touch

I have no idea how much rubble is above me. I can't see anything, the darkness is impenetrable. I thought maybe my eyes would adjust to the sudden blackness, but ten minutes down here and I'm still blind to everything. There's no sound down here either. Perhaps its muffled by the enormous mass above me…I don't know.

I lift my wrist communicator to my mouth and call to whoever might be listening, the island, John, Mission Control…anyone. I don't get a response and feel a sinking feeling in my gut. I always told them to reply to messages quickly, efficiently. But then someone would have replied. So…either we are having problems communicating or maybe my communicator is damaged. Great.

I put out my hands into the blackness, feeling cold metal brush across my fingertips. Moving my hands around blindly, I can only imagine I'm encased by metal…maybe that's what protected me from being crushed by piles of crumbled building.

Wait…my hand comes into contact with something very different to the metal above me. At my side I feel something softer, when I rub at it, it crumbles at my touch. It feels kind of grainy so I deduce it must be dust or dry mud. Maybe if I picked at it, I might get some light in here…some fresh air…

Air. Oh God, I never even thought about that. Is there any air penetrating my tiny cove? I don't feel any cool, refreshing breeze, just warm stale air that I'm breathing out…faster and faster as I begin to feel my stomach clenching, my chest heaving…I'm breathing so hard I'm just filling this space with hot, sour air. I'm suddenly dizzied by panic and start scrabbling desperately at the dust substance. I just want out of here…

I give up pretty quickly when it becomes clear to me that this dust wall beside me is thick.

And I don't know how deep I'm buried.

And I might dig through it only to find more metal. I've given up on my own plans of saving myself. I'll just have to rely on the help of someone else.

I close my eyes, don't know why though since it is no different to what I see with my eyes open. I'm trying to remain calm. To think positive. We have the most sophisticated equipment in the world. We've got to be able to find one of our own easily, right? I mean, they're probably above me right now, triangulating my signal and preparing to dig for me. Any minute now I'm going to be out of here.

Unless…unless they don't know I'm stuck here. They're doing their own rescuing right now. Rescuing the very people that called for help. They won't even think about a brother that now needs a rescue. And when they do, it will probably be too late anyway. It's not looking good. Time is slowly running out for me.

My body feels like it has shut down. I don't taste the metallic blood welling in my mouth. I don't hear the faint shuffling of shifting rubble above me. I don't smell the burning from the fires above me. I don't see anything….nothing new there, but with ever other sense fading, it would have been nice to have something. I guess this is death then…or pretty close to it…not a comforting thought.

But then I feel something. A hand…it's dug through the rubble and now it searches for me, fingers batting clumsily at my arm, at my face. A finger pokes me in the eye, but it feels beautiful to me. In the tiny cramped space I manage to grab it, squeezing it as hard as I can, clutching this sudden and most welcome life-line, revelling in the absolute joy of a simple touch.

I know it's Virgil. Don't ask me how I know, I just do.

He squeezes back firmly, a gesture telling me I'm going to be okay. He's here and he's going to get me out, he's not going to let me go. I've never loved him as much as I do now.

The mass of contorted metal beams, smashed bricks and charred woodwork is quickly moved from above me and my senses are in overdrive. Light floods in and my eyes scream out in pain, the pupils constricting to tiny black pin holes. The muffled sounds are suddenly deafening and I try to shut them out.

But still there's his hand in mine. A constant gentle touch when everything else is going crazy around me.

Through the noise, the confusion, I hear his voice.

"Hey there." I opened one eye a crack and manage a tiny smile. He returns the smile, but I can see the worry and concern in his eyes.

"Hi Virg."

"We're going to get you home," he continues. "I just want you to relax…we're going to let you sleep for a while…" I feel a gentle pin prick on the top of my palm and almost instantly the sedation begins to work. His voice fades into silence, the light blurs before my eyes, before it begins to fade into black

The last sense I have before I become blissfully unaware of my own being, is the comforting touch of his hand clinging to mine.