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Follow me then
After a tense moment, the man’s expression softened. Slowly, he lowered the pickaxe. “Alright,” he muttered. “Follow me, then.” He turned and shuffled toward another tunnel. Brody and Mike glanced at each other, then followed. As they walked, the man spoke. “Name’s Bob. I’ve been here forty-some years. Found gold back in the eighties… and never left.” His voice carried both pride—and the weight of isolation.
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