“Is someone out there?” he shouted.

For a few seconds, nothing.

Then a weak voice drifted through the rain.

“Please…”

Daniel ran toward an abandoned structure and found an old drainage pit—deep, dry, and choked with rocks, trash, and broken branches.

He aimed his flashlight down.

And forgot how to breathe.

His mother was at the bottom.

Mrs. Helen was curled against the wall, barefoot, a soaked shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Dried blood streaked her forehead. Her lips were purple, and both her hands were covered in cuts and scrapes.

“Mom!”

Daniel climbed down as best he could, gripping a rusty chain tied to a post. His palms tore open and his back slammed into the wall, but he didn’t feel any of it until he reached her.

The old woman barely got her eyes open.

“My boy… I thought nobody was ever coming.”

Daniel wrapped his arms around her. Her body was so cold and so light he was afraid he might break her.

“I’m here now. I’m not leaving you.”

With the help of a truck driver who’d stopped after hearing his shouts, he finally got her out almost forty minutes later.