Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)(56)
Motherf*cker.
If anyone had been stuck aboveground when those missiles hit, they’d be dead by now.
He shoved that worry aside and concentrated on their immediate predicament.
So far the tunnel they were in was holding up remarkably well. No doubt its stability had much to do with the fact that the concrete cylinder was buffered by twenty feet of soil. With luck, they would make it to the hub, and its natural rock protection, before the stress started to show.
Slowly the explosions above dwindled. Several minutes of heavy breathing and pounding feet followed. Christ, they were making more noise than a crowd of panicked civilians. He strained to hear anything from aboveground.
Had the chopper left yet?
“Do you think the helicopter left?” Amy rasped from behind him.
His skin tightened as an eerie chill worked its way through him. Her question was identical to his. Apparently they’d been wondering the same thing at exactly the same moment.
Doesn’t mean a damn thing.
A milky, wavering light down the tunnel brought a welcome distraction.
“Wait.” He slowed, easing his weapon from his waistband. “We’ve got company.”
“Our people?” Amy asked in a low voice from behind him.
“Probably.” But it never paid to take chances, and they couldn’t be a hundred percent certain the tunnel system had remained secret. He sighted his flashlight and Glock on the bouncing circle of light.
If the kids really had been physically tagged, and the tracking devices were still transmitting, then the bastards above them knew their targets were belowground. Hell, maybe someone had gotten lucky, stumbled across an outside entrance in the woods, and come looking for them.
In which case they were about to be welcomed with a couple rounds to the chest.
“Sweet Jesus.”
The horrified whisper leaked around the flashlight in his mouth as Rawls stared down at the fresh mound of dirt—the dirt that had buried Faith’s last dose of Cordarone. He’d had the pill out and on the way to her lips when a section of the ceiling had sheared off, dropping a fresh load of earth on top of them and knocking the capsule from his fingers.
Even if he had the time, sifting through that mound of dirt in the hope of finding one small pill was a useless endeavor. And he couldn’t afford the time.
Partially buried beneath the flash flood of soil and chunks of concrete, Faith released the softest of sighs and slumped against her makeshift bed. The sound jolted him from his disbelieving stupor. He lifted his chin until the beam of light caressed her face, and pressed his fingers against the side of her neck. Her pulse was thready. But she was alive. Thank Christ for that at least.
But they needed to get out of there. The crumbling concrete would weaken the ceiling even further—it wouldn’t be long before the whole damn thing came down.
He started to reach for the duffle bag beside him, when another series of detonations rocked the compound above. The tunnel rocked and rolled, and that ominous groan rumbled above.
There isn’t time to grab Faith and the bag.
He switched directions in midswoop and dragged Faith’s good arm over his shoulder. Lifting her into a fireman’s hold, he shot to his feet, flashlight still clenched between his teeth. Dirt cascaded down on him like a waterfall, burying his legs up to his thighs.
His muscles hot and fluid beneath a burst of adrenaline, he drove forward, pushing the earth to the sides and front, carrying Faith’s silent, still body along with him. He broke through the front of the dam as another explosion rocked the world above.
Those bastards sure do love their explosions.
The tunnel shuddered, the walls and floor contracting and then expanding beneath the shock wave.
The first two detonations had almost buried them alive; they might not survive this third one. With every ounce of strength he possessed, he plowed forward, his arm a vise around Faith’s legs, straining to catch the slightest sound from the limp body atop his shoulders.
Nothing.
Crackcrackcrackcrackcrack—
The series of sharp pops overhead plunged ice into his veins. He lunged forward, his flashlight beam bouncing from undulating wall to undulating wall.
The cracks gave way to groans, which escalated to a deafening roar. Thud after thud sounded behind him, followed by an eerie sibilant hiss. A cloud of dust rolled over and past him, the gray flecks swirling within the halo of his flashlight beam. Silence fell. Shrouded the tunnel in stillness.
Deep. Dense. Stillness.
His lungs laboring to find air within the thick, dry mist, Rawls milked another burst of speed from his heavy legs. The explosions had stopped. So had the rocking and rolling under his feet. Beyond the drifting dust particles, the tunnel walls were hazy, but motionless.
He concentrated on Faith’s dead weight atop his shoulders. Her lifeless, silent body. No movement. No sound. He needed to assess her condition. But while the imminent threat of burial had faded, it hadn’t vanished completely. One more blast directly above could jolt the structure into collapse again. If he stopped to assess her condition, he could be sacrificing both their lives.
They needed to navigate the rest of the tunnel and get into the safety of the caves ASAP. Their lives might depend on it.
Gritting his teeth, he kept moving.
But the body he was rushing to safety showed no signs of life. What was the use of escaping to the hub if Faith didn’t survive the journey? His scalp tightened. Burned.