Page 34 of One Kind Hand

Instead of a bad guy, however, a loud cracking sounded. Austin’s head whipped to his left then his gaze hit the camera head-on.

Which was weird and out of character.

A moment later, another rumble filled the set and the manufactured street caved in, leaving a massive sink hole. Dust and debris replaced Austin’s image on the underground camera screens, his flashlight beam extinguished.

Charlie was on her feet before anyone else. She raced ahead of others who were rushing to the collapsed street, jumping over anything in her way. Man, she wished she weren’t wearing Isabel’s fancy shoes, but she didn’t let them slow her down. Austin was trapped down there and she wasn’t wasting a second.

She reached the manhole area first. No one was close enough to stop her from using the cable to shimmy down into the tight cylinder. Her feet hit the bottom and she was running again, her memory of what she’d watched on the cameras leading her directly to where she’d last seen Austin.

Charlie stopped short when she came upon the rubble. Large chunks of pavement were stacked at odd angles, bits still dropping from the ground above and dust clouding the air.

With a wary eye on the hole above her, Charlie edged closer, scanning the pile of debris for any signs of Austin. She found the cable and followed it toward the wreckage, voices reaching her from above and behind as others assessed the situation.

“Charlie?” someone called from above the hole. “Do you see him?” It sounded like Cody.

“Not yet. Stand by.” She’d slipped into rescue mode and had no doubt that someone above had called 911.

Tugging gently on the cable, she was rewarded with a moan then her gaze landed on a hand poking from the ruins. She climbed the broken pavement chunks until she could reach the hand.

“Austin!” She clamped her hand around his, but she didn’t get the reassuring squeeze she’d been hoping for.

****

Trapped. That was the last thought Austin had registered before getting whacked in the back of his head and sinking into unconsciousness. He’d been trapped before. At eighteen. When his parents had taken him for a special birthday weekend in Cape Cod. They’d left his sisters back home in New York and he’d relished the opportunity to have his parents all to himself for once. That never happened. With five children, his working parents barely had time to take a piss let alone give one of their kids individual attention. They’d been wonderful parents though. No question about that. They’d provided for their family and Austin had always felt loved, but moments like that birthday celebration had been cherished occasions.

They’d let him choose the restaurant the first night they’d arrived at the Cape and he’d gone for one that was known for its seafood. Located right on the ocean, it offered a wonderful view and an incredible sea-salt scent that had filled his lungs. They’d enjoyed a fabulous meal and discussed Austin’s college plans. He’d gotten a scholarship to attend the University of Rhode Island and intended to pursue a degree in psychology. Human behavior had always fascinated him. His parents had gushed once again at how proud of him they were, him being the first of the Rayhill children to embark on the college journey. That night had felt like the first time Austin’s parents had truly considered him an adult, someone they could talk to as they would a peer. A shift had occurred in their relationship and he’d liked it.

Until they’d driven back toward their hotel. And the rain pelted the streets. And the streets grew slick. And—

“Austin!”

His eyes snapped open and it took Austin a few seconds to remember where he was. When he was. He wasn’t in Cape Cod. He wasn’t with his parents. He’d never be with them again.

“Austin! Can you hear me?”

He tried to answer but when he drew in a deep breath, his lungs became filled with dust and he ended up coughing instead. Something had hold of his hand so he squeezed.

“He squeezed my hand,” the same voice said. A woman’s. Familiar.

Other muffled voices sounded, but Austin couldn’t make out what they were saying. Where the fuck was he? It was so dark, he couldn’t see any details. His arm hurt. It was bent at an uncomfortable angle, but when he moved it, the hand around his tightened. His head hurt too and he lifted it a little, wincing when it brushed against something solid above him.

He took his free hand and reached up. His palm ran over uneven pavement. As soon as that sensory detail hit his brain, everything clicked into place. He’d gone down that manhole to do the scene and the street above had crashed into the tunnels. None of that had been in the damn script.

Fuck. He was trapped under pavement. How the hell hadn’t he been crushed to death? As his eyes adjusted more, a sliver of light seeping through a seam revealed the two large pieces of pavement around him that had fallen in an opportune way. One piece was propped up by the other, creating a triangle big enough for him to be on his knees under it.

Except his right arm hadn’t made it safely into the triangle.

“Be careful,” the female voice said, full of authority. “When you move that piece, be prepared to support the other one.” Another squeeze on his hand made him happy to be connected to the outside. “How are you doing in there, Austin?”

He squeezed back again then felt a second hand surround his. Her touch was warm and comforting.

“Stick with us a bit longer,” she said.

He took in another breath, hoping to be able to reply, but he only ended up coughing again.

“Don’t try to talk,” she said. “And cover your head as much as possible. You don’t want to damage that face.”

Charlie? She was down here? With him? Holding his hand?