Page 57 of In Too Deep
They were trapped.
What had Lydia’s file said?Her father was a explosives expert.Looked like Jeremy must have picked up a few tricks from his dad.Then he’d led them into a trap and sealed their fate.They were buried alive.
Nine
Noah coughed, his lungs burning.His headlamp cut through the haze and dust still filling the air like fog.The beam caught thick particles suspended and swirling.The air tasted of crushed rock and minerals, bitter on his tongue.
Noah’s hands reached for Meg.He needed to touch her, to confirm she was real and whole and here with him.“Are you okay?Anything hurt?”He couldn’t keep his hand from brushing back her bangs as he checked her eyes for signs of concussion.
Her skin was dusty, a smudge of dirt across her cheek like war paint.
But her eyes were clear and focused.
Frightened, yes.Wide with fear.
But clear.
“I’m fine.”She blinked and pulled away slightly.She turned her headlamp on him, the beam bright in his face.“You were covering me during the blast.Let me check?—”
“I’m not hurt.”The memory of the small rocks bouncing off his back was already fading.One had been larger than the rest, the size of his fist.Had it been a square hit, he wouldn’t be standing.But it had glanced off his hip.
He’d check that bruise out later.If there was a later.
He stood and took a few steps toward where the entrance should be.
But even the thin crack of gray daylight that had been there before—that sliver of hope—was gone.Just darkness and the sound of water trickling somewhere above them, steady drips echoing.
“Stay here.”Noah pressed his palms against cold stone, pushing himself to his feet.His legs were unsteady.His ears were still ringing from the blast, high-pitched and persistent, like he was underwater.
He picked through the scattered rocks carefully and tested each step as he made his way toward where they’d entered.The rubble shifted under his boots, loose stones clattering down with each movement.
But instead of the familiar crevice that had led them into the chamber—the narrow passage they’d squeezed through—a solid wall of rubble towered before him and reached toward the ceiling.
Tons of broken sandstone.Some pieces as large as his torso.Others reduced to gravel that crunched underfoot.
The explosion had brought down the entire passage.
And worse, a new stream of water ran down from the center of the domed ceiling above and splashed onto the rocks below, then pooled at his feet, the cold seeping through his boots.
The blast must have cracked a new path for the rain runoff to find its way in.
His heart pounded in his ears, the blood rushing so loudly it drowned out even the tinnitus.This couldn’t be happening.
Not here.
Not with Meg trapped inside with him.
He pressed his palms against the wall of debris, the stone rough against his leather gloves.He felt for any gap, any void, any pocket of air that might suggest a way through.
The rocks were cold and solid beneath his touch and were wedged tight.
Even if he could move some of the smaller pieces—and that was a bigif—the larger boulders would take equipment—jacks, pulleys, a whole team with proper gear.
Things they didn’t have.Things outside while they were buried inside.
He had to get Meg out.Had to protect her from this.
The thought came sharp and desperate.
