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In Too Deep

Page 182

by C.F. White

“Roof’s shifting. Don’t fancy finding out how long it’s got.”

As if summoned by the words, something creaked deep within the structure. Not the ordinary groan of an old building settling. A long, splintering crack travelled somewhere beyond the plant room, followed by a dull impact beneath them.

Jake glanced upwards. “Been doing that for the last half hour. Getting worse.”

Fuck.

Harrison looked back towards the open plant-room door. The responding units would be here any minute, but units weren’t structural engineers. Fire and Rescue weren’t even on scene yet. And leaving Jake beneath a failing roof while Harrison waited for someone better equipped to pull him out suddenly seemed considerably more dangerous than getting him through a hatch barely a few feet above his head.

“Can you stand?”

“Probably.”

“That isn’t convincing.”

“You want convincing or honest?”

“For once in your life, honest.”

Jake considered that. “Probably.”

Harrison lowered himself flat beside the opening and reached down. “Get underneath me.”

Jake blinked up at him. “Right now? No foreplay? I’ll need more prep than that. Been a while.”

“Jake.”

“Aye, alright.”

He moved, and Harrison’s brief rush of relief disappeared as Jake had to use the duct to haul himself upright, clamping one arm tightly to his body while keeping almost all his weight off one foot, face tight with pain.

Another crack sounded somewhere outside.

Dust sifted from the edge of the opening.

Harrison didn’t look away from Jake. “Good hand.” He stretched his arm as far as it would go. “Give me your good hand.”

Jake reached up. Harrison caught his wrist, then locked his other hand around Jake’s forearm.

“I’ve got you.”

Jake looked up at him. “You fucking better have.”

“Push with your good leg. I’ll pull.”

Jake nodded.

“Now.”

Harrison hauled as Jake pushed off the walkway. For a moment it worked. Jake came up far enough to hook his good forearm over the edge of the hatch, but his injured shoulder struck the opening and a vicious curse tore out of him.

“Stop. Stop.”

Harrison froze, keeping both hands locked around him. Jake hung there between the walkway and the plant-room floor, his face suddenly white beneath the dust.

“Shoulder?”

“Every-fucking-thing.”