Page 63 of Julian's Curse

I didn’t knowhow long I sat there. It seemed the night had descended on us, even though there was no way of telling. Fatigued myself, I leaned against the wall of the shaft, my eyes never leaving Sophie as I continued to monitor her. Each breath she took seemed like a small victory. Trying to stay awake felt like the smart thing to do, in case someone was calling from theoutside. I didn’t know if my voice could carry all the way up, but I wasn’t going to let the chance slip away either.

I placed my hand on my stomach, gently speaking to the baby, my voice soft but filled with hope. I wondered if he or she could still be there, if the little life I carried was somehow still alive. At this point it seemed like an illusion already. “I am sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I hope you know I loved you beyond words. I would have never let you go.” My eyes welled up with tears. “Julian loves you too, he would have been beyond honored to be your dad.”

The silence around me was deafening, and in that moment, I couldn’t escape the crushing weight of helplessness. More time passed in excruciating fear, next to my friend who seemed almost lifeless.

“Lucie,” Sophie suddenly murmured, rolling to her side, her voice soft and distant. “I had a dream...” She paused, as if searching for the right words. “I think the white light is real. It felt like a tunnel, calling me with its warmth. I think it’s going to end soon.”

Her words sent a chill through me, a mixture of confusion and sheer dread.

“That’s it,” I muttered to myself, as I stood up, the desperation pushing me forward. I was about to go pee in the hole I’d dug earlier—my body had been holding on for too long. “I am going to get water in you,” I decided resolutely, turning my attention back to Sophie. She needed fluids, and no matter what it took, I wasn’t going to let her fade without doing everything I could to save her.

That’s when a sudden sound jolted us both—a faint scraping, followed by a distant thud. Next, we heard a creaking sound, like old wood bending, and the unmistakable growl of barking dogs. A flashlight suddenly flooded the shaft, slicing through the darkness like a beacon.

A rush of relief hit me all at once.

“Anybody down there?” A deep voice shouted, echoing through.

“We’re down here,” I bellowed back, certain the sound carried far enough for them to hear us. A man in a uniform, his face half-shadowed by the beam of his flashlight, started climbing down on a rope. “We’re coming.” Others seem to be waiting on top, ready to follow.

Too excited, I turned to Sophie, only to find her immobile, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow.

“Sophie?” I whispered urgently, shaking her gently. “Sophie, please stay with me. Help’s here, we’re going to get out.” I touched her cheek, my fingers trembling.

“Get a doctor here, now!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “She’s not waking up! Please, hurry!”

The men moved with practiced speed. The medic descended almost immediately, a large duffel bag in hand, and knelt beside Sophie. His hands moved swiftly over her body, searching for any sign of life. “No pulse,” he shouted, his words cutting me deep. Time slowed. My vision narrowed. My dearest friend, the woman I had fought to save, was slipping away, and there was nothing I could do but watch. Then I remembered Sophie’s words, how she’d insisted that we pray, and so I did so fast.

“Get the AED ready,” the medic barked, his voice commanding, unwavering. He reached into the duffel bag, pulling out the defibrillator with practiced ease. The sharp scent of antiseptic and the clatter of the equipment filled the shaft.

The AED whirred to life, the display screen flickering as it analyzed her heart rhythm. “No shock advised,” the machine chimed, then repeated: “No shock advised.” The flat line on the screen mocked us, the absence of life so glaring.

“Chest compressions,” the medic barked, and his hands pressed down hard, rhythmically, into Sophie’s chest. Her bodyjolted with each compression, but the line on the monitor stayed stubbornly flat. The medic didn’t stop, though—he just kept going, relentless.

“Nothing,” the woman assisting him said, her voice tinged with resignation. I couldn’t help but notice the glance they exchanged, one that spoke volumes—an unspoken acknowledgment that hope was slipping away.

“God, please don’t take her away. Not yet,” I said loudly. I touched her bracelet as if the cherished item could help the situation.

“Give it another shot,” the medic muttered, barely glancing at me, already back to his work. The AED beeped again, louder this time, more insistent.

“Shock advised,” the device suddenly announced.

“Come on, Sophie,” I whispered desperately, my voice breaking. Just then, I felt Julian’s arms wrap around me, pulling me gently into an embrace. “Baby,” he murmured, his voice soft and comforting. I let myself ease into his warmth, but my gaze never left Sophie. Julian’s scent wafted into my nose, comforting and familiar, grounding me in the midst of the chaos.I’ll be here through the darkest grief,he’d said. And he was.

The AED beeped again, this time louder, more insistent.

The monitor blinked once.

Twice.

And then, faintly but undeniably—there it was.

A flicker. A tiny, fragile pulse.

“She’s alive.” The medic blurted, as the nurse exhaled.

“We’ve got a pulse. Keep her breathing, we’re not out of the woods yet.” The medic instructed. “Beta blockers, now.”

I exhaled loudly. The nurse immediately sprang into action, grabbing the medication while the medic kept his hands on her chest, monitoring her vital signs with razor-sharp focus. Themonitor continued to show her heart beating. “Let’s get her to the hospital,” he instructed.

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