Some believe that the light is heaven. Some say it has to do with the brain’s electrical impulses. When somebody is having a difficult time, they might get the advice, “Oh, don’t worry, there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel,” meaning things will get better. I’m not so sure about that. We stood in what looked like a long tunnel, but I couldn’t be entirely certain because it was very dark in there. A pinprick of light glowed at the end, far away. Here’s what I knew. My shoes and socks were soaking wet. And I could barely see Tyler standing next to me, but I could hear him breathing. “Where . . . ?” That was the only word I was able to utter. It felt as if I’d been punched in the stomach and I couldn’t quite find my breath. That one word echoed down the stone walls. Where? Where? Where? “We’re not in Kansas anymore,” Tyler whispered. Then he let go of the bag and whipped around. “Hey, wait a minute. What are you doing here?” His booming voice echoed so loudly, I winced.
