[ It's a long time before Gansey hears any sound that doesn't come from him. He knows, logically, that there's no way he'll break through this lid. It's too solid, too heavy. The thought that he may actually have been buried won't go away. He tries, over and over again, to tell himself that it's a dream, but if that's true, it's one he's stuck in.
After a while, he stops shouting. There's no point to it. No one can hear, and all it's likely doing is using his air up faster.
Despite that, every few minutes, he tries again. He calls once, twice, and then gives up until it gets too much. His fingers, bleeding, claw against the lid. How long does he have? What will it feel like, to die in here? He knows it's coming. He knows -
And then there's a voice. His own call cuts off and he listens again. He doesn't recognize it, warped as it is through layers of soil and wood. But it's a voice. There's a scramble while he pushes at the lid again, shoving up and up -
Until finally, something creaks, and comes loose. Enough soil has been cleared away for him to force it up, and then he's grabbing onto anything he can to pull himself out. Soil, rock, broken wood. It doesn't matter. If it's there, he's making a handhold from it. He scrambles out into the air, desperate to leave the box behind. His ears are still ringing.
But he's free. He drops his face into his hand, pushing sweat back from it and smearing it with soil at the same time. He doesn't even care; he's free.
And then he looks up, for his rescuer, and sees Adam Parrish standing above him. Disbelief slackens his jaw, and relief replaces it almost as fast. ]
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After a while, he stops shouting. There's no point to it. No one can hear, and all it's likely doing is using his air up faster.
Despite that, every few minutes, he tries again. He calls once, twice, and then gives up until it gets too much. His fingers, bleeding, claw against the lid. How long does he have? What will it feel like, to die in here? He knows it's coming. He knows -
And then there's a voice. His own call cuts off and he listens again. He doesn't recognize it, warped as it is through layers of soil and wood. But it's a voice. There's a scramble while he pushes at the lid again, shoving up and up -
Until finally, something creaks, and comes loose. Enough soil has been cleared away for him to force it up, and then he's grabbing onto anything he can to pull himself out. Soil, rock, broken wood. It doesn't matter. If it's there, he's making a handhold from it. He scrambles out into the air, desperate to leave the box behind. His ears are still ringing.
But he's free. He drops his face into his hand, pushing sweat back from it and smearing it with soil at the same time. He doesn't even care; he's free.
And then he looks up, for his rescuer, and sees Adam Parrish standing above him. Disbelief slackens his jaw, and relief replaces it almost as fast. ]
Adam. Thank Christ, I've never been so glad...
[ He reaches up. ]
Please get me out of here.