The rifle slipped from Arthur's shoulder, disappearing into the black void below. "Goddammit!" he snarled, watching it vanish.
The tower groaned, metal screeching as it shifted under their weight. Arthur hauled himself out of the wreckage, his boots scrambling for purchase on the twisted beams.
"ARTHUR!" Emily screamed, her voice raw with terror. "PLEASE! HELP ME!"
"I got you, just hold on!" he called back, his voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through him.
"I CAN'T HOLD ON FOREVER!"
"Then don't. Just hold on long enough!" His tone sharpened, cutting through her panic. She went silent—for a second. Then the begging started again.
"Arthur, please, just—just do something! Don't think, just ACT!"
"I am actin', woman, now let me think for half a damn second!"
The tower shuddered, another cable snapping somewhere above.
Arthur exhaled hard. "Alright. Don't move. I'm gonna pull you up. You're gonna be fine."
"NOW will you PLEASE get me off this goddamn tower?! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, ARTHUR! JUST DO SOMETHING!"
He gritted his teeth and reached for her, stretching as far as he could. "Grab my hand!"
Their fingers brushed—then finally locked.
For one brief, hopeful moment, he thought he had her.
Then the tower lurched.
Emily screamed as her grip slipped, her weight yanking Arthur forward. He barely had time to curse before they were both falling, the world tilting violently as the tower collapsed further into the mines.
Emily's scream echoed through the mines as she swung wildly, her fingers just barely catching the rung of a fallen ladder.
"Oh... Jesus... Shit. OH SHIT! DAMMIT!"
The rope around her ankle snapped the moment she grabbed hold, sending debris tumbling into the abyss below.
"Alright..." she panted, steadying herself.
She monkey-barred across the broken ladder, muscles burning—until a falling object whizzed past her head.
"SHIT! SHIT!"
Her grip failed.
She fell, landing hard on a ledge beside Arthur's unconscious form. Above her, the remains of the fire tower groaned, then collapsed toward them.
"ARTHUR!" She scrambled to shake him awake.
He groaned, blinking up at her. "You okay?"
"Yeah, but what about you?"
"Second damn time today," he muttered, rubbing his head.
Then—CRACK.
A chunk of rock from the tower slammed into Emily's shin.
"AGH—FUCK!" She kicked back, barely avoiding the ledge as the entire section broke away, Arthur rolling clear at the last second.
Panting, she stared at the wreckage of her favorite top—now torn and useless.
"Oh God. Here goes six hundred bucks..." She sighed. "Better be worth it. I looked great in that top."
Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "Six hundred—? Christ, woman, you coulda bought a horse for that!"
Emily smirked, then ripped the remains of her top off, wrapping it around a stick. She doused the end in oil from a broken lantern and held it to a flickering flame, creating a makeshift torch.
Arthur watched, then—with a quiet chuckle—pulled a spare cloth from his satchel and did the same.
Emily froze. "...You had one this whole time?"
He shrugged, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. "Didn't wanna interrupt."
She threw a rock at him.
They pressed deeper into the caverns, the flickering torchlight casting eerie shadows on the walls. A noise echoed ahead.
Both froze.
Then, cautiously, continued.
"So," Arthur said, voice low. "You, uh... rip expensive clothes off often?"
Emily snorted. "Only when I'm plummeting into abandoned mines with cowboys."
"Hmph. Lucky me."
She shot him a look—was he flirting?
Before she could call him on it, a sign loomed ahead:
ELEVATOR →
Nearby, Emily spotted a dusty photo pinned to the wall.
A group of miners—the "Blasting Crew"—stood stiffly in front of the North West Mines, dated 1951.
"These the guys from the sanatorium?" she asked.
Arthur studied their faces. "Some of 'em, maybe. Rest are probably still down here."
A cold draft whispered through the tunnels.
Emily's grip tightened on her torch. "Let's not meet them."
Arthur nodded, revolver already in hand. "Amen to that."
******
Emily yanked the lever, sending a mine cart hurtling down the tracks. It smashed through the locked door with a satisfying CRASH, splintering wood and sending dust flying.
"Hell yeah," she grinned, stepping through the wreckage.
They reached the elevator—rusty, ancient, and very much not working.
Emily jammed the button. Nothing.
"Shit. Okay. How do we get this thing on?"
Then—a scream.
Fire erupted somewhere deeper in the mines, the sudden blaze illuminating the tunnels in flickering orange.
"Ah! What?! What the hell?" Emily spun, heart pounding.
Arthur's hand went to his revolver. "Ain't natural."
A DANGER sign hung crookedly on the wall:
WARNING: STRUCTURAL COLLAPSE
Emily groaned. "Fuckin' busted elevator's our only way out."
Arthur spotted a ladder leading upward. "Up here."
He motioned for Emily to go first.
She raised an eyebrow. "Starting to think you just wanna look at my ass."
Arthur coughed, suddenly very interested in the mine walls. "Just climb, woman."
She smirked and started up. Near the top, she set her torch down on the ledge—
SNAP.
The ladder broke.
They plummeted, cursing, crashing onto a lower level in a heap of limbs and dust.
"FUCK!!! Ugggh... god damn..." Emily groaned, rubbing her back.
Arthur sat up, wincing. "For a lady, you curse like a damn sailor."
"For a cowboy, you complain like one," she shot back.
Emily pulled out her phone, tapping the screen. A bright light flared to life—Arthur's eyes widened. What kind of sorcery—?
The beam landed on a pile of skulls.
"NO! NO NO NO!! GROSS, GROSS, GROSS! Oh God. UGH. Disgusting...!" She scrambled back, nearly dropping the phone.
Arthur sighed. "Seen worse."
"That's not comforting!"
They pressed on, finding a wooden fence blocking their path. Nearby, a family photo lay in the dirt—Billy Bates, his wife, and daughter, dated 1951. "Hurry home safely Daddy
Love Agnes and Louise"
Emily picked it up, her throat tight. "They never saw him again, did they?"
Arthur didn't answer.
A miner's hat and a broken ladder littered the ground. They climbed a rock wall instead, hauling themselves onto a ledge.
Emily's phone buzzed.
"No no no—" She tapped frantically. "Son of a bitch.
The screen went black.
Darkness swallowed them—until firelight flickered in the distance.
"Jesus, shit!" Emily grabbed her torch, reigniting it.
She spotted a power switch and pulled it.
Lights flickered—
"Something works, at least," Arthur muttered.
—then died.
Emily shot him a death glare. "You jinxed it."
He held up his hands. "Didn't mean to."
"Uh-huh."
They descended the stairs, the mines groaning around them.