Time slipped past in fragments. Fifteen minutes. Thirty. An hour. Hope began to thin. Someone muttered about the light fading. Another stumbled and swore under their breath. The deeper they went, the thicker the tension grew. Lisa felt it like a pressure in her chest.
As the sun dipped lower, shadows deepened. Lisa wiped sweat from her brow. Her knees ached. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm in her throat. She refused to cry—not yet. Not in front of these people. But the weight of not knowing was unbearable.