He woke up coughing dust and spitting out small pebbles. The tunnel behind was sealed shut with the same debris that was scattered over him and partially covered the man he'd been running from. A quick once-over confirmed he hadn't broken anything major, maybe bruised a couple of ribs from the impact.
The same couldn't be said for his pursuer and the pool of congealed blood around his head.
As always, curiosity got the better of him and he staggered to his feet to see if the other was actually dead or just unconscious- a decision he regretted as soon as he caught sight of the large chunk missing from the man's head.
Luckily the pain from his ribs outweighed his need to vomit and a few painful minutes of dry-heaving later he straightened up as best he could. The wooden beams along the tunnel showed he was still somewhere within the old mine, possibly close to a ventilation shaft if the faint breeze was anything to go by - and it was all he had to go by, having been chased so far from the mapped out areas.
He limped onwards, trying to follow the breeze as he scanned the walls for miner's marks or any signs of life that could lead him back to the surface. The walls were so bare they almost looked new, in fact the timberstill carried the faint scent of pine unlike the rest of the old beams holding up the mine.
The further he went, the stronger he felt that he was being watched. No matter how many times he checked behind him he still saw nothing, cursing his weak head torch and hoping he was just being paranoid or concussed or anything other than right.
He never once thought to move the dead man to see if he still lived in spite of his wounds.
He never thought to bury him or do anything that might make it harder for him to move.
He never made it all the way out of the ventilation shaft.
The same couldn't be said for his pursuer and the pool of congealed blood around his head.
As always, curiosity got the better of him and he staggered to his feet to see if the other was actually dead or just unconscious- a decision he regretted as soon as he caught sight of the large chunk missing from the man's head.
Luckily the pain from his ribs outweighed his need to vomit and a few painful minutes of dry-heaving later he straightened up as best he could. The wooden beams along the tunnel showed he was still somewhere within the old mine, possibly close to a ventilation shaft if the faint breeze was anything to go by - and it was all he had to go by, having been chased so far from the mapped out areas.
He limped onwards, trying to follow the breeze as he scanned the walls for miner's marks or any signs of life that could lead him back to the surface. The walls were so bare they almost looked new, in fact the timberstill carried the faint scent of pine unlike the rest of the old beams holding up the mine.
The further he went, the stronger he felt that he was being watched. No matter how many times he checked behind him he still saw nothing, cursing his weak head torch and hoping he was just being paranoid or concussed or anything other than right.
He never once thought to move the dead man to see if he still lived in spite of his wounds.
He never thought to bury him or do anything that might make it harder for him to move.
He never made it all the way out of the ventilation shaft.
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