by Trevor Hoyle
‘But the level of the water didn’t reach the head of the mine,’ Helen said, distraught.
The engineer shook his head. ‘It doesn’t have to. The tunnel they were in is nearly a mile underground, and with that volume of water in the Valley there must be a hundred access points leading to the lower level. I’m sorry, but there it is – the Telluride Mine is flooded right up to the brim. Anyone in there is not only underground but underwater as well.’
Now she looked down on the bright orange steelwork above the mine-head, the helplessness so strong inside her that she felt physically sick. What if a miracle had occurred and they had managed to find a pocket of air, enough to keep them alive until a rescue team got to them? It was still possible, wasn’t it? Why couldn’t these people do something instead of sitting here on the side of the mountain in the clear morning sunlight? They were alive, breathing fresh air, while underground there could be four men clinging to the last vestiges of life, counting every breath and praying it wasn’t to be their last.
Helen turned her head away from the flooded Valley and looked up towards the gaunt granite peak of the mountain with its light powdering of snow. For once it was free of cloud, standing sharp and black and slab-like against the pale washed blue of the sky. It reminded her of a monolith, a monument of some kind, though she couldn’t think of what event or person it had been erected to commemorate.
CONTENTS
Part One: THE MOUNTAIN
Part Two: THE PROPHECY
Part Three: THE FLOOD
