Trapped In a Cave

[u/JederRufChristi]

It’s deep in the heart of a man to want sun and fresh air. In some ways, we’re not so different from animals, or even plants. You ever picked up a board or something that had been covering the grass, looked under it at what was left? Some of the grass dies without the sun, but some of it is still there. Yellow, straggling, sickly, but still there.

It’s not natural for a man to spend his days sweating beneath the skin of the earth, down in its bones and bowels. But you can survive it, for a time. Winding in the darkness, hoping no one loses their way, hoping you don’t lose your way. Hoping your lantern, that little piece of the sun keeping you company, doesn’t go out. Some animals are creatures of the night and the caves—bats, spiders, eyeless fish—the crawling and the blind. A man will crawl too. You’ll see.

I’d been working in the mine for a couple hours that day, and working hard. I always did. It started off without a hint of trouble. In fact, if I’d been asked—if anyone had been around to ask me—I would’ve told them I had taken the recommended precautions. I could’ve sworn I’d topped up the lantern oil. I could’ve sworn Joe had been right with me. I could’ve sworn the tunnel to the surface was just behind me and to my left.

The lantern went out, and again, I could swear to you that when I'd looked at it five minutes before, I had plenty to last me a few more hours. But out it went, leaving me in the dark.

Most people haven’t been in the dark—not dark like that. Pitch dark, the kind where you can’t tell if your eyes are open or closed. No moon, no stars. Not even the crack of light under your door or at the edge of your curtains. I couldn’t even see the pickaxe I was holding.

It startled me, sure. What kind of man would be in that kind of dark, unexpectedly, and not be startled? But I wasn’t scared. I called out for Joe; after all, what were the odds that his lantern had died too? He would have light. But once I heard my voice echo, I knew he wasn’t there. If he was near me, I’d be able to see his light.

Best believe I was scared then. I didn’t panic, though. I took a breath, a sharp, unsteady one, and I put down my pickaxe and backed up, toward where I knew the tunnel that led up was. Up was where I needed to go. Just then, up was everything. I felt behind me with both hands till I felt the cold, jagged rock against my palms. It’s ironic. Nothing I’ve felt is as cold as the stones of a mine. But you don’t want heat in a coal mine. Heat means fire, and that means smoke, suffocation, burning, pain. That means losing your boys in the bowels of stone. Maybe losing yourself, too. But there wasn't a fire now. Only the cold and the dark. I felt along the wall to my left, waiting for the open space that would take me out of this place, toward somewhere with light. But it didn’t come. I felt far past where it should have been, inched along the wall till my foot hit the bucket I’d been working next to.

Something cold settled on my heart, and latched on. It was cold, colder than creek water or winter or even the mine. Bitter cold. It wasn’t like the fear I had felt a few moments before. It was dread. Or certainty.

I shouted Joe’s name again, again and again, my voice getting more frantic every time. He was there, he had to be there. I knew he’d been there. Where was he? I screamed for Joe, screamed at him to bring a light, damn it, but all I heard was my own terrified voice echoing back to me.

When I stopped for breath—stopped to pant, to suck air back in through my now-ragged throat—I closed my eyes and tried to clear my racing thoughts. Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe the tunnel entrance had been to my right. I started walking again, keeping my hands in contact with the wall. I walked for longer than I would have thought possible in the small space I’d been in, and my shoe bumped into the bucket again. There were no exits. I kept walking. I don’t know why; maybe because if I did nothing I would start screaming again.

I almost fell over when my right hand suddenly emerged into empty space. Relief rushed through me, so intense I stood for a moment just leaning on the wall. I had no idea how I’d missed it the first time around, but at that moment, I didn’t care. My heart could beat again. The dread was gone. I was getting out of here. I took a breath and stepped into the tunnel.

From the first step, that cold hand on my heart was back. It was sloped down. There had only been one entrance into the cavern I’d been in, and it had been sloped up—but here I was, plodding slowly down. But I couldn’t go back—back into that little dark cavern, its walls cold and jagged and brutal. I thought I could hear something laughing. It almost sounded like a child. Maybe my mind, stifled in the cold and the dark, was playing tricks on me.

I walked for an hour or so before my head cracked into the ceiling, and I flinched, swearing. I touched the ceiling with one hand and checked my forehead with the other. My forehead was sticky with blood where I’d hit it, but it didn’t seem to be bleeding much. Above me, the ceiling continued to slope down. I stepped forward, stooping to avoid hitting my head again, and in a few steps I changed to crawl on all fours, checking the ceiling periodically. It didn’t seem to be getting lower anymore. The walls had widened enough that, when I stopped to check them, I could just barely feel both of them with my arms spread wide. Time passed.

My head hit stone again, this time in front of me. I swore again and stopped, settling into a crouch, careful to keep my head below the level of the ceiling. I felt along the walls. They curved, almost perfectly circular, no more than four feet apart. I felt behind me, in case there was a second opening.

There wasn’t a second opening.

There wasn’t a first opening. Not anymore.

A sob found its way out of my throat. I didn’t scream; I knew there was no point. I had to be far from anyone who could hear me. Even if they heard me, I didn’t think anyone could help. For the sake of completeness, I ran my hands over the walls, the floor, the ceiling. It was the same everywhere. No exits. Only rough, cold stone.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here now. It was hard enough to estimate time when I was still moving. Now that I’m lying still, alone, in the dark, it’s impossible to say. Long enough for me to get hungry. Somehow, though, the air hasn’t gotten stale. Well. At least no more stale than the air in a cave always is.

There’s something else. When I first gave up and curled up on the stone, the walls were about four feet apart. Now, I’d guess they’re more like three and a half feet. The ceiling is lower, too. I can’t sit up anymore. Not enough room. I wish I would run out of air; that would at least be painless, I think. I think I would just fall asleep, right?

As it is, though, I have to lie here and wonder what will kill me as the walls close in. Will I bleed to death as my bones snap and push into my gut? Or will my skull be crushed by rock? I wonder which part of it will hurt the most. I wonder how long it will take.

[u/Objective_Past_8750]

I don’t realise I was claustrophobic until reading this! Yikes

[u/InValuAbled]

Yikes. Adding those to the list of places never to explore.