Tunnel Bombs

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

    I tried retracing my steps, but it was {hopeless, futile}. I didn’t have a good sense of direction to begin with, and certainly not in a dark, endless, weaving tunnel. I felt lost and trapped in the musty, claustrophobic tunnels.

As I wandered through the tunnels, I eventually heard screams and explosions in the distance.

I was suddenly overwhelmed by an explosion of emotions inside of me. Fear, relief, courage, sadness, pain. Why? Why did this have to happen to me? So much pain had been inflicted on my family. Again? Really? In my mind, I raged at God, and at everyone who had ever hurt me. Forgiveness was the last thing on my mind. I broke down and started crying; tears of sadness, regret, and sorrow cascading down my cheeks.

Finally, I managed to calm down, and as a new round of explosions penetrated the {quiet}, adrenaline coursed through my veins, energizing me and breaking me out of my emotional stupor. I pulled myself together and started sprinting towards the unmistakable sounds of death and suffering. ‘If I have to die,’ I decided, ‘I’m going to die trying to save someone.’ It wouldn’t be very valiant to die here, crying. I could picture my gravestone: R.I.P. Cayden Robin “Cade” Stanton - Age: 15 - Died moping in a cave.

    Picturing this almost made me laugh. Almost. Now my emotions were so jumbled I wasn’t sure whether I was crying out of pain, happiness, despair, anger, or a countless number of other emotions. Whatever emotion it was, it added to my adrenaline as I sped through the tunnels, getting closer and closer to {imminent death, my own fate}.

    I almost wretched as I stumbled over the first dead body. I managed to keep going, even though every part of my body wanted to run away and scream.

    A couple minutes later, I came across a group of 4 unconscious bodies. It looked like someone had tossed them aside to get them out of the way. I bent down and pressed two fingers to one little girl’s wrist. She was still alive, though the pulse was faint. I checked the pulses of the other three; they were still alive. I breathed a sigh of relief.

    I’m no doctor, but I knew enough not to move them around too much in case they had broken bones.

    One of the little boys moaned as his eyes fluttered open. His aqua-colored eyes widened as he saw me crouched next to him, looking down at him.

    “Are you okay?” I asked, concerned. I realized that it was a really stupid question. He was now writhing in pain.

    “No…” the boy moaned, his face contorted in pain.

    I gingerly touched the boy’s cheek, which had a single glistening tear streaming down it.

    I tried to diagnose the boy and the other 3 people's injuries and ended up depleting my emergency First-Aid kit of Band-Aids, gauze, antiseptic, and medical tape. I arranged the children more comfortably along the side of the tunnel and sat with them until they fell asleep.

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I continued on towards the sounds of violence. I pressed red wax onto the tunnel wall whenever I turned so that I would be able to find my way back to the four children and help them.

    Finally, I entered a large room with a high, domed rock ceiling. Many people were scattered about, working hurriedly and talking in hushed, urgent {tones, voices}.