He blinked, lashes spangled with droplets. He yanked the phone out.
Below him, Kit raised the baby as the water crept higher. “Hurry, Cullen.”
“Gideon?” he shouted in his cell. “Stop talking! We’re in a flooded tunnel somewhere underground near the town of Twinfork. I can’t talk or we’ll drown. I’ll keep the phone on. Track us if you can.” He shoved the phone in his pocket, which muffled his brother’s oaths. “And stop swearing! You promised Mom,” he roared as he slammed the sledgehammer again. “We got two ladies present, you big galoot.”
A frantic glance told him Kit was inundated to her torso. Water began to toy with the edge of Tot’s socks. Once she was cold, hypothermia would set in. How would they warm her? Save her?
“She’s getting wet,” Kit called frantically.
Gideon’s muffled interrogation continued.
“You have the worst timing ever, Gideon!” Cullen hollered in time to his sledgehammer blows. “Most...”Clang.“Annoying...”Clang.Before he got to the next adjective, the gap widened a few inches more. Cullen braced against the metal panel and strained, pushing and grunting. Another inch, then another until one more sinew-snapping heave levered the metal plate clear.
Praising God, he shoved the barrier out of the way. There was no time for delicacy. He bent, grabbed Kit around the waist, and half-guided, half-launched her and Tot up and out. Kit banged her knee on the way and let out a cry of pain. He followed with the gear, barely able to summon the strength to haul himself free.
On hands and knees, he blinked the water from his eyelashes, panting. It was dark, but less so than in the tunnel. Immediately he turned to take Tot from Kit’s trembling arms. The adjustment in his vision came gradually, and the baby swam into focus. “Tottie girl? Talk to me.”
While he jostled Tot, he became aware that they weren’t outside as he’d expected. Instead, they were inside the remains of what had been a wooden structure but was now a collection of rotting beams. Where was the town? Help? People? Some kind of shelter?
As he rocked the baby, he took in the surroundings. The broken building sat at the edge of a sprawl of rustedjunk, discarded washing machines, and car parts, gleaming dully in the glare of his headlamp. They were in some sort of salvage yard. Every surface was covered by volcanic ash. No sign of human activity. Anywhere.
“Where are we?” Kit whispered.
He snapped out of his own shock as he fumbled in his pack and pulled out a silver emergency blanket, slipped a mask on Tot, and handed one to Kit. He peered closer at Tot.
“She’s not crying,” he said desperately, chafing Tot’s shivering body. They had to get somewhere warm fast. He wrapped the blanket around Tot and Kit before he got his night vision binoculars and surveyed.
“Past the junkyard about a mile or so there’s ... something.” He squinted, adjusting the lenses. “Sheds? No, trailers. I think it’s a trailer park.”
“A mile?” she said weakly.
But Cullen was focused on the phone he’d temporarily forgotten. “Gideon? Are you there?” He shook the device with increasing agitation. “Gideon?” He smacked the phone against his thigh. “Unbelievable. Lost him.”
She shook her head, and he realized she was struggling to speak.
They were all cold, so cold, and Tot was growing ever more still.
Kit tried to stand, but her injured knee gave out and she sat down hard.
Desperation felt like a river rushing through his veins. He bent at the waist. “Get on my back. Leave the gear. We’ll get to shelter and I’ll retrieve it later.”
She shook her head. “A mile’s too far and my knee’snot cooperating. I’m too heavy. Take Tot and come back for me.”
“We stay together, Kit, remember?” he said savagely. “Get on my back. Right now.”
Stiffly, she rose. He helped her stuff Tot inside her jacket before he crouched, and she climbed on. His joints cracked and he struggled to get upright, but he did it, then staggered into motion as she clutched him around the neck. She tried to aim her flashlight and help him avoid the obstacles. He skirted piles of scrap until they emerged on a flat acre that must have been a lovely swatch of grass before the eruption. The trailers seemed impossibly far away, tiny specs.
Don’tthink about the distance.He wouldn’t fail. Couldn’t.
Each step, foot, yard was torture. He clomped onward, straining under the effort, past a fenced tarmac. At the far end was a blur of yellow.
“Cullen, stop.”
He couldn’t imagine why she wanted to stop, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to continue on if he did. Momentum was the only thing keeping him in motion. “I don’t...”
But she dug her fingernails into his bicep to the point of pain.
He wiped his eyes and blinked. The faint yellow objects came into focus.
