Ancient Boundary Stone

Chris lay silently for a long time.  The pungent odor of raw gunpowder filled the cold, damp air and her pain-racked body felt as though it was suspended in space.

The groaning sound from the old rafters reminded her she had to get out before the mine caved in.  Slowly she began to move.  She became aware that the ditch she was in must be about two feet deep, but when she tried to crawl out, her hands, tied behind her back, threw her balance off.  She kept slipping back into the ditch.

Knowing she had to get her hands free, she began to work at the ropes binding her wrists.  They were looser than she had remembered.  She sat up and pulled at her restraints.  They didn’t give all the way but they did let her part her wrists enough so that she was able to slide her hands over her bottom, pull her legs through and have her arms in front of her.  She felt the knots on either wrist and knew that without a knife she would never be able to completely get them off.

Chris tried to stand, but her legs collapsed beneath her.  She ran her hands down her left leg, but stopped when her fingers felt holes torn in the knee of her jeans.  The skin beneath the pants was tender and she could feel grains of sand embedded in the raw, oozing scrapes.  For the first time she became aware that her knees were hurting.

Pulling herself out of the ditch, Chris lay flat on the musty ground.  The air around her was heavy and she was finding it hard to breathe.  She might as well be blind because no light seeped into this cave.  The men had been right.  The miners built these old mines like catacombs, wandering in every direction through the mountain.  The passages went up, down, straight; many were dead ends.  Without a light, finding her way out would take a miracle.  I believe God still performs miracles, she thought.