Page 56 of Hollow Trace

Protocol Zero activated. Thermal purge initiated in T minus three minutes.

Coulter looked down, shaking his head as the flames engulfed the docking bay, the orange writhing mass already climbing the walls. “It’s gonna be close.”

Quinn rolled his eyes. “You Spec Op types always so positive?”

“It’s one of my best qualities.”

“I’ll remember that.” He tightened his grip on the wire mesh when the cage shook, one side dipping lower for a few moments before catching up.

Two minutes.

The voice sounded distant, muffled, half the words lost to the roar of the fire, the steady rumblings inside the complex. Super-heated air rushed up the chimney, singeing the hairs on Quinn’s arms as it encapsulated the cage, choked out most of the useable air.

Above, a shaft of lighter gray pierced the smoke, the surface only a minute away as the temperature continued to rise, those flames gathering strength.

One minute…

They neared the top, the cement rim only ten feet away when an agonizing shriek tore through the air, the winch grinding to a halt. The cage shook, hanging there for a moment before dropping five feet, brakes smoking and sparking. The cable looked as if it was a bad twist away from snapping.

The sudden jolt had dropped them onto their asses, the sharp movement stealing Quinn’s breath as his broken ribs ground together, reminding him he’d be lucky to walk to the SUV let alone climb.

Coulter scrambled to his feet, jumping up and hooking his fingers around the edge of the hatch, pulling himself up and through. He vanished for a moment, then stuck his head through the opening. “Motor’s fried and the cable’s frayed.”

That was all he needed to say to mobilize the group. Neve cupped her hands, giving Brea a boost up and out the hatch, Coulter lifting from above. Zadie and Wynn went next, both making it look easy before Scout took Neve’s place, shaking her head when Neve tried to argue.

Neve sighed, placed her boot in Scout’s hands then shot up, Coulter reaching back down a second later. Scout waved Quinn on, mouth set, eyes narrowed. The kind of look that said she wasn’t taking no for an answer.

He followed suit, smothering all but a harsh grunt as he heaved himself up, accepting Coulter’s help. Coulter arched a brow but pointed to the rusty ladder the others were already climbing.

Scout popped up a moment later, Coulter barely breathing hard as he grabbed a rung, started up. Quinn joined Scout, insisting she go next, not wanting his injuries to slow her down. She huffed but followed Coulter giving Quinn enough room to wrap his good arm around the ladder to catch his balance.

He took a step, his other boot still on the top of the cage when the cable snapped, whipping down around them, ripping the right side of the ladder off the wall as the car dropped, plummeting into the rising smoke just as that timer hit zero, and the purge activated.

Massive explosions rocked through the mine as the cage vanished into the flames, crashing on the rocky floor a few seconds later. Fire curled around it, the flames forming a seething fireball that belched upward, surging up the shaft like a tidal wave.

Quinn kicked at the air, his right arm still not functioning properly, his ribs cutting off any hope of dragging in a breath. Streaks sliced across his vision, as the walls quickly closed in on him.

Scout grabbed the handle on his vest, heaving him up a rung, the right side of the ladder clattering against the rock as it teetered and swayed, threatening to completely drop at a moment’s notice. He got his right arm working, holding him long enough to move his left up, using it to brace most of his weight.

Below, the fireball doubled, the sudden expansion of gases from inside the complex feeding it more fuel. It roared up the shaft, faster than before, engulfing everything in its wake, vaporizing the water still spitting out from the rock.

Scout yelled at him to move, still pulling from above as they cleared the rim, smoke pouring out with them. Coulter hooked each of their arms, yanking them the last foot before tumbling backwards, pulling them clear of the opening just as a geyser of fire and pulverized rock erupted from the shaft like a volcano. It rose twenty feet into the air, burning the night into a warm orange before it slowly dissipated into a scattering of embers floating onto the grass.

More thunder sounded from beneath the earth, parts of the main shaft cracking and falling into the flames.

Quinn collapsed in the dirt, chest heaving, all that pain he’d boxed away surging forward, robbing his next breath as heat burned through his ribs. Groaning, he shifted, holding his side as Scout pushed onto an elbow, brow furrowed, mouth pinched tight.

She reached for his vest, tearing at the Velcro straps — pulling the sides apart before lifting his shirt. “Jesus. Wynn…”

Wynn dropped down beside them, shaking her head as she stared at his side. “What the hell hit you?”

Quinn grimaced, panting through the worst of the pain. “Hackett’s fist.”

Wynn froze. “Hackett did that? With only his fist?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, frowning when he grunted as she moved his arm. “He hit your arm, too?”

“Dislocated it. But I popped it back in. It’s fine.”

“Bullshit. Though, it can wait until we’re back at the bunker. These ribs…” She shook her head again. “I’ll wrap them so you can at least move, but Darwin’s gonna want to do x-rays or an ultrasound. Sideline you until you can breathe without the pain knocking you out.”