That was the last thing I remembered hearing before I fell unconscious on the hard, unforgiving floor of Mineshaft 13.
We were behind schedule, and needed to make up precious time. The majority of us took this to mean hammering that familiar metal pick into the copper veins more quickly than usual. Someone on the mine-expansion team, however, foolishly took it upon himself to use five sticks of blasting dynamite instead of the regulated two. He should've known better; we had all warned about the dangers of blasting too quickly. We all heard it when it happened. The blast itself reached our ears as a rumbling sound, similar to that of a clap of thunder. And then, the mine went silent. In reality, it must've only been a mere five seconds of serenity, but to us, it was an eternity. For after this brief pause, the walls began to shake. The dusty, rusty lanterns, which had survived for so long on their tiny nails, began to swing violently. The boulders that made up the sides of the mine began to rumble, some coming loose from their tight placements. At this point, we knew there was no turning back. All quickly abandoned their equipment and made a mad dash for the ventilation shaft. Our rickety, wooden ladder, which had never been reliable to begin with, snapped like a stalk of celery under the weight of those first five miners who were trying to get out. That's when it happened. A support beam for the shaft, bulging out with the boulders it held back, finally gave way and collapsed. I tried to move, but it was only then that I noticed my foot had become trapped beneath the weight of an abandoned pick. The beam hit me square in the forehead.
I woke up only a few hours ago, shocked that I was still alive. I turned cautiously to survey what had become of the Mineshaft. To my surprise, not much damage had been inflicted on the outside. The main shaft entrance had its heavy iron doors locked tight, small wooden planks forming a danger cross in the middle. This ominous symbol, the meaning of which was all too devastating to me, marked the end of Mineshaft 13.
As I sit here, slowly drinking water from an old canteen, I look toward the now calm ventilation shaft. Only hours ago, this would've been a site of horror for those on the outside, and a gleaming ray of hope for those of us within. I realize that I still don't know who rescued me. Some brave soul down there, amidst the chaotic mess of scrambling miners, had the heart to carry my lifeless form out of the mine. I owe this mystery person my life.