?” he asked in a high-pitched voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I'm fine,” she replied, her heart still pounding in her chest.
She crouched and slowly picked up the relic: a stream of dust slid off the surface like sand. It was indeed a miner's metal helmet, scratched and rusted, resembling an old colonial explorer's hat. Inside, intertwined leather straps snaked around, and almost nothing remained of the lamp attached to the front, its glass broken and cable torn off.
“That's cool,” she said, restraining the urge to take out her camera and snap a photo.
“Great, a helmet from probably someone dead,” Raphaël retorted behind her, “I think you meant 'creepy.'“
“But no, come on, we shouldn't be negative. This article is practically writing itself...”
She heard him mumbling something like “...her damn article,” but she didn't respond: she thought only of saving her job by coming to this town, but the situation they were in could indeed cost them more than just unemployment benefits...
“You're right,” she said, standing up, “let's get out of here and go home.”
She redirected the phone light ahead of her, and what appeared barely two meters in front of them made her scream.
***
Decades ago, the mine that had allowed the birth and rapid expansion of Duli became its greatest nightmare when it collapsed. More than its natural resources, it had buried about fifty souls who suffocated in conditions no one could comprehend, denying them even the chance to rest with their loved ones, jealously keeping them with it for eternity. The victims fell into oblivion, deemed condemned and inaccessible to the world above: with the entrances sealed, no human could know their fate.
Until this day, when Jordane and Raphaël became the first to discover the remains of an unfortunate worker.
Of his carcass, not much was left: reduced to a skeleton, lying face down, his clothes had rotted and were nearly reduced to tatters. His arms – now thin bones barely visible under the dust and stones – were above his head, as if the last thing he tried to do was crawl.
Jordane approached, mouth agape, Raphaël feigning a gesture to hold her back, but he too was too stunned to do anything but watch: it was the first time she saw a corpse – at least for real, unlike the many crime scene photos she had seen for her research, among other things – and the effect it had on her was the same as when she looked at images online. What instantly differentiated a movie scene from reality: the banality.
In a movie, when a student is gutted by a serial killer, the next scene shows a corpse with very red blood, highlighted and vibrant against the immaculate ground. A too perfect pose, sometimes symmetrical, wounds too clean and neat. But when the body is real, whether seen in a photo or here in reality, the impression it gives is that it is part of the decor. Nothing perfect, nothing exceptional, just a skeleton in an uncomfortable pose, blackened and half-buried in dust, the clothes also rotting, flattened, and the same dark, dull, and dead color as the surroundings. Now that she was in front of it, she finally discovered the object that had attracted them with its reflections: the unfortunate man's skull was crushed, a large hole revealing the now-empty cavity that contained his brain. And attached to the bone, the small thing that now shone brightly under the flashlight, patiently waiting for decades, was finally detached from the fractured skull. Jordane struggled to remove it, using both hands, as it was firmly lodged, and she held it up to her eyes, fascinated.
“Is that what I think it is, Jo?” Raphaël worried behind her.
“Yes,” she said, “no doubt about it.”
“I can't believe it,” he replied, alarmed. “A gold tooth! A damn gold tooth, in his skull!”
Indeed, Jordane thought. Apparently, not all of them had died of hunger, thirst, or suffocation down there. Some had indeed been eaten.
***
The tension had risen somewhat following their macabre discovery: Raphaël had expressed his unwillingness to venture any further into the gallery. The warning was enough for him, and he wanted to return to where they could see at least a bit of sunlight, to the place where they had fallen. He said he would huff and puff all day if necessary, that he would watch his phone, and eventually, they would catch a bit of network, or attract the attention of Ed, or his dog. They would be rescued, and might even make an appearance in the local newspaper for discovering a secret entrance, two poor tourists stumbling upon a sad prehistoric cave. Jordane listened in silence, nodding, standing straight as an arrow in the total darkness; but her mind was elsewhere, cycling through unanswered questions and increasingly nebulous mysteries.
What had really happened in this cave? The tooth so deeply embedded in the back of the skull could only have been left by a bite. Had they killed each other? Perhaps the tension had risen once the miners were trapped under tons of rubble. They might have gone mad, slaughtering each other blindly in the dark. Or perhaps they had survived longer than expected and had begun to devour each other. Maybe this one wasn't even alive when someone sank their teeth into the back of his head. There had been cases of survivors trapped in mountains or at sea, drawing straws to decide who would serve as food for the others, or the dying giving their last words, allowing their companions to feast on their flesh.
“This is my blood, this is my flesh, don't forget the mayonnaise, bon appétit.”
Jordane shuddered: not because of these morbid ideas trotting through her head, but because this biblical reference had appeared unbidden, catching her off guard. She thought she had sealed away certain things, but bad thoughts could apparently remain silent as long as necessary to resurface at the most destabilizing moments. Nevertheless, she put that image aside: even if their situation wasn't ideal – actually quite desperate, though she didn't want to admit it – she remained mostly intrigued by this story. Inès had spoken of a monster-miner trying to devour her, and they had just found evidence of cannibalism here after exploring only a few meters of these infinite galleries. There was surely more to discover here, she felt it: her investigative instinct urged her to continue searching, to learn more about this place. Maybe they had indeed stumbled upon something significant, her mind whispered to her.
“Jo, are you listening?”
She snapped out of her reverie, having momentarily forgotten that she was practically standing with her feet in the ribcage of a poor fellow.
“What?”
“What do you think of my idea?”
“We have to keep going this way,” she replied abruptly. “No one is going to find us. We're on our own, and we have to get out by our own means.”
“But we'll get lost!” he almost pleaded. “If the miners couldn't get out, how are we going to, when we don't even know the place?”
“We'll follow the rails, and we'll find something. There has to be a solution. If you want, we can split up, you stay near the hole calling for help, and I'll follow the rails, to increase our chances.”
She didn't feel like wandering alone in this labyrinthine nightmare at all, and she needed him for support and strength, but it was easier for her to bluff.
“No, I'm not going to leave you alone,” he said after weighing the pros and cons. “You'd manage to get lost in a straight line.”
“Alright,” she concluded, regaining her composure. “Then let's go, as long as we have light.”
She turned the screen back on, her eyes falling on the 54% displayed in the upper right corner, thinking of her own phone which would also only last so long and her professional camera which would allow her to see intermittently, at the pace of the flash of photos she would take every five seconds. They would find their bodies in a hundred years with the last image on the camera's memory card being a monster with atrophied eyes and a missing tooth jumping at the lens, claws out.
They stepped over the corpse as best they could, then walked in silence for a good five minutes, making no other grim encounters – just two long curved turns. From time to time, Raphaël reminded her to check for network, and each time, she only saw that damned barred antenna icon. “We'd surely be warned well enough in advance of having found the network by being overwhelmed with notification requests for messages on your dating app,” she had retorted at one point.
Their conversation had turned to their love lives: since the last time, Raphaël had had two encounters that hadn't led to anything, and Jordane had simply said that it was quiet on her front. Then, she didn't know why, but she thought of the guy she had bumped into the night before, the tall blond.
“Do you feel that?” said Raphaël.
At first, she sniffed insistently: “Not that, you nitwit,” he had said. “Your hands.”
Then she raised her hands, at first wary: after a few seconds, she felt something at her fingertips, like a tickle. She slowly raised her hand above her head, towards the ceiling, and felt it more distinctly: a soft, refreshing caress, barely perceptible.
“Fresh air!” she marveled. Then, without further ceremony, she set off at a brisk pace to find the source of this miracle, leaving Raphaël in the dark, trying to follow without falling.
The stream of air became more pronounced, and each gulp of air she breathed felt like a refreshing shower in summer: with a cloud of hope, it was a delightful sensation; but more than that, she now had the impression of seeing further than before.
“Wait,” she said, stopping.
She turned off the flashlight and remained silent in the darkness despite Raphaël's protests; but gradually, the contours of the corridor began to take shape in front of them. She saw her hands, then her feet. She turned around and even began to see her friend, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth reduced to a simple line under the effect of mistrust.
“Damn, I can see you,” he blurted out.
“Yes, I think there's light somewhere ahead.”
As if given a second wind, they hurried to follow the rails, now able to discern each stone on their path. They passed an antique cart, empty except for the layer of dust accumulated inside, but still resting on its set of rails. They saw more and more clearly, the corridor now almost taking on a bluish color. Jordane was almost running, then she stopped abruptly when the walls parted, and they emerged onto a precipice. This area, although still dim, was a little brighter. One couldn't go so far as to read a book or distinguish colors, but the sight in front of them was clearly visible: it was as if an entire mountain had collapsed on the mine.
A chaos of white rocks up to two meters in circumference had spilled across the gallery, crushing the earth and burying it up to three meters below them. The precipice stretched about ten meters in front of them, then the gallery resumed, partially blocked by other landslides. Perhaps a small child could pass through the gaps in the stones, but not much more. To their right, the tear plunged into the darkness, strewn with debris creating a rugged but packed ground. At the top left, large rocks had remained balanced on each other, offering slightly larger spaces to potentially pass through. And then, it seemed that the source of light was emanating from that place.
“It looks like the collapse started from there,” Jordane pointed out, pointing to the weak source of light at the top left, “then it crushed everything to end up down there.”
She finished her explanation by tracing the axis of the tear, heading downwards to the right of them.
“I don't think we can continue that way,” Raphaël added, pointing to the other end of the gallery in front of them.
“You're right,” she replied, “but look, the light is coming from up there, and I'm sure I can climb it.”
Without waiting any longer, she began to skirt the void by going left, partially clinging to the balanced granite blocks. She managed to reach a flat and secure ledge without falling; although at one point, her foot dislodged a stone that fell below, releasing a cloud of dust and fine soil. The noise it made hitting the bottom could have woken the dead. She was then joined by Raphaël, and they found themselves just below the huge balancing rocks and the ghostly light source, on the side of the hole halfway between the two ends of the gallery. The surface of the granite was smooth and difficult to climb, but she thought that if Raphaël helped her by boosting her, she could reach a more manageable part and climb up to - perhaps - the surface.
“My Rafiki,” she said, “you're going to give me a hand with your powerful muscles, and I'm going to explore up there.”
“Are you sure,” he replied, “it looks dangerous...”
“I know, but there's no other solution. The exit is up there, I can feel it.”
She handed her bag to Raphaël:
“Keep this for me, I'm taking your phone for light.”
“Alright, I guess we're doing this,” he replied.
He positioned himself with his back against the rock and propelled Jordane forward with his arms. She managed to grab hold with both hands and hoisted herself up until she found a balanced position, standing on her feet. She cast a glance downward, first at Raphaël who was two meters below her, then towards the pebble pit a bit further away: it was certain that if she fell, it would be the end. She managed to divert her gaze from the abyss and assessed her options for continuing: above her, there were mostly large, well-settled rocks that offered spaces for her to maneuver through, but someone of Raphaël's size couldn't pass through them. If he couldn't reach her, she would have to go for help, and then manage to find either the hole they had entered through or another exit. Meanwhile, her immediate task was to climb, and she dreaded the possibility of dislodging a rock and causing several tons of pebbles to fall on them, crushing them like pancakes. She noticed a hole big enough for her and relatively easy to reach. She clung to whatever she could to gain height. Her shoes slipped several times on the smooth surface of the limestone. At one point, she dislodged a rock the size of her head, which tumbled down to the bottom with the others, narrowly missing taking Raphaël with it. She clenched her teeth during the dull rumbling sound coming from somewhere above her, then continued her ascent while he moved to a safer spot, towards the entrance of the rest of the gallery blocked by a heap of rocks.
***
Raphaël watched Jordane crawl and snake her way through the massive obstacles, and then saw her disappear for good, leaving him alone in this cavity that could collapse at any moment. He then continued to see the faint dance of daylight, streaks of dirt and dust tumbling down intermittently, and then nothing.
“Jordane!” he ventured to call out, wondering if the mere sound of his voice could trigger a collapse, like what the mountain had begun to spew out during the mine accident, similar to avalanches. From his position, he couldn't guess what lay above them: another tunnel? The surface? Nothing at all? He thought he heard a response, a very faint sound, but couldn't tell if his imagination was playing tricks on him. He called out to Jordane again, a bit louder, and he truly thought he heard something in return, an almost imperceptible echo. He waited a few seconds, but the mine was now perfectly silent. That was a good sign if Jordane hadn't come back yet: at least there was something to explore on the other side.
“Or maybe she's stuck in a narrow passage, and you're both doomed,” another voice in his head suggested, but he forced himself not to listen. Instead, he sat down on the ground, against the pile of rocks blocking the part of the gallery they hadn't explored yet.
“Raphaël!” a voice called out right behind him.
He screamed and spun around, recoiling a step from the wall of stones. There was a hole, barely larger than his hand, leading into the impenetrable darkness of the rest of the mine.
“Raphaël, come look!” the voice called from behind the hole.
“Jordane?” he stammered, still trying to understand what was happening.
“Yes, who else would it be?”
Yes, of course, he thought to himself, it was indeed her voice, but he had just seen her go through to the other side, and he was almost sure he had heard her just a few seconds ago, so how had she already gotten to this side? It wasn't possible.
“How did you get there so quickly?” he asked, crawling cautiously closer.
“What do you mean?” she replied, still invisible. “Everything's connected in this mine.”
Raphaël cautiously approached the hole, but he saw absolutely nothing, as if the darkness had swallowed everything.
“What's on the other side?” he asked.
“I don't know,” she said. Then, when Raphaël thought she wouldn't say anything else, she added, “But I have signal.”
His heart leaped in his chest: if they had a signal, they were saved! They just had to call for help and sit waiting to be rescued. Raphaël promised himself that he would light a candle in church the next day, right after taking a shower and eating a triple steak burger.
“I can't unlock it,” the voice said emotionlessly.
“Give it to me then!” he urged, pressing his head against the rock to try to see her.
Nothing.
He was about to repeat himself when she continued:
“My arm's too short, help me.”
Raphaël complied and plunged his hand into the darkness. He barely fit his arm through, scraping the earth with his sleeves and knocking his knuckles, but he managed. He stretched his arm as far as he could, but felt nothing.
“A little more, you're almost there,” she said.
He changed position and pressed himself completely against the wall, stretching his arm to its full length, trying to grab something with his fingers, but only brushing air.
“Yes, that's it, you're almost there.”
But still nothing.
“Come on, more, give me your arm.”
No, not nothing, a warm, moist breath.
“Your arm, give me your arm.”
“This isn't Jordane...” a voice in his head said.
“No, that's ridiculous.”
He couldn't feel his ear anymore, and his shoulder was in pain.
“Come closer, don't be afraid!”
Then he felt a drop fall into the palm of his hand.
Goosebumps ran over his entire body. His hairs stood on end up to his neck, and he withdrew his hand in one swift motion, falling backward.
“What are you doing?” the voice from the other side called out, still invisible.
Raphaël's heart was racing: it was Jordane's voice, but he didn't recognize it. Something was wrong.
“Come on, you were almost there! We need to get out of here.”
Following his instinct, he picked up the bag Jordane had left him. He pulled out his camera, so disoriented that he took the time to put the strap around his neck in an automatic gesture. He approached the hole, turning it on, and positioned it at face level while keeping just one eye above.
“Are you coming?”
“I'm so hungry...” the pleading voice said.
The click was accompanied by a blinding flash of light that lasted only a moment, but the huge black shape with yellow eyes was imprinted on his retina. He dropped the camera, and at the same moment, a thunderous voice rose from behind the rubble:
“MY EYES!!”
Then he heard a roar so loud that dust fell from the ceiling in several places.
“YOU'VE BLINDED ME, YOU LITTLE SHIT, I'M GOING TO EAT YOU ALIVE!!”
At first, he couldn't do anything, then a deafening scream rose, and the thing with immense mass crashed against the wall with a crash, sending several rocks flying around him. He heard it scratching and pounding like a fury, mixing roars and demented laughter. He felt a jolt throughout his body, and his brain finally kicked in: run. He looked around in panic and saw only one solution: follow Jordane. He leaped and joined the ledge created by a huge rock. He jumped, arms in the air, but failed to grab hold. He turned back to the noise behind him, horrified: already, he saw rocks detaching and rolling toward the abyss. He focused on a nearby rock and tried to pull it to use as a step. Adrenaline gave him strength, and he exerted all his might to move the object, praying to be quick enough before the creature arrived. He managed to place it where he wanted, but now he heard the monster's less muffled vociferations and more rocks tumbling down.
“STOP STRUGGLING AND ACCEPT YOUR FATE, YOU'RE GOING TO RUIN THE TASTE OF THE MEAT!! the monster yelled behind him.”
He climbed onto the makeshift step and used all his strength to jump: he caught a ledge with the tips of his fingers, but the dirt on it made him slip, and he fell straight back down. He looked back, terrified, and that's when he saw the beast halfway out of the rubble: a huge wolf with black fur, crazed eyes, drool dripping between its fangs. The monstrosity was grabbing rocks with its teeth to send them flying and clear a path. Raphaël tried again, certain that if it didn't work, all was lost.
This time, his grip held, and he pulled himself up in one go, adrenaline giving him wings. Once at the top, he allowed himself a look down: the monster was now in the pit, already approaching him. Without taking time to think further, he lunged forward to gain ground. He went through the same place as Jordane, scraping his hands on the sharp holds and his feet slipping on the smooth walls. He squeezed into a tight crevice and crawled desperately to save his skin. Halfway through the chimney, panting and spitting his lungs out, he noticed he no longer heard the monster.
He risked a look back: he was now at least five meters high, in a narrow tunnel, and he could barely see the ground. His foot dangled from the opening by only a few dozen centimeters, and he saw no movement. Silence had returned.
He took the opportunity to take a break, listening in the dark: he tried to catch his breath, but he was so compressed he couldn't fill his lungs and felt suffocated.
“Raphaël, don't go...” his father's voice pleaded below him, and his blood froze in his veins.
***
“Thank goodness I stopped eating chocolate when I was a teenager,” Jordane thought as she wriggled with difficulty along the winding path between the rocks. Although slim, she felt her body slightly stiff, slowing her movements. Nevertheless, she managed to extricate herself from the rubble and immediately sensed she was in a large room by the way her ragged breathing, which had been trapped in her ears during her climb, now seemed to dissipate around her. Then, her gaze rose to the immense elevator cage that was part of the mine's headframe: the remaining standing part of the cage was completely obstructed by rocks, some as large as a car. The lower part had been completely swept away, the base now a carnage of pebbles and twisted, torn metal rods. Pieces of torn wire mesh lay scattered on either side of the room carved into the ground, the rails that once allowed miners to descend to their livelihood even bent. A cart lay on its side a little further away. From the obstructed vertical throat, a thin beam of light traversed, the same one that had caught their attention from below. Somewhere above her head was the surface; but it was impossible to carve any path through, only a rat could possibly pass. Given the immense mass of rock suspended in this cage, it was no wonder the rescuers found no solution to get the miners out of this hell.
“That’s the entrance we saw earlier,” she thought. “We were just on the other side with Ed a few moments ago.”
She stood before the tortured edifice of crumbling limestone and rusted steel with a feeling of extreme helplessness, being so close to the exit yet the obstacle between them so significant. She was so absorbed that she only noticed the man approaching her silently too late. When she turned around, she saw only a shadow pounce on her. She wanted to scream, but a skeletal hand clamped over her mouth: only a muffled sound escaped. She grabbed the wrists of her assailant reflexively and was surprised to grasp forearms so thin that her fingers could easily wrap around them. Nevertheless, the man held firm and did not falter.
“Shh,” he said, “you'll wake him up if you talk so loudly!”
Jordane's eyes widened. She resumed breathing through her nose, and a nauseating smell invaded her head: it was enough for her to refocus, then her gaze returned to the individual.
One might think she was facing a reanimated skeleton, as if the one they had crossed earlier had risen and come to take care of her: the man was just skin and bones, with thin arms and a sunken rib cage. His face was hidden by a long white beard and a layer of black grime, highlighting his prominent cheekbones and wild eyes. He must have been seventy or eighty years old: his body was striated with wrinkles, his posture bent with his head retracted into his shoulders, and his skeletal hands trembled slightly.
Jordane tried again to free herself, but his grip, though trembling, tightened further:
“If I take my hand away, you won't scream?” he whispered.
Jordane shook her head as her only response, having no choice but to comply for the moment.
“Are you sure?” he repeated.
The same head gesture, a small tear shining in the corner of her eye. Then, after what seemed an interminable moment, he nodded and removed his hand. Jordane inhaled a gulp of air, freed from the stench of decay he emanated: he wore simple trousers that had almost completely rotted on his body. She wondered if removing them would bring the skin with them. His hunched back gave him a surly look that contrasted with his thin arms that hung down to his knees. He also wore an old leather satchel across his body. He eyed her warily, like a cat encountering an unknown animal on its territory. She opened her mouth – not even knowing what she was going to say – but he cut her off:
“You... I've seen you before...”
She didn't know what to answer. She was sure she had never seen this man; but at the same time, the state he was in... He could have been her own grandfather and she wouldn't have recognized him.
“When was it?” he whispered more to himself. “Last year? No, I remember it very well. The light... Rather... Last night?”
Her heart sank in her chest when she realized: “The scratching I heard that night, I thought, wasn’t my imagination.”
“The tunnel,” she whispered back.
He recoiled as if she had blasphemed. Or said something insane. He now looked at her with suspicion. She heard Raphaël calling her from below, his voice echoing like a ghostly bell, but she didn't move: she felt that if she turned her back on him for even a second, he would pounce on her; but already he was crouching down, holding his ears, a grimace of pain on his face:
“No, no, no,” he pleaded imperceptibly, “you'll attract it if you make too much noise!”
“Attract what?” Jordane interjected despite herself. But she apparently spoke too loudly because the man was now crouching down, protecting his head from an invisible threat.
“The monster...” he whispered so faintly, in a sigh, that Jordane almost repeated it out loud but held back at the last moment.
She took a step back towards Raphaël, but he already took two steps towards her: she froze, not knowing whether to run or stay.
“Run where, silly girl?” she thought to herself.
***
“Raphaël,” a voice he never thought he would hear again complained, “just because I left doesn't mean you should do the same now.” His eyes widened, and his breathing accelerated even more: first Jordane's voice, and now this.
He realized the rock walls were squeezing him tighter and tighter. Now, he was struggling to even breathe.
“Son,” the voice continued, “come back to your father. It's over now, I've stopped everything. I swear, this time it's for real. It's all behind us...”
Raphaël let out a moan that echoed in the cave. This wasn't possible, he was going mad! He tried to move forward, but now he was completely stuck, the stone walls compressing his abdomen.
“Son! Come back here right now!” his father's voice bellowed. “RIGHT NOW!!”
Then, he felt the monster throw itself against the rock, dislodging earth from everywhere that covered his hair, entering his nose and mouth. The pounding continued, and the trembling intensified: he now heard larger stones rolling around him. He began to panic, and the vice he was in completely crushed him. Each breath became a torment, he could no longer take deep gulps of air, and he felt like he was going to die of suffocation. He couldn't move an inch, his body stuck, with pins and needles in his hands and feet; he could only stare at the faint light above him, until everything went dark.
“Come on, son, I'm sorry! I'll fix everything, it'll be like before! Come down from there, and you can see your mother, she's waiting, and so am I. We'll be together, all three of us, forever.”
Raphaël bit his tongue to avoid screaming, trying to gather his thoughts: focus on his breaths, and empty his mind. The effort required was superhuman, but he forced himself to think only about his lungs, how they expanded and contracted. He didn't think about the lack of air with each breath, the dust falling around him, the roars and laughter echoing everywhere, the world trembling with each thud. Just his breath, as simple as an inhalation, an exhalation; not his father's voice, begging for help. He slowed down gradually, and the tomb of rock around him seemed to loosen its deadly grip at the same rhythm.
The feeling in his fingertips returned bit by bit, and he was even able to move his shoulders. While remaining focused on the emptiness he had created in his mind, he was able to crawl, and this time his body passed through the constriction. He pushed with his leg to climb, but felt something strangling him: that darn camera. He tried to force it, but the strap tightened its grip around his neck. Below, he heard another blow that seemed to tear through the forest, followed by a mad laugh. He twisted and turned: the camera was stuck somewhere near his back and wouldn't budge. He ran a hand along his body and managed to grab the cord with his fingertips. He pulled on it as best he could and managed to shift it after what seemed like an eternity. The pressure around his neck disappeared instantly, and he could move again: he was getting out. He continued, the earth vibrating around him and the monster howling in frustration, and he finally managed to emerge from the chimney to arrive where Jordane had set foot before him.
***
“Since when have you been here?” she asked to buy time, though she already knew the answer to that question.
“I don't know,” he replied, “a few days, a year, or a hundred years, I've lost all sense of time since the collapse.”
“Were you one of the miners trapped during the accident? How is it that...”
“Shh!” he cut her off, suddenly alarmed. “Do you hear that?”
She listened intently but could only hear the pounding of her heart against her temples.
“What?” she asked.
“The voices!” he squeaked. “They're back! You attracted them! We need to hide!”
“What voices?”
He began to panic, fidgeting in place and casting frantic glances in every direction, and Jordane grew increasingly nervous, unsure what to do in the presence of this man who seemed more savage than human.
“What? Don't you know? You must have heard them too if you're here!”
He began to approach her, using his hands to move like a primate. Before she could attempt any defense, they were interrupted by a dull sound and a slight tremble, and before she could react, a hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her with incredible force: she had no choice but to run behind the man who led her deeper into the mine. They followed the rails for several tens of meters, him agile despite his bare feet and bowed legs, her doing her best not to fall, her foot painfully hitting the steel occasionally. She heard the satchel beating against his bony hips in rhythm. Without warning, he pushed her to the left and forced her to climb a rock.
“Quick, here!” he hissed.
She squeezed into the sort of recess as best she could, her head and arms banging against the sharp walls.
“Up and to the left,” he whispered beneath her.
In panic and blindly, she climbed about a meter. She felt something push her buttocks, and she rolled headfirst into a small alcove of earth, a natural hideout no bigger than a prison cell and as dark as a moonless night. She managed to sit down, then the man joined her hurriedly, crouching beside her. He positioned himself between her and the exit, and her survival instinct screamed danger louder and louder.
“What was that?” she whispered, unsure whether to be more worried about the tremor or the man keeping her captive in a hidden recess of the mine.
He remained still, seemingly listening intently. Jordane continued to hear, from a distance, the growling voice, and her heart sank thinking of Raphaël: was he okay? Had something happened to him? The thought of Raphaël in danger prompted her to kneel and head towards the exit to help – what was she going to do? What would she even find? – but the old man blocked her path with his bony arm:
“It's the monster,” he said, “you attracted it here! Didn't you hear the voices?”
He repositioned himself in front of her, and Jordane realized she would have to be very careful if she wanted to get out of this alive, as the man did not seem to be in his right mind. She tried to calm herself and de-escalate the situation:
“Is that what we hear, the voice?” she whispered.
“No,” he replied as if explaining something obvious, “the voices whisper in your ear, they are those of your loved ones, even the deceased. They call out, mock, but when they're around, the monster isn't far. But most importantly, how can you be here? Was it you, the other night behind the grille? I was going to approach, but something blinded me!”
She remembered the flash of her camera, the scratching sounds that seemed to come from the depths of the conduit... She now thought about the legend of Inès, how she was caught by a monster through the grille, a long time ago, under the same tunnel:
“Have you never come out since the mine accident?” she asked, astonished.
“The accident?” he replied bitterly. “Is that what they called it? They left us down here and declared it was a terrible and unforeseeable accident, and then they moved on...”
“Wasn't it an accident?”
Jordane's radar activated again, and for a moment, she almost forgot everything else.
“Then let's get out of here together,” she continued, “and you can tell the whole world what really happened. And you must have family; imagine how happy they would be to see you!”
But his face instantly contorted: his eyes narrowed under his bushy eyebrows, and he bared his few yellowed and broken teeth – two of them were gold, and Jordane noticed immediately.
“Family!” he scoffed. “No one wanted to go down into that mine, but everyone didn't care! I had to put on my helmet every morning to feed my 'family.' While safety standards were just a bad joke, and in the last weeks, others began to talk about voices they heard, just on the other side of a wall or at the bottom of a hole. This mine is haunted, but no one believed us. 'The door is just here if you disagree,' the foreman simply said.
“Damn it,” he continued, “this whole damn town is haunted, even on the prison side things began to emerge, talk of apparitions, of someone watching you in your cell. Yes, I've seen the monster, with my own eyes. It appears when the voices come. But the voices, I haven't heard them for ages, but you two arrived and made so much noise that you woke them up! I was safe, I stayed quiet, but now, because of you, we're all going to die!”
Jordane was dumbfounded: despite speaking as softly as possible, he was panting and sweating after his speech, his entire body rigid. She wondered what he meant about the voices and the monster: had this poor man spent so much time here that he was hearing and seeing things? It was possible, he had been living down here since... No, impossible, for more than thirty years? It couldn't be true, yet the accident...
“What do you mean by 'the mine blew up'?” she asked quickly.
He seemed to struggle to calm himself, and once he did, he sat down in front of her – still in front of the exit, unfortunately. Now she could only see his eyes darting around and the reflection of sweat drops trickling down his skull.
“They said it was an accident, right?”
“Yes.”
“And how long before they forgot about us?”
“Two months, a little less.”
He whistled, apparently impressed or reassured to be able to put a timeframe on his ordeal, having not seen daylight since well before Jordane was born.
“Anyway, they would have only found corpses,” he said. “Except me, I'm the last one.”
He took a deep breath and recounted what had happened on that fateful day:
“It was Jeremy who blew up the mine.
For several months, people had been saying the mine was haunted. Someone digging with a pickaxe fell into a cavity, and through a small hole, he heard his deceased aunt telling him he had always been her favorite nephew, and that she had baked him a cake, and he just had to reach out to get it. Another time, while pushing a coal cart. He reached an intersection, and to his right was a dead-end corridor. He saw it because turning his head illuminated it with his helmet, but there was nothing but a large pile of beams. Yet, he listened to his childhood friend he'd lost touch with since primary school asking him to come see his card collection. He ran away when he saw a shadow move behind the pile of beams, but wasn't sure afterward. The next day, he checked at the civil registry, just like that, and learned his friend had changed schools and died of a tumor two years later. He took his last paycheck and left without a word. He was the smartest among us.
More and more people started hearing voices, it even reached the ears of the management so much that the workers were scared, but they must have thought we were making up stories to get the installation up to safety standards, so they dismissed us. And then there was this guy, Jeremy. He heard his daughter. We tried to act as if we didn't hear the voices when they came, but he answered them. We even caught him talking with them. It was his daughter talking to him, her muffled voice coming from behind the wall. She said she was trapped in a coal vein and asked her father to come and fetch her, to free her. Of course, his daughter had died of tuberculosis last year, but that didn't stop Jeremy from talking to the wall for hours. We tried to get him to stop, someone even offered him a job on his cousin's farm because we thought he was encouraging the voices to speak by responding, but he wouldn't listen. Instead, he stopped talking to us and spent his days kneeling against that wall, talking and listening.
Some of us started cashing our checks and disappearing into the night too, but now I'm not sure they really left here. That they managed to leave the forest.
Anyway, one day, Jeremy took matters into his own hands and wanted to free his daughter. With an entire box of dynamite. I was at the other end with my team, but we felt the explosion, oh yes! We thought we were going to die right then – and it would have been so much better, believe me! But once the dust settled, we started looking for exits only to realize there were none left.”
He put his hand on Jordane's arm, apparently moved to have shared his story for the first time with someone, and perhaps even to have encountered another human being for decades, but she shuddered with disgust at the contact of his moist, leather-tanned skin and withdrew her arm. The man's stomach rumbled with a sinister, guttural noise, but he didn't react.
“How have you survived?” she asked.
“Rainwater manages to seep down here, and I always find something to eat,” he said, avoiding her gaze.
“And you haven't found a way out all this time?”
He shrugged. She heard another rumble from his stomach, which he tried to suppress, then he moved closer to Jordane:
“No, and even if there was one, I can't leave now, I've been here too long. I belong to this mine, until the end.”
He reached for Jordane's hand, but she discreetly buried it between her thighs as if she hadn't noticed: at the same time, she tried to shift closer to the exit.
“If there's a monster here, then my friend is in danger, we have to go get him, and find a way out of here. You know this place, there must be an exit.”
He dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand, looking annoyed:
“Didn't you hear it? It's here, and your friend is already dead, believe me. This monster ate all my friends, it will eat him too.”
Then, he put his hand on her shoulder, but when she tried to free herself, the man's fingers turned into claws: Jordane felt a surge of anger rise within her and yanked her shoulder away sharply.
“A monster, my foot!” she yelled in the confined space, “I saw one of your 'friends' earlier, and it wasn't a fang in his skull, but your gold tooth!”
He staggered backward in shock, too stunned to even command her not to scream. Shame was written all over his face, and Jordane took advantage of the opening she had created to try and destabilize him and escape:
“I bet you didn’t even wait for them to die on their own, and you took matters into your own hands!” she added.
“NO!” He protested, then, “...not at first.”
Now his head was bowed, and he trembled with rage, or guilt. Jordane cautiously shifted her position.
“You have no idea what it's like,” he lamented. “When you're starving, your body eats itself... You feel your skin crack, your teeth loosen, your muscles being nibbled away, and your organs shrinking... The pain is excruciating! The monster devoured most of the survivors, but I was with a group, and we managed to find hiding spots, to stay invisible. Unfortunately, we rarely had anything to eat, and my group members began to collapse. At first, no one dared, but once we tried...”
His stomach growled again, as if to illustrate his point. This time, he grabbed Jordane's pant leg at the knee with one hand, and her sleeve with the other, towering over her.
“I did them a favor,” he continued, foam at his mouth and a vacant look in his eyes, “and I'm going to do you a favor too.”
Jordane screamed and clawed at his face, lacerating his cheek. He groaned in pain, saliva mixed with blood dripping down his chin, but he slapped her across the face, ringing her ear and making her see stars. He then grabbed her hair and smashed her head against the wall with such force that the shock made her forget the slap: the wave of pain went through her entire skull, and for a few seconds, she couldn't feel the rest of her body. As he advanced on her, Jordane just managed to regain enough control of her legs to kick him in the ribs and topple him over. He groaned in pain, insulted her, but she gathered all her strength to try and stand up: her legs collapsed once under her, then on the second attempt, her aching head spun so much that she fell forward, tumbling down the crack to land on the tracks. The man was already coming down after her, now furious. She tried to defend herself with another kick, but this time it was much too weak and he simply parried it with his hand. He lunged at her, but she managed to grab a random rock beside her and smash it on her assailant's head. A mix of blood and saliva whipped her face, and she heard a tooth fall onto one of the rails with a bell-like sound. She took the opportunity to stand up and flee along the tracks, heading back towards the broken elevator. Pain throbbed in her head, and she no longer paid attention to the beams and rocks that tripped her and nearly sent her sprawling several times. She arrived in the large room and wondered whether she should go back down to join Raphaël or find another way out.
“Jordane!” she heard whispered to her right. She turned and saw Raphaël's silhouette beckoning her, almost invisible behind a huge rock. She dashed to join him and he grabbed her to hide in his makeshift shelter.
“Jordane, we have to get out of here, there's a fucking monster in this mine!” he whispered as low as possible.
“It’s not a monster, it's a miner,” she replied. “He's been trapped here all this time.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, visibly confused. “It's a huge wolf, it had your voice Jo, it took your voice!”
She didn’t understand what he was talking about: had she hit her head that hard? She had trouble thinking, and the more she tried, the more the pain intensified. She even began to feel faint, when they heard dragging footsteps heading towards them.
“Sorry about earlier...” the miner said in a trembling voice to the apparently empty room.
They risked a furtive glance and saw him rummaging through the debris, leaving drops of blood in his wake: Jordane hadn’t missed.
“Come back and let's talk... I promise to behave.”
His voice was falsely friendly, but his face was distorted with rage, hunger, and a swelling bump on the left side of his head.
“Let's be friends, all three of us...”
Saliva flowed from his mouth, and his stomach roared with hunger, echoing throughout the cave. They took cover again as the man now headed in their direction after searching the rest of the place. He picked up a sharp rock silently, approaching their hideout as discreetly as possible. Now only a few steps away from them, he raised his weapon in the air, waiting for just one of them to dare peek out. They heard his ragged breathing just on the other side, huddled together waiting for the inevitable; but the miner didn't hear the soft footsteps of the huge thing sneaking up behind him, and the shining yellow eyes just behind his shoulders.
They all three jumped when a terrible and powerful voice shook the entire mine:
“I ALWAYS THOUGHT YOU WERE JUST A COMMON RAT, WITH YOUR STENCH OF ROTTEN RODENT. I THOUGHT I HAD EATEN EVERYTHING, BUT THERE WAS STILL A SNACK LEFT.”
The man turned and faced for the first time what he had been hiding from for so many years: a huge beast, fur as black as unreflected night, and eyes piercing his soul, ready to feed. It towered over him by a head, and from its slightly open mouth, it too let a stream of saliva escape. The miner dropped his weapon and didn’t even realize it had crushed his foot before rolling away. His mouth trembled, his dangling arms lowered.
“LOOK AT THIS...” said the monster in a falsely disappointed voice, “BARELY MORE THAN SKIN AND BONES... BUT YOU KNOW WHAT THAT'S LIKE, DON'T YOU?”
The man pulled himself together: perhaps it was being judged a second time for committing an act that only psychopaths or walking dead trapped without food for several weeks could dare imagine, or maybe it was just his survival instinct giving him a last chemical boost. Either way, he momentarily regained the use of his hands and tongue:
“You...” he said, “you and the voices... You are the cause of all my misery!”
The wolf chuckled.
“All this time hiding,” he continued, his eyes wide with rage and a mad smile, “eating your leftovers, you who devoured most of my companions! And yet I'm so happy to finally face you!”
He dug his hand into his satchel and pulled out a long, cylindrical object in faded red and an old lighter:
“I've been waiting over thirty years to give this to you!”
He raised the stick of dynamite above his head with one hand and approached the lighter to the wick with the other. He was shaking like a leaf.
“I'm going to do it!” he bellowed. “All I have to do is light this wick and the fireworks will send us to the moon!”
The wolf revealed his teeth as he grinned widely, but the miner didn’t back down:
“I'm going to light it! I can do it!” he repeated in a cracked voice. “Your only chance is to leave here and never come back! Otherwise, I'll blow your brains out, I'm not joking!”
“COME ON, COME ON!” the ferocious beast taunted, “YOU KNOW THIS IS MY HOME. SO GO AHEAD, DO IT! STRIKE YOUR LIGHTER!”
The miner stood motionless at first, then the wolf took a step towards him. Jordane and Raphaël heard a series of clicks echo in the room as the man tried to light the wick. But tears rose with the panic as the spark failed to produce a flame.
“I KNEW IT!” exclaimed the wolf, “YOU'RE BLUFFING, AREN'T YOU? WHY HAVEN'T YOU USED THAT LITTLE FANCY STICK TO GET OUT? BECAUSE YOUR LIGHTER HAS NO FUEL, RIGHT? YOU WASTED IT ALL TO LIGHT YOUR WAY AT FIRST, I BET! FIGHTING AGAINST THE DARKNESS INSTEAD OF EMBRACING IT… SUCH SADNESS…”
“Go to hell!” cried the miner.
Quicker than lightning, the wolf snapped its jaw with phenomenal force: the man's forearm vanished, and his hand holding the dynamite stick flew towards Jordane and Raphaël. It crashed to the ground within Jordane's line of sight, who was simply petrified with terror. The miner, now left with only one arm, began to scream in pain and tried to flee as the beast chewed on the bone it had just seized. Swallowing his snack, then leaping with agility, it had already caught up with the unfortunate man at the other end of the room: with a swipe of its claw, it sliced open his back, severing his spinal column. He collapsed with a cry and fell onto his back, the wolf now on top of him. A bloodstain began to form slowly under him, soaking the dry earth, while another formed under his crotch, a mix of other fluids.
Unable to stand up, as his lower body no longer responded, he tried to drag himself backward but forgot he had just lost a limb. The bone of his arm scraped against the rock, sending him a burst of unbearable pain. His scream seemed only to whet the wolf's appetite: it grabbed his leg in its mouth and chewed on his shinbone, tearing off the flesh and gnawing the bone. The man grabbed his head with his remaining hand, crying and moaning at the horrific spectacle of being devoured alive, unable to do anything more. The beast now tore off his other leg, crunching the bones like dry biscuits, accompanied by a terrible sound like branches being snapped by knees.
Jordane was horrified, unwillingly listening to the symphony of chewing sounds and pleading cries. She watched Raphaël cautiously extend his leg to the right: he was trying to grab the object lying on the ground, still firmly held by the ownerless hand.
“A stick of dynamite...” she thought, incredulous.
Her companion managed to snag the object with the tip of his foot. He pulled it toward him, but the hand held its grip, leaving a bloody trail. On the other side, the miner had both legs devoured. Now he lay silent, paralyzed by fear, simply staring at the ceiling and trembling as the wolf attacked his groin.
Raphaël picked up the explosive and tried to detach the dead limb: unwilling to touch it, he shook the stick, then tried rubbing it against the wall, but to no avail.
“I don’t know what you plan to do, but hurry up, my friend...” Jordane pleaded with her eyes.
Raphaël seemed to get the message, as he first touched the hand with his fingertips and then pulled on it with a grimace of disgust. Suddenly, the screams intensified behind them, resonating in their veins: the liquid noise and various obscene gurgles indicated that the monster was relishing the victim's intestines. Raphaël was now trying to pry the grip open with his full hand, but despite the energy he put into it, trying not to think about the rough contact with dead skin and the blood droplets on his own fingers, it didn’t work. He grabbed the stick by one end, crouched down, and swung a heel kick at the hand, sending it flying against the opposite wall. It then collapsed to the ground with a squishy sound, the fingers up like a dead spider.
“And now?” Jordane thought.
Raphaël seemed to have the same thought, as he began to look around for something to light the fuse: but nothing. The screams slowly died, along with the person making them, as the wolf attacked the ribcage, shaking the remaining carcass with its powerful jaws to dislodge the bones: the corpse danced from one hand, the head swinging in rhythm with the shakes.
Raphaël silently moved to peek around the other side of their hiding place. He saw nothing of interest – it was rather difficult in such darkness – but his gaze lingered unwillingly on the ferocious beast cracking the poor man's skull between its jaws. He turned to his partner: “I don't see how to light it...”
She bit her lip: she also cast a thorough, circular glance behind her, but nothing appeared either. She tried to think of a solution – was that Raphaël's plan? To use this weapon against the thing? Tapping two stones together? No, they needed flint for that, not ordinary rock. Even the mineral coal like this wouldn’t do.
Rubbing a stick to ignite it? No, they were hiding behind a rock, waiting to be devoured by a giant wolf, not at a scout picnic...
“I have an idea,” suddenly said Raphaël. Jordane's face momentarily lit up with hope: “but it's going to make noise,” he added.
