broken or crushed nearly as easily as a human could. There had been enough space under and between the lumps of debris that fell on him to let his malleable body make space for his brain and his lungs and the other, more vulnerable bits of him that could not be flattened out quite so much as the rest of his body.
Along with the memory came the pain. Every inch of him was under unbearable pressure. He felt it most in his head and his chest – the terrifying, helpless feeling of being trapped, knowing most of his body had been reduced to a thin skin, the hard edges of the rocks piercing right through in places. He tried to scream the pain away, but he could barely breathe. Myunans could go some time without air, but he was buried beneath a mountain of rock. Nayalla was probably nearby, suffering the same fate. Nobody was coming to get them out. He tried to scream again; his thoughts faded away from him and he surrendered to unconsciousness.
* * * *
They used the split end of a broken support timber to prise the slab a hand’s width off the ground, and then wedged it with other rocks. Sliding the shore further under, all three men got their shoulders under the other end of their lever and roared as they heaved it upwards. Nayalla crawled in under the precariously raised boulder and carefully peeled her husband from the ground, quickly checking to see if any part of him had been torn away, relieved to find that it hadn’t. She dragged him out and clear of the three miners. The strain showing on their faces, they eased the boulder to the ground again.
Then they stood back in shock at the sight of Mirkrin’s body. Apart from the odd lump here and there, he was flattened beyond recognition. There were bloody holes in some places where his flesh had been pierced under the irresistible pressure of the rocks and when he was laid flat, he covered the floor of the tunnel from one side to the other.
‘We were too late,’ Noogan shook his head and sat down shakily.
Nayalla stroked the mat of hair that had been her husband’s head.
‘Mirkrin? Can you hear me, my love? You’re free, I know you’re alive – please Mirkrin, tell me you can hear me.’
There came a ragged gasp of air and the fingers of his right hand twitched. The miners stared in amazement as the crushed Myunan started to contract, hauling the overstretched muscles of his body into their normal form. Mirkrin’s head and chest expanded first. He drew in a gasp of air and screamed. His body continued to regain its shape, but it was going to take time. He was injured and in pain, his elasticity damaged by the pressure of the rock. Nayalla stayed kneeling by his side, murmuring words of comfort and encouragement.
The miners stepped around him and got to work again, pulling aside the moveable stones and digging dust and debris out with their picks and shovels. But they soon hit more of the larger boulders and had to give up. They were going to have to wait for the rescue teams to dig through from the other side with heavy lifting gear. Noogan and Dalegin sat down to watch Mirkrin’s recovery, and grieve for the friends they had lost. Paternasse picked up the lantern and took stock of the situation.
They had enough oil to last them into the night, and methylated spirit for the lamps on their helmets. Walking down the tunnel to check their supplies, his heart sank as he found another pile of rubble down near the end. The cart lay somewhere underneath. He sat down and pulled the neckerchief from his mouth, rubbing the dust off his face and wiping his running nose. He hawked and spat a knot of phlegm from his throat. Then he pressed a finger against one side of his nose and snorted a lump of snot from one nostril, and then changed sides to clear the other. Their first problem was air. If the top end of the tunnel was completely closed off, they would be dead in two or three days. If they had enough air, then their next problem was water. The cave-in had filled
Along with the memory came the pain. Every inch of him was under unbearable pressure. He felt it most in his head and his chest – the terrifying, helpless feeling of being trapped, knowing most of his body had been reduced to a thin skin, the hard edges of the rocks piercing right through in places. He tried to scream the pain away, but he could barely breathe. Myunans could go some time without air, but he was buried beneath a mountain of rock. Nayalla was probably nearby, suffering the same fate. Nobody was coming to get them out. He tried to scream again; his thoughts faded away from him and he surrendered to unconsciousness.
* * * *
They used the split end of a broken support timber to prise the slab a hand’s width off the ground, and then wedged it with other rocks. Sliding the shore further under, all three men got their shoulders under the other end of their lever and roared as they heaved it upwards. Nayalla crawled in under the precariously raised boulder and carefully peeled her husband from the ground, quickly checking to see if any part of him had been torn away, relieved to find that it hadn’t. She dragged him out and clear of the three miners. The strain showing on their faces, they eased the boulder to the ground again.
Then they stood back in shock at the sight of Mirkrin’s body. Apart from the odd lump here and there, he was flattened beyond recognition. There were bloody holes in some places where his flesh had been pierced under the irresistible pressure of the rocks and when he was laid flat, he covered the floor of the tunnel from one side to the other.
‘We were too late,’ Noogan shook his head and sat down shakily.
Nayalla stroked the mat of hair that had been her husband’s head.
‘Mirkrin? Can you hear me, my love? You’re free, I know you’re alive – please Mirkrin, tell me you can hear me.’
There came a ragged gasp of air and the fingers of his right hand twitched. The miners stared in amazement as the crushed Myunan started to contract, hauling the overstretched muscles of his body into their normal form. Mirkrin’s head and chest expanded first. He drew in a gasp of air and screamed. His body continued to regain its shape, but it was going to take time. He was injured and in pain, his elasticity damaged by the pressure of the rock. Nayalla stayed kneeling by his side, murmuring words of comfort and encouragement.
The miners stepped around him and got to work again, pulling aside the moveable stones and digging dust and debris out with their picks and shovels. But they soon hit more of the larger boulders and had to give up. They were going to have to wait for the rescue teams to dig through from the other side with heavy lifting gear. Noogan and Dalegin sat down to watch Mirkrin’s recovery, and grieve for the friends they had lost. Paternasse picked up the lantern and took stock of the situation.
They had enough oil to last them into the night, and methylated spirit for the lamps on their helmets. Walking down the tunnel to check their supplies, his heart sank as he found another pile of rubble down near the end. The cart lay somewhere underneath. He sat down and pulled the neckerchief from his mouth, rubbing the dust off his face and wiping his running nose. He hawked and spat a knot of phlegm from his throat. Then he pressed a finger against one side of his nose and snorted a lump of snot from one nostril, and then changed sides to clear the other. Their first problem was air. If the top end of the tunnel was completely closed off, they would be dead in two or three days. If they had enough air, then their next problem was water. The cave-in had filled
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