“I can’t. Adam told me not to stop till he told me to.”

“Get to the side of the wall.”

“Why?”

“Just do it!”

I did, shovel still in hand. Then from the distant ground, a sharp, serrated saw fell into the hole.

“Cut off the head of the shovel,” the mysterious voice commanded.

“What? Why?”

“Trust me.”

Bewildered, I obeyed. It wasn’t easy. The shaft on that shovel was thick and hard.

“Now what?” I asked.

“I’m getting you out of there.”

“How?”

“With this.”

A towering ladder descended into the hole. Only then did I realize how deep I’d dug. What’ve I been doing? I wondered, almost frightened.

“Climb the ladder,” the voice called. Seems stupid that he would point out the obvious, but I wonder if I would’ve climbed it otherwise.

I jumped onto the ladder, and hurried up as if the ground would swallow me—a new fear suddenly consumed me.

I reached the top, and was greeted by a man with a kind face and gentle yet penetrating eyes. He looked at me like a concerned father. “Do you realize what you were doing, son?”

He pointed over my shoulder. I turned around. At the head of the hole was an engraved gravestone—with my name!

A black dread clutched me, but was suddenly washed away by peace.

He’d saved me.

“Who…who are you?” I stuttered, suddenly speechless.

He put his hand on my shoulder and said, “My name is Emmanuel, and you work for me now.”

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