Page 49 of The Storm

I start to get up, but he grabs my wrist and holds me in place. “There is very little chance we’re somehow breaking out of here on our own.”

I clench my teeth. “Then what do you suggest we do?”

“Wait. Try the phone again. Somebody’s going to come. It’ll just take some time.”

I look around the darkness.

“But—”

“There’s nothing we can do.”

I swallow again.

“What if we run out of air?” I ask in a voice so low it’s more like a whisper. I don’t want to say it out loud. It feels like jinxing it.

“We won’t.”

“But—”

“It’s not airtight. I promise.”

“What about those stories of when kids climb into fridges and then suffocate?”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“But—”

“Stop, Blue. I promise, you don’t have to worry about air.”

I blow out a breath. “Okay.”

I yawn. It’s like this whole day is catching up to me all at once, and in a flash, I can barely keep my eyes open.

I lean my back against the shelf.

And breathe.

ELEVEN

INDY

I wakeup in complete darkness, slowly blinking my eyes open. I immediately remember where I am and why. No merciful moment of delusion, just an immediate plunge back into reality.

My head is in Nick’s lap.

I go very still when I realize.

I have no memory of how this happened. I don’t move a muscle. If I stay perfectly still I might wake up again and the situation will change, and I’ll be anywhere else.

Maybe I’m imagining it, but the air feels much thicker than it was before. Hotter. It’s almost as if I’m breathing the kind of air somebody breathes into your face. Used air. It’s warm and damp.

Nick’s thigh shifts under me. The muscle tenses beneath my cheek.

“You’re awake,” he says.

I turn on my back. I keep my head on his thigh, though.

“How long was I out?” I ask.