The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion #2)(87)

When he reached the aircraft it was nearly completely submerged. He was forced to dive and pull himself along the hull toward the ruined cockpit. The severe damage made it easy for him to slip through the ruined canopy and swim inside. One look toward Scoggins revealed she was dead. Swimming past her, he pulled himself through the dark interior. Only the lights from his helmet illuminated his way. Loud metallic groans sent vibrations through the water and the entire craft shuddered. There was a sickening sound of rending metal and Torran grabbed onto a handhold just as the back of the tiltrotor separated from the front.

“Internal suit oxygen is about to expire,” his armor announced in a cold, emotionless voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered.

Once the tiltrotor settled again, he swam through the large gap between the broken pieces of the wreckage and pulled himself into the rear of the craft.

“Warning. You have only thirty seconds of oxygen remaining.”

Torran had to shove some broken equipment and debris out of his way, but he managed to enter the passenger area. Immediately, he saw it was listing hard to one side, and there was a dwindling air pocket above him. Kicking upward, he broke the surface and tried to orient himself.

The closest squad member to him was clearly dead. Debris had impaled him. The second was also dead. A good portion of a console had imbedded itself in her head. Pulling himself toward the section still elevated above the water, Torran observed that most of the squad was beneath the surface. The harnesses had not released and they were still strapped down. A few were thrashing, attempting to get free. Torran reached up and grabbed one of the manual releases and tugged on it. The handle would not budge. Pulling harder, he grunted with the strain. It didn’t relent. Tugging his weapon above the water, he flipped on the light. It illuminated the release and Torran swore.

It appeared to be welded in the locked position.

Again the tiltrotor moaned as it sank deeper into the river. The water rose several inches and Torran pressed his lips tightly together. The struggling soldiers beneath the waves were weakening.

“Shit!” he swore.

“Torran?”

“Linds!”

Immediately, he started pulling himself toward the sound of her voice. Other soldiers reached for him, realizing he was there to rescue them. Only a few heads were above the water line. Lindsey was in her seat, but it had been dislodged from the floor and listed against the wall.

“You need to help her,” another voice said.

It was Franklin. She was sawing away at her harness with a knife that was definitely not regulation. She was nearly free. Next to her Hobbes was unconscious and sinking into the water.

“Save who you can when you’re free, Franklin,” Torran ordered, then swam past her to Lindsey.

Tangled in wiring and pinned by her seat, Lindsey’s fingers were tugging at the harness release. “Torran, what are you doing here?” Her voice sounded strained and tiny through the exterior speaker of her helmet.

“Came for you,” he answered. Replacing her hands with his own, he attempted to unlock the straps holding her captive.

“Save the others,” she said. “They’re dying. Drowning. I can hear them through the comm.”

“Linds, I can’t save them. The emergency release on the harnesses was tampered with. Franklin will cut them loose as soon as she’s free.”

In the pale illumination of Lindsey’s helmet, Torran saw tears glistening on her cheeks and flecking her eyelashes. The sight broke his already battered heart. It also compelled him to hurry. He needed to save her, then as many of the others as he could. Time was running out for all of them.

A loud splash and a gasp sounded behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Franklin struggling with Hobbes. Only four others now barely had their heads above water. In the darkness he couldn’t make out their faces, which he was somewhat grateful for.

“Why won’t it unlock?” Lindsey’s voice was ragged with fear.

Torran had to push her hands away so he could see the mechanism. It was difficult with the water already climbing over her shoulders. “Hell if I know. I’ll get you lose. Don’t worry.”

“Save the others,” she said again.

Torran stared straight into her eyes and said, “No.” Maybe she didn’t understand, but if she died, he wasn’t too sure how he’d muster the will to fight his way to safety. She was everything good in his life, and though he’d never considered himself to be overly romantic, the thought of her not existing in his world was soul-crushing.

The tiltrotor let out a terrifying sound as it started to slowly topple over. Torran covered Lindsey’s body with his own to protect her from the panels crashing down around them. The air pocket shifted away from the squad as the back end of the tiltrotor settled onto the bottom of the river. Finding himself under water, Torran feverishly attempted to pull the straps free of the chair. Dim lights drifted close to him and he realized it was from Franklin’s helmet. Extending her hand, he saw the outline of her knife and he snatched it from her grip.

“Warning. Oxygen levels—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunted at the suit.

Through the murky, oily water, he could see Lindsey’s big eyes watching him slice at the straps. How long she had before her oxygen ran low he wasn’t certain. Her expression was eerily calm and she rested her hand against his shoulder as he worked.