006

Once he was done with filling his containers, he put them back into the bag. Then, he placed the rations on top. He clothed himself and grabbed the now heavy bag on his shoulders and he began to walk towards the winding path that led up.

He took one last look at the cavern filled with shiny lights. If he survived this, he would probably never forget this place.

And he moved on, one step at a time, using the pickaxe to support himself.

He spent two and a half days walking upwards. He had to take into account that he was slower due to the heavier charge.

He reached a place he believed was high enough that there was the rest of the mine on the other side.

Now, he just needed to pick where he would start digging. He needed to find the right side. Considering the landscape outside, he should try to find the east in order to have a chance. Though, how the fuck was he supposed to do so?

In the other mine, they placed the torches on the wall that faced the north and/or wooden signs. Of course, there were many high-tech devices that could help but they weren't things given to low-class miners. As for him, it was already a wonder why they gave him so much food to go die…

Anyways, he had no indications yet still had to find the answer. It wasn't a simple question one could half-ass either. If he picked the wrong side, he would die from hunger or have to kill himself because of it.

Fortunately, there was a way. An option. With a very low chance of success. But it did exist. There was a code used by miners. A way to make it known where they would dig.

If a miner, at least in this mine, heard three loud 'clanks' resound behind a wall, it meant someone planned to dig through that wall. If they heard it, they would answer with two loud 'clanks' to indicate there was someone behind. From there, the first one would have two options. If he knocked twice more, it would mean he gave up digging. If he knocked thrice, it meant he would dig and appreciate help from the other side.

Number 748 decided to place his hopes in this. Anyways, if no one could hear his pounding, it meant he was too far to even have a chance to dig enough. He was racing against the clock too. If he found a tunnel on the other side but it was too far… He would still die.

And so, he made a mark on the wall, dropped his bag, and pounded on it thrice with the pickaxe. Nothing.

He walked a meter aside and pounded. Nothing.

He repeated this, eight more times, marking the last spot before making his way back. He grabbed the bag and went to the opposite wall. He made a mark and pounded.

From then on, he began to pound as he walked upwards with hope that he would succeed. But hope was not far from despair. Not finding anything after a day of hard work was already tough on the mind but if it went on like this for two days, then three days…

He was fighting against himself from the fourth day on. A little devil in his mind whispered him to give everything up and just kill himself. That what he did was pointless. That there was nothing he could do to escape his fate.

The lack of success, the loneliness, the darkness and the underground's atmosphere clouded his judgement and tried to devour his sanity. But he remained firm. As much as he could. He kept pounding on the hard walls. Because he knew that this might be the grand finale of his life.

So, he kept pounding. Even if he ended up dying, at the very least, he could say he had given it his all once he entered hell.

He pounded and pounded in the dark. His breathing and the colliding pickaxe being the only sounds he was hearing down there.

And finally, on the eleventh day, as if like a miracle, he heard something that did not come from him. Someone pounded back. He stood there stunned for a moment. Then, he hurried to pound back three times. And he began to hear wild pounding from the other side. So, he pounded too with all he had, screaming with all his might to encourage himself.

The sounds on the other side stopped after some time. The guy on the opposite side probably finished his shift. Every miner only worked a set time per day according to their quota.

But he did not stop. Number 748 kept pounding. There was no sound coming from the other side anymore but he knew. He knew there was something behind it. He did not even consider that it might be his mind playing tricks. He simply dug with all he had.

And after who knows how long, as his hands were already bleeding from all his exertion, the wall of stone cracked.

He sent one more hit upon it and it broke. He could see an empty tunnel on the other side. He fell to his knees, crying his eyes out. This had been too close for comfort but he made it. It was a miracle and it was his.

He still had a chance!

He wiped his tears away with his filthy sleeve and approached his bag to the hole. He pounded a few more times on the wall, making it big enough for him to cross over. Then, he went through.

He had escaped the 'deep end' alive. And with a big loot.

Now, he needed to make sure he kept it for himself and made a run for it.