Rescued By The Single Dad. Emily Forbes

noise to the sound of thousands of voices. At regular intervals a signal whistle blew and everyone downed tools and the mountain fell silent as they all held their collective breath and listened for any sound of survivors.

      But the site remained eerily quiet. There was nothing at all to hear.

      Even a concrete X-ray machine and thermal imaging equipment had so far failed to detect any trace of survivors.

      Perhaps today their luck would turn.

      At times he felt as though they were taking one step forward and two back. Between the fatigue and the lack of progress it was getting increasingly difficult to keep morale high. It was falling with every hour that passed but Pat knew that all it would take to lift everyone’s spirits would be to find just one survivor. Just one. But low temperatures and exposure to the elements, combined with potential injuries, meant they didn’t have a lot of time. Hypothermia, blood loss, fractures, organ damage—all of these could be fatal.

      He tried to focus on the positives. There had been no further landslides and the skies remained clear. They didn’t need snowfall to hamper their efforts.

      He knew the negatives still outweighed the positives but despite the negative outcome of their efforts so far he refused to give in. Someone must have survived.

      He swallowed the last mouthful of his breakfast before strapping himself into a harness in preparation for his stint working on the precariously steep slope. The mountain was wet, slippery and treacherous. His movements were slow and deliberate. It was imperative that he didn’t dislodge the earth or other debris beneath him as there was the risk of the rubble giving way and sending him, and others, plunging down the mountainside. The process was like a game of Jenga or pick-up sticks. Moving or even touching the wrong piece could cause other pieces to fall and the result could be disastrous.

      * * *

      He’d been working for several hours with just a short break when the Sunday morning chapel bells rang out over the mountain. They’d been advised that today’s service would give the volunteers, search-and-rescue crew and people who hadn’t been evacuated from the mountain an opportunity to say a prayer for the dead and the missing, and anyone who wished to could put down tools and attend.

      The site gradually went quiet as equipment was abandoned, machines switched off and work ceased as people made their way to the chapel.

      ‘Did you want to come to the service?’ Connor asked from his position alongside Pat.

      Pat shook his head. ‘You know I don’t believe in God.’ He’d given up on his tenuous belief two years ago when his prayers had gone unanswered. ‘I think my time is better spent here, searching, doing something more practical.’ He had a feeling something was about to happen. Something told him it was important to stay on site.

      ‘Fair enough. But you can’t search alone,’ Connor said as he carefully shifted another piece of concrete. ‘I’ll stay too.’

      Pat suspected a number of people were going to the chapel because they thought paying their respects was the right thing to do. He could understand their reasons but, in his mind, their attendance implied that they didn’t expect to find anyone alive. He wasn’t prepared to give up hope. Not yet. It was still possible. Each passing minute made it less likely but that was why it was so important to keep going. Until every missing person was accounted for, he wasn’t going to give up. He nodded briefly, acknowledging Connor’s offer. He wasn’t going to try to talk him out of it. Protocol dictated that they work in pairs. He needed Connor if he wanted to continue.

      The bells stopped ringing as the search zone was vacated, leaving Pat and Connor alone in their small section. They worked in silence, their movements methodical as they continued to clear their small area. As Pat pulled at a piece of broken and twisted window frame he heard a metallic ping. He threw the debris over his shoulder, assuming his movements had made the noise, but as the metal flew through the air he heard a second ping.

      He looked around the site. There were a few people still working but no one nearby. He knew that sound on the mountain carried long distances and echoed. The sound could have come from anywhere but in the silence that had descended on the site he felt his hopes lift.

      ‘Did you hear that?’ he asked Connor.

      ‘Hear what?’

      Pat was kneeling on the rubble but went completely still as he listened again.

      ‘What was it?’ Connor said.

      Pat held up a hand. ‘Hang on a minute.’ But there was nothing more.

      ‘Hello? Can you hear me?’ He called out across the site. He could hear the expectation and excitement in his voice. He waited, still and silent, and his heart skipped a beat as he heard a reply.

       ‘Can you hear…?’

      ‘There! That.’ He turned to look at Connor but his friend was shaking his head.

      ‘It’s just an echo.’

      Was it his imagination playing tricks? He was tired, they all were, but he knew it was something important. ‘I don’t think so.’ He called again. ‘Hello?’

       ‘Please. Help me.’

      Pat turned back to Connor. ‘Tell me you heard that?’

      Connor’s eyes were wide with surprise as he nodded.

      Pat grinned. He could feel his smile splitting his face in two. ‘We’ve got someone!’