Dwindling Hope

Scott does his best to help Katie with Jamie back to the car, feeling pretty helpless. He wanted to stop and worry about Con himself right now, but knew others needed more help at the moment.

He makes the trip back to TJY quickly, knowing it would be better to let others know what was happening, and be at a place where they could find out quickly if any more news came through.


Laura feels Nate’s hand in hers, and stares at it for a moment. She could feel the callouses on his fingers, and her thumb automatically rubs his palm. She swallows hard, taking in his comfort like a sponge.

Tears pool behind her eyes, but they don’t fall. “Thank you…Nate.” She finally looks up at him. “I…I want to go see the tv in the break room to see what’s going on.”

She nods with decision and stands up, keeping Nate’s hand grasped in hers. Slowly she heads for the break room, seeing the tv still on from when the others had left so quickly. The scene of the accident was still on. The reporter, Justine, was still commenting about the cave-in.

Laura enters hesitantly, approaching the tv and taking in the sight. She doesn’t even realize her fingers tightening around Nate’s. Swallowing hard, she forces herself to concentrate on the screen, her fear evident only in her eyes. She had lived everyday knowing her brother was in danger at TJY…but she’d gotten used to him being safe with an outside job…and now this. It just went to prove that no matter where you were, life was still fragile.

Laura slowly leans against Nate, pulling his arm around her own shoulder. Resting her head against his shoulder and chest, a tear finally escapes.


As the others return, Scott directs Katie to help Jamie any way she needs, and he himself goes to find Jason. Once a report is given, the word spreads throughout TJY. Inquiring phone calls are made, the tv is watched, and prayers go up everywhere.


Darkness. The air was thick and warm and hard to breathe. Dust. Pungent smells of earth and gasoline.

An enormous weight presses down on Con's chest and shoulder. He blinks, sweat and dirt stinging his eyes, but can see nothing in the pitch black world. Trying to shift his weight proves to be difficult. His left hand reaches up and feels the cool stone on top of him. A bolder that was wedging him against a rocky surface.

"Brandon...Tank?"

Con squints, desperately trying to hear something. "Dean?" he calls loudly.

"Tank?"

"Talk louder, buddy, I can't hear ya."

"Over here!"

Con twists his head around, still unable to see anything. The voice couldn't be more than ten feet away. "You hurt?"

It's a moment before he can hear Dean's strained voice again. "Yeah."

"How bad?"

"Can't tell...my legs are stuck...hurts bad."

Con puts pressure on the bolder that's pinning him, but it doesn't want to budge, and after a moment, he has to stop and catch his breath. "Brandon?" he calls.

Nothing.

"Brandon?"

Still nothing.

Dean's voice comes back. "I don't know if he's here...but he might not have...made it."

Con grits his teeth. How could this have happened. One minute they were on the site, the next falling, and he knew nothing until now. "What happened?"

"I don't know...we fell."

A moan comes from only feet away.

Con's senses are heightened. "Brandon? That you?" Not receiving a response, Con's desperation rises. Straining with all his might, he places a hand to the cold bolder and pushes. His pinned shoulder feels like it's being torn from his socket as his muscles threaten to give. But the bolder starts to shift. Dirt falls onto his face and he cringes. If he can just...get it...a little...higher...

Suddenly the weight is gone. Catching his breath, he doesn't have enough room to roll over, but pulls himself out from under the rock, feeling dirt and rock wall all around him. Scooting in further, he sits up, but when he tries to stand, he hits his head. Back down, he crawls on his hand and knees, groping his way in the pitch blackness. His hand hits something soft.

"It's me," Dean responds. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Con fibs. He can feel the blood running down the side of his own face and his splitting headache warns him that he's got a concussion. He can barely move his right shoulder through the pain, and isn't sure the extent of that damage. But Dean sounded worse off. "Where are you pinned?"

"Knees down."

Con runs his hands along Dean, feeling where he's positioned against the wall of this hole. Several stones like the ones that had held him down were pinning Dean's legs. Pushing on one, Dean lets out a cry. "I gotta move it, Dean. It's gonna hurt like heck, but we gotta get you out from under it. Can you pull yourself out when I lift?"

Dean holds his breath through the pain. "Yeah."

"Okay...one...two...three."

Con pushes and lifts with all the strength he's got left, and can feel Dean pulling himself out. "You free?"

"Yeah."

Letting the stone back down, Con shifts to the side, feeling where Dean is again. "How big is this hole?"

"Don't know...not big. Feels tight."

"That it does."

Dean almost laughs. "I bet it's worse for you. Can you stand up?"

"No, the ceiling's too low."

"We must be in some sort of pocket. It's amazing we haven't been crushed."

"No kidding." Con moves his hands gently down Dean's legs and grimaces at what he feels. Both were severely broken. "Don't move unless you absolutely have to," he directs. "Now...where's Brandon?" Crawling awkwardly on one hand and his knees, he discovers that the pocket they're in is very small indeed, and he hits Brandon within several feet. "Hey, Brandon..." Feeling around the younger man's form, he feels that he's not pinned. Shifting his hand to Brandon's head, he feels the blood. Further down he feels a torn shirt and more wounds.

Brandon groans again, trying to move.

"Take it easy," Con directs. "Can you hear me?"

Brandon mumbles something in response.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Ev...everywhere."

Con grimaces. It was bad. "You just relax. We're going to get out of here."

"Whe...where's....here?"

That was a good question. Con had no idea where they were. Whether they had gone straight down, how far down they were, or anything. "Underground."

Suddenly the earth shakes, a rumbling heard from above. Dust and small bits of debris fall from the low ceiling, threatening at a cave-in. Con's eyes rove upward, but it does no good. There is no light.

"I smell gasoline," Dean comments.

"Me too...might be the dozer close by." With Dean closeby, Con feels he's in between the two men, and turns to sit crosslegged with Brandon's head in his lap. He could only hope that people were looking for them. And if they were, that they would tread lightly. The sound of shifting rubble proved how unstable this little cavern was.


The day drags by oh, so slowly. Nothing changes. No news. Any inquiries to the construction site prove to only show that rescue workers were still trying to clear rubble. Nothing had been found…no one had been found.


“…More than forty-eight hours has passed on the site of Titan Inc, and rescue efforts continue.”

The television shot zooms in on the site to show how far workers have been. Rubble is still everywhere. The bulldozer has been dug up and is now removed, but rocks and earth is everywhere. People are crawling all over, the scene still chaotic.

Justine’s voice continues. “The hearts of those at Titan Inc go out to the family and friends of the three men who were buried under this cave-in. Those three were Dean Houghes, Brandon Hicks and Conrad Gibbs.” She looks sorrowfully at the camera. “Though rescuers continue to work as fast as they can, hopes are not high.”

The shot moves to one of the rescue workers who had been questioned the night before. “…If they actually survived the fall itself without being killed by the debris and fell into a ‘pocket,’ oxygen would quickly run out. Though we still want to keep hope, it’s impossible that anyone is still alive…”

Jason turns away from the break room counter and leaves the room without a word. It had been like this for two days. Everyone seemed to spend all their waking hours in front of the television. And with every minute that passed, hope dwindled. There was no way that Con was still alive.

Jason trudges to his office and sinks down into his chair. He hadn’t slept in two nights…all he wanted to do was go down to that site and physically help look for those three men…but he couldn’t, and he felt like a caged animal. He’d hardly spoken to anyone, not even Katie, swallowing his emotions.


Laura lowers her eyes to the break room table. She had prayed…how she had prayed. And yet it seemed the inevitable was happening. She was losing her brother, and her hope was but a weak thread. No matter how sudden…with the passing of days, she was already preparing herself for the worst news.


Scott leans against the wall, tired of watching the news, but unable to keep himself from it. It seemed everything at TJY had halted, everyone on edge about the accident. He looks over to Katie, the worry evident in his eyes. He knew how hard this was on her too, but they’d hardly talked about it at all, each afraid of imagining the worst.


“How long has it been?”

Con doesn’t bother opening his eyes to Dean’s voice. “I don’t know…” He draws in his breath slowly.

Brandon groans a little and shifts his weight. “I…it’s hard…to…breathe.”

Con rests a head on Brandon’s forehead. “Don’t talk…” They all knew they were running out of oxygen. They were growing more tired and losing their strength quickly now.

Brandon insists on speaking. “Tank…Con…you…you know….I…you know about…about God…” he starts to cough, one of many fits during the last long while.

Con’s arm has grown completely numb and he quirks an eyebrow. “Yes I do.” He could tell from the tone of Brandon’s voice that the young man was afraid he was going to die. “Do you?”

“No.” Brandon’s tone quivers. “I…I want to…If I…I mean…” He pauses, drawing a ragged breath. “I can’t stand the pain…”

“I know…” Con feels with his hand to find Brandon’s fingers. “You’ll be alright.”

“No..it’s…it’s over…but…but I…how do I…I don’t want to die not knowing...I’ll…”

“Shh,” Con quiets him. He had little strength left, but for a moment, his spirit grew strong. “Jesus took care of that a long time ago…”

…Con rests his head back against the dark wall. He wondered how realistic it really was now that anyone could find them. But he had a new brother in Christ, and if they died tonight, Con knew why he’d been here.

“Con…” Brandon’s hand suddenly tightens over his. “I…” his voice drops off, his grip loosening.

“Brandon…Brandon?” Con moves down to put an ear to the young man’s chest.

Dean’s concern increases. “Tank?”

Con grits his teeth. “He’s passed out…he doesn’t have much time, Dean…we’ve got to get out of here.”

“How much time do WE have left?”

Con doesn’t want to think about it. “Not much…not enough air…” He draws in a shallow breath. Suffocating was not on his top list of favorite ways to die.


Wyatt shifts his glass around on the table at Mom and Pop’s, his eyes downcast. Sitting across from Aerith brought a certain amount of peace, but with everything else going on, it was as if a dark cloud loomed above everything. He’d checked in on her often, knowing that she was alone at Jamie’s, and so far everything had seemed alright. But why did such a tragedy like Con’s have to happen?


Angelica,
In case it hasn't reached national news, I'm writing to let you know about a terrible accident involving Con Gibbs. He and two other men have been trapped under a collapse on a construction site for more than two days, and rescuers fear that no one is alive. Everyone at TJY has been in a fog, even though Con doesn't work here anymore.
I just thought you should know...your prayers are appreciated.
Hope this note finds you well.
-Mike R.