Hugh Howey - Half Way Home

And something was. Not a monster, but a bright flash—a glimmer of my own light reflected back. There were more whispers from the group, followed by panicked shushes. Kelvin grabbed my wrist and aimed the light at the reflective material. We all took a step forward, marveling at the sight of raw gold lying in the floor of the tunnel—thick, cylindrical coils of it. There was enough gold in that single heap to make hundreds of barrels or thousands of bowls. The mound was the size of our entire group laid out along the ground.

Kelvin went forward to touch it. I started to whisper a complaint.

And then a solitary gunshot sounded out.

The report of the gun sounded high and crisp as it rattled through the dense rock. The noise rang down around us, causing us all to duck reflexively. I cupped my hand over the flashlight and held my breath, waiting on the second shot—but it never came.

Kelvin grasped my shoulder and leaned over, his breath in my ear, his voice barely audible. “No ricochet,” he said.

It took a moment for the awful logic to sink in. My stomach cramped with fear. I turned away from the gold and shuffled back toward the two mine shafts, working my way through the stunned group. When I got to the continuation of the shaft high up the curved wall—the portion we hadn’t been down yet—I paused, waiting for Kelvin and the others to catch up.

We gathered together, whispering and shushing each other, when the distant silence was shattered by the rev of a tractor engine. The noise altered pitch as the vehicle entered the mouth of the mine in the unseen distance—it became high and piercing, much like the gunshot. Tarsi came up beside me, the worry in her face visible by the dim light seeping through my fingers. I pointed up the curved wall to the mouth of the square mine shaft. Several of the others were already trying to climb their way up.

Kelvin scampered up the curve as far as he could, but instead of reaching for the lip above, he turned back and motioned for Tarsi. I helped push her to him with one hand, lighting the way with the other. Together, we boosted her up to the lip, which she pulled herself over in a flurry of kicking feet.

I grabbed Mindy and we did the same; the rest of the group figured out what was required and began working together.

Tarsi hissed something down to us, but with the tractor roaring ever closer, it was impossible to hear.

“There’s no room,” Mindy said, relaying the message down. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a growing light dancing in the mouth of the shaft from which we’d descended. It looked like a fire, one that was growing rapidly. Turning back, I forgot caution and lifted the flashlight as high as I could, illuminating the ledge we were struggling to reach.

Tarsi cursed.

Rising up behind her were piles of large rocks and shards of twisted metal paneling. I put a hand on Kelvin’s shoulder and pushed myself higher, trying to see what was in the way. Mindy and Tarsi, the only two on the ledge, turned to follow the flashlight’s beam. They were leaning back over fallen boulders and large chunks of broken machinery.

Despite the ruination of the equipment, I recognized it at once. Perhaps the sound of the blatting engine of the approaching tractor helped me on a subconscious level. We were looking at the remains of a mining tractor amid rubble that had fallen from the edge of the roof. I could see a clear path over the heap and to the passage beyond, but it would take time to crawl through. We’d have to go one at a time and be careful to not get sliced up on the sheared metal.

Suddenly, Kelvin pulled me down and fumbled for my flashlight. I started to argue and push him away, then saw the bright light growing behind us. I could tell by the roar of the engine and the play of headlights on the rock above that we didn’t have much time.

I turned to urge Tarsi and Mindy to come back down, but they were in the middle of pulling another person up. We began shouting at each other, the blat of the tractor so loud it seemed to offer a false cover. Half of us were yelling to get over the lip, others were pulling and insisting we run down the larger, round tunnel. And even that latter group couldn’t agree, as I felt myself tugged in both directions at once.

When the headlights hit us, the rays acted like a steel blade slicing through our indecision. Our thoughts and plans fell away—as did our logic and ability to reason. All that remained was the urge to flee. I fell back down the slope as someone pulled me along. Our bare feet slapped the stone as the group in the tunnel darted off in both directions, scattering like nighttime bugs at the sudden pop of a worklight.

I flicked off the flashlight, and we stumbled through the darkness. Ahead of me, someone tripped and tumbled, cursing. We slowed and felt along with our hands; I came across a large object, cold and smooth. The glow of the headlights leaking around the corner caught on the surface of—

More gold.

Jorge—who had obviously been the one to trip—lay on the other side of it. He held his foot and whispered violence. The rest of our fractured group crowded around him, trying to help him up and pull him into the deeper darkness. There were only four of us, the rest having run the other way along the round tunnel’s length.

Someone shouted out over the engine’s roar: “Stop! Stop!”

We froze, our group as still as a statue. The shouting continued as a bright light filled the tunnel behind us, illuminating the curved wall and the blocked mine shaft. Wet brakes squealed, causing the lights to dip down then bounce back up. The sharp noise sliced through my nerves and cut off the mad yelling. The feeling in my body gradually returned as I realized the shouting hadn’t been for us—it had been for the tractor—someone yelling to hit the brakes before they tumbled into the larger tunnel.

As the panic passed, our small group scampered up the same curved wall the tractor’s headlights shone through, the solace of darkness pulling at us.

We heard shouting over the idling engine: “When I say stop, you need to stop, asshole!”

The sound of other voices, voices from our fellow colonists, filled me with an odd mix of emotions—of panic marbled with normalcy.

A door slammed, another odd sound after being away from the colony for what felt like a lifetime.

“I couldn’t hear you,” a second voice shouted. “Besides, I saw the floor was missing.”

“Kill that engine, man.”

“And risk the battery? We’ve got tons of fuel. Besides, I want the light. The tunnel across the way is blocked.”

“We’ll have to climb down to get over there.” The cone of a flashlight burst out of the larger radiance created by the headlights. It slid toward us, sending us further up the slope. “Maybe they went down this larger tunnel—”

“Wait! I just saw something move over there.”

The flashlight stopped and went back to join the rest of the light shining directly across. I struggled to place the voice; it seemed intimately familiar.

“Where?” the other person asked.

“Straight across.”

“You sure it wasn’t a shadow?”

“Shadows don’t move unless something else is, you idiot. Hey! You there! I command you in the name of Colony to come out!”

Oliver.

I couldn’t believe it. I also couldn’t believe his presence filled me with as much fear as any other would have. Save Hickson, of course. I could taste the panic in my mouth; I wondered if I should feel relief, instead. And yet, of all the colonists I abandoned by crawling through the fence, I was closest to Oliver, and I suspect he judged me the most harshly for my betrayal. My departure was like turning my back on the very gods he worshipped.