In the white-knuckle, disaster-driven tradition that fans of EastEnders, Days of Our Lives, and Emmerdale know can turn everyday life into nightmare, catastrophe doesn’t always strike with warning. Sometimes it arrives as a single moment — a crack, a collapse, a scream swallowed by darkness. That is the terror now gripping Home and Away, as Summer Bay reels from a tunnel disaster that leaves Mali Hudson missing, unaccounted for, and feared trapped beneath tons of concrete.

The horror begins without spectacle. No sirens at first. No dramatic build-up. Just routine movement through a space people assumed was safe. Then the ground gives way. Lights fail. Dust fills the air. Panic explodes in seconds. The tunnel — once just another shortcut — becomes a sealed tomb, cutting off escape and plunging everyone inside into chaos.

When emergency crews finally arrive, the scale of the disaster becomes horrifyingly clear. Sections of the tunnel have collapsed entirely. Access points are unstable. Every step forward risks triggering further cave-ins. And as names are checked and headcounts taken, one truth lands with devastating force: Mali Hudson is missing.

Summer Bay freezes.

At first, there is denial. Maybe Mali got out another way. Maybe his name was missed in the confusion. Maybe he’s already at the hospital, unidentified. But as minutes stretch into hours, hope begins to fracture. Mali’s phone goes unanswered. No witness can confirm seeing him escape. And slowly, painfully, the community is forced to accept the possibility no one wants to voice out loud — Mali may still be inside.

For those who know him best, the waiting is unbearable. Every update from rescue teams feels both necessary and cruel. Progress is slow. Conditions are dangerous. The tunnel’s instability means time is not on their side. With each passing moment, the question shifts from where is Mali? to how long could anyone survive in there?

The emotional toll spreads fast. Summer Bay, usually defined by openness and sunlight, feels claustrophobic and suffocating. Conversations stop mid-sentence. People hover near phones, radios, screens — anything that might deliver news. And when updates do come, they are maddeningly incomplete. “Still searching.” “Structural risks.” “No confirmation yet.”

What makes the situation even more terrifying is the mystery surrounding Mali’s last known movements. Conflicting accounts place him in different parts of the tunnel. Some say he was helping others. Some believe he turned back when the first collapse hit. Others fear he may have been separated in the darkness. Each theory raises new fears — and new possibilities for how badly injured he could be.

Rescue scenes are shot with brutal restraint. No heroics. No guarantees. Just exhausted crews working against time, sweat streaked with dust, voices hoarse from shouting into voids that may or may not answer back. The silence inside the tunnel becomes its own antagonist — heavy, ominous, absolute.

At the hospital, the tension is just as suffocating. Loved ones wait in a space designed for healing, now repurposed for dread. Every door opening sends hearts racing. Every passing stretcher triggers a spike of fear. When survivors are brought in, relief is immediate — and instantly followed by guilt. Because Mali is still missing.

The storyline refuses easy comfort. No quick rescues. No miracle updates. Instead, it leans into uncertainty, forcing characters — and viewers — to live inside the waiting. That waiting becomes its own kind of trauma, exposing how fragile safety truly is.

As hours turn into a nightmarish vigil, darker questions begin to surface. Was this accident preventable? Were warnings ignored? Did someone cut corners? Anger simmers beneath the fear, searching for somewhere to land. Because if Mali doesn’t come home, Summer Bay will need someone — or something — to blame.

For those closest to Mali, hope becomes both lifeline and torment. They cling to stories of survival, to memories of his strength, to the belief that if anyone could endure the darkness, it’s him. But every rescue operation knows the truth: survival windows close fast, and the tunnel does not forgive.

This is where Home and Away mirrors the most devastating disaster arcs from EastEnders and Emmerdale — stories where the real enemy isn’t a villain, but time itself. The tension doesn’t come from confrontation, but from absence. Mali’s missing presence becomes louder than any scream.

As rescue efforts continue, the show begins preparing viewers for multiple outcomes — none of them easy. If Mali is found alive, he will not emerge unchanged. Trauma will follow him out of the tunnel. If he is not found, Summer Bay will be forced to grieve a loss that came without warning or goodbye.

The final moments of the arc don’t offer resolution. They offer fear crystallised into a single question that echoes through every scene, every waiting face, every silent phone:

Is Mali Hudson still alive — or has Summer Bay already lost him?

Because in the darkness beneath the tunnel, time is running out… and not every mystery ends with rescue.