CHAPTER 37

Northeast Kingdom, Vermont

Samantha Moore hefted another rock.

She had to do it.

She had no choice.

She was still alive, which left her with no option but to keep going.

Or die trying.

The skin on her hands and fingers had hardened, making it nearly impossible for her to feel the surface of each rock as she gripped it. She forced herself not to be discouraged by the disastrous slide that nearly defeated her. After it happened, after she’d curled up into a ball of despair and sobbed for hours, she pulled herself up. She stared at the rock-strewn slope. It looked like the side of a pyramid and had again sealed the archway.

Failure is the greatest teacher.

I can’t quit.

Sam had to draw upon the positive. Use it to fuel her. Prior to the slide, she’d moved enough rocks to create a gap, large enough to reach her hand right into the adjoining chamber—albeit nervously, because of the possibility of a bat attack—where she felt a wisp of air.

It had to be fresh air from the surface.

So, after resting, recovering, and realizing that to give up was to die, she went back to work, removing rock after rock, placing each one in a safe position.

At times, her muscles ached and twitched. She could feel herself weaken with fatigue. She kept herself hydrated, and took rest breaks before returning to the drudgery of moving rocks.

But unlike her first effort, with this one she’d developed a routine to avert another rock slide— look, lift, and listen. First, she’d look for best rock to move—not the easiest stone, but rather the best positioned one. Then she’d lift the correct rock from the slope. Then she’d listen for movement, any telltale sounds of dangerous shifting.

That was the drill.

Rock after rock after rock.

Sam didn’t know how long she had been working this time. A day, two days? Longer or shorter? All she knew was that she had to keep looking, lifting, and listening, because her life depended on it.

She was not going to die here. She hated it here, and she hated the monster who’d put her here. Memories of her mother, her father, and the people she loved gave her strength, made her all the more determined to take her life back—one rock at a time.

Progress was glacial, so that it almost escaped her notice that she had once again created a gap at the top of the archway, a breakthrough into the next chamber.

Oh my God!

The darkness there was pierced with slim, vertical shafts of natural light.

Sam stifled a cry of exhausted joy. Those shafts of light were hope.

Be careful.

She forced herself not to accelerate, but to take the utmost care to look, lift, and listen.

I’m not going to repeat the same mistake and create another slide.