I slumped to the floor. Here I was again - in danger, close to death. How much air did we have down here anyhow? I sniffed, tuning my senses. Hmm...Three hours worth.
Right on cue, Dad hollered out, "We only have three hours of oxygen!!" I could hear him throwing himself against the walls of his cell in a frenzy.
Thanks alot, great and mighty Last of the Timelords. Cause panic why don't you?
I felt the rough sand around me for anything, a door, a window...something. I finally pressed up. My hand slid through and sand poured down around me.
"Dad! It's soft on the ceiling!" I cried, plunging my other hand into it, squinting as sand fell in my eyes.
"Oh is it? Hey, well look at that, it is...."
Mum was crying. I pressed my ear to the sand.
"Mum? You all right?"
She sniffled, "Fine darling!"
She always got weepy when she was in cells. Something about being a prisoner scared the hell out of her.
"Don't worry, we're trying to find a way out!" I called.
Standing on tiptoe, I dug around in the sand above me, scrabbling for something - anything!
"How far up have you gotten?" I called to Dad.
What in the name of all things holy had he managed to do this time?