Chapter 35

Three Knocks

Further down I dove. By this time, I was getting much better at the whole “shimmy down the chute” routine. Emerging into the next fissure large enough to enter, I pulled for more slack on the rope. Only a few feet in and I knew the time had come again to call for silence up top. It had been a couple of hours since I last made the request. I was extremely careful to not abuse the privilege to call for silence. When I came upon an area like this, that I felt needed further exploration, but would take many hours to physically search opening by opening, I knew it was time to engage the protocol. 

Calling up, I checked with my middleman, Chris, to make sure he was in contact with the men above and could request silence. He confirmed we were good to go. Once I received an affirmative, “We’re ready,” from above, I positioned myself in the place that provided the best vantage point, both visually and aurally, or at least to the best of my judgment. 

“I need silence,” I called out.

The command was relayed up and out. Once again, the sound of silence bore down on me like the weight of the world. My heart rate quickened. It was so quiet I could hear every random creak. My heart pounding out of my chest was the loudest sound in that tight claustrophobic space. I’m surprised Chris couldn’t hear it from where he was. 

I calmed myself and using every ounce of diaphragm-supported vocal technique I could muster, I called out, “If you can hear me, say, ‘yes.’”

Absolute stillness. I heard nothing. The only movement I saw were the suspended particles drifting through my flashlight beam.

I barked as loud as I could, “If you can hear me, say something—anything.”

Still nothing. So, following the procedure I had been taught, I moved to the next level.

“If you can hear me, knock three times!”

The world stood still for a moment. Then it happened. A miracle happened thirty meters below the rubble. Three distinct knocks. For a split second, I thought I was experiencing auditory hallucinations. I listened closely, in case they made more sounds. Nothing else came. 

Then I called up to Chris, “Did you hear that?”

“The knocks?” he replied.

“You heard them too?” I asked, excitedly. 

“Oh yeah—three knocks.”

I thought, I’m not hallucinating or hearing things. Somebody is alive. Maybe not for long. They couldn’t respond vocally so they must be in bad shape.

My heart exploded. And with Chris’ confirmation, I began moving in the direction from which the sound originated. The echoes, vibrations, and reverberations traveling through the vast network of pipes, metal bars, beams, cement, and shattered office furniture was as disorienting as the lack of daylight. I called for the person to knock three times again. This time the sound was fainter. Honestly, I couldn’t tell whether I was getting further away or if the knocking itself was weaker.

Frantically, I pulled myself forward on my belly, sweeping the flashlight into every crevice and gap I could find.

“I’m coming! Hang in there!” I shouted to my new, unseen friend.

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