A thunderous resonance would echo throughout the tunnel whenever a mining hammer smashed a rock while they chanted.
‘We dig, dig, dig, all the time.
We dig, dig, dig, for it’s all we know.
We dig, dig, dig, this eternal mine.
We dig, dig, dig, for salvation must be below.’
And so they chanted. Their lights illuminated the rock wall in front of them as they slowly advanced, the miners removing rock in front of them and passing it behind. The rocks passed through the hands of the haphazard caravan until being deposited to fill in the tunnel behind them. As the tunnel got excavated in front of them, it would fill up behind them. The few hundred survivors shuffled onward, slowly delving deeper into the planet. A pocket of life burrowing deeper into the ground. Anywhere but up.
Various vehicles and carts made up the caravan, and they tried to space out their islands of lights to make sure nobody was left in the dark. Walking behind one of the carts was Sarah. Her hands were still dirty from tending the garden before her. But that didn’t matter. Everything was dirty. There was never enough water for washing–they barely had enough for themselves and the few plants they managed to grow.
She wasn’t smart, but she didn’t have to be. She was only seven and only knew how to tend the garden and that they had to keep going down. They were running from something at the surface, and everyone feared it with such conviction that they would proceed no matter the cost.
This was their universe. Her universe. When they rested, she tended the garden, and afterward her mother would hold Sarah and rock back and forth until they both fell asleep listening to the soft echoes of other people talking. Sarah wanted to know what had happened and why they were fleeing, but she knew her mother would just hush her and rock even harder. All she understood was that they had to dig deeper.
The caravan had recently stopped. Sarah was pulling out some potatoes from the garden when she heard something. A familiar sound. Mining hammers on rock. But muffled. She looked over at the far end of their caravan. The miners were not currently working, but she could still hear the familiar assault on her ears mixed in with an even more muffled chant. Others started to take notice and turned their dirtied faces toward the wall. Murmurs whispered through the camp.
A light broke through as the wall fell down in front of them. Sarah ran to her mother, who quickly swept her up in her arms and held her close. Lifted high, Sarah had a better view of what was going on.
Miners on the other side of the wall paused, but Sarah could still hear the chants of others behind the unknown miners.
‘We climb, climb, climb, to flee this confine.
We climb, climb, climb, for the horror will never stop.
We climb, climb, climb, we seek eternal sunshine.
We climb, climb, climb, for salvation must be up top.’
Sarah watched as the miners from her caravan rushed toward their hammers and picked them up, not knowing what else to do. The other side faltered, and a hush overtook both sides. A standoff. Sarah watched as her leader met with what she assumed was the other group’s leader. They talked with each other for a few brief moments, and then the others started coming through, single file.
Sarah watched them shuffle by, unable to keep her nose from scrunching up. They were even dirtier than she was, but that wasn’t it. They were short, pale, bald, and their pupils were as large as their eyes. They had been underground for a long time.
Sarah’s family and friends had shown conviction in their quest to go down, but these newcomers showed something else: unbridled fear. She had never seen such a desire to escape from something, and the others sensed it too. They were running from something below–right where Sarah’s group were going. Her mother let Sarah slide down, and Sarah took refuge behind her mother’s legs, peeking out as the others passed by, moving through the islands of light to collect at the wall behind them.
Slowly, Sarah’s caravan moved in through the hole and into the cavern left by the other group. There was hesitation. What could terrify the strangers to run so unwaveringly, and was it worse than what they were already running from at the surface?
Sarah mustered the courage to turn around and ask, but the strangers had already shut the way behind them in their haste to escape to the surface. Nobody in her caravan moved for a minute until a worker started chanting, and the others followed suit.
Like an automaton, the mass continued its journey below, moving aside the rocks the other group had laid behind during their journey, and the caravan bucked forward.
Sarah couldn’t stop herself from shaking as she passed a rock along. What could terrify the other group so? Was it wise to go straight toward whatever they’d fled?
Her thoughts were drowned out by the crowd around her as the caravan inched forward again.
‘We dig, dig, dig, all the time.
We dig, dig, dig, for it’s the best we know.
We dig, dig, dig, this eternal mine.
We dig, dig, dig, for salvation is hopefully below.’
Bridger Cummings is a writer and editor residing in Denver, Colorado. He lived in Germany for six years before doing a world trip and returning to the states. His head is often in the clouds. You can find Bridger at @BridgerCummings and bridgersmusings.com.
Photo by Jed Owen on Unsplash.
