WHEN THE TUNNEL BEGAN to slump ahead of them, dousing the lanterns strung along the length, Zander stopped where he was. He grabbed Theo's arm to hold his headlong rush. "Wait! We're cut off!" He could only hope the other men had made it out.

"Bloody hell!" Theo shouted furiously at the fallen ceiling ahead.

Zander realized that he still gripped their shared shovel in his hand. He looked up at the dripping tunnel ceiling over his head. It could come down at any moment. Yet what if he could choose when and how it came down?

It might not work. There was a lot he didn't know. How deep were they? How far from the entrance? The entry shaft was the shallowest point. It lay safely behind the British line, but Zander had no idea how close that was.

The icy rivulet on the floor rose to his ankles, chilling him through his boots.

Let's see what happens.

He thrust the shovel straight up, driving it into the dripping earth ceiling just a few inches above his head. He pried out a shovelful of soil and rammed the shovel into the ceiling again. Theo didn't question or debate. He had to know what a ridiculously slim chance they had of survival, but Theo trusted Zander when it came to impossible notions. Worthington always landed on their feet, he'd say.

Theo simply reached up and used his bare hands to claw at the cavity Zander created with the shovel. They dug wildly, scraping the soil down and standing upon the growing pile as they burrowed upward.

Zander ignored the shape of the tunnel, which had once been admirably cylindrical but now had squashed egg-shaped dimensions.

The gut-wrenching rumble came again from ahead of them. They didn't have long now. Zander pulled off his cravat and knotted one end about his wrist and the other to Theo's. The length of fine linen would keep them no more than a yard apart. "Don't let go!" he shouted as the last lantern shimmied from its peg and disappeared into the oncoming mud. He pulled Theo to stand beneath the cavity they created.

"Remember which way is up!".

And the ceiling fell down upon them even as Zander tried to grab a last lungful of air.

Zander reached and clawed. He kicked upward, swimming laboriously through the slick, choking mud. He could feel the pull on the lashing about his wrist and he knew Theo fought alongside him. The mud was so damned heavy. It tried to pin down his limbs. It tried to push down his chest, to force him to exhale and then drown. It was a monster, that mud, a voracious man-eating monster. Zander and Theo didn't even make a hearty snack.

Zander's chest burned for air. His throat locked tight against the mud that somehow filled his mouth no matter how he clamped his lips tight. He swam up.