Chapter 9 - The Rescue
On the ninth morning, the silence of the basement was shattered by the sharp, metallic scrape of iron shovels.
"Over here!" a voice shouted from above. "I see a void in the concrete! Grab the jacks!"
The sound of heavy machinery roared to life. A massive chunk of the ceiling shifted, letting in a blinding, horizontal shaft of real, natural sunlight. It was so bright it made their eyes water, a brilliant, golden light that cut through the dark tomb.
"We have survivors!" a voice yelled down the shaft.
But as the light filled the room, Julian saw the uniforms of the rescue team. They wore the grey insignia of the Resistance.
Two rescue soldiers slid down the rope, their rifles raised, their faces tense as they scanned the darkness. They immediately saw Kaelen, then their eyes locked onto Julian’s green Alliance uniform.
"Alliance!" one of the rescuers yelled, raising his rifle, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Get back, Kaelen!"
"No! Don't shoot!" Kaelen roared.
With a strength that shocked the rescuers, Kaelen threw himself in front of Julian, his body shielding the wounded soldier.
"Put your weapons down!" Kaelen screamed, his voice echoing off the concrete. "He is not the enemy! He is my brother! He saved my life, and I saved his! If you take him, you take me!"
The rescuers froze, looking at Kaelen’s fierce, protective stance, then at Julian, who was lying weakly in the dirt, holding Kaelen’s daughter's drawing in his hand.
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Slowly, the rifles were lowered.
"We need a medical stretcher," one of the rescuers said quietly into his radio. "We have two of our own down here."
