Chapter 10
TEN
If anything felt like the bowels of hell, it was the tunnels under Cumbre de Luz. Maybe the heat from the lava still simmering deep inside the giant, because sweat poured down Doyle’s face, around his face-mask-slash-ventilator. Dust still clogged the tunnels, a blood-red haze against the headlamps of the SAR crew.
The most recent vibration hadn’t helped either. Just a rumble deep inside the volcano, but it had shaken loose more of the dust and frankly, a little of Doyle’s courage.
Please, God, don’t let him be buried alive.
Doyle should have agreed with Pete Brooks, the head of the Red Cross SAR team Declan had brought in, and stayed behind. But no, Doyle knew the mine.
He might be as recklessly stubborn as Tia. Whom he’d left sleeping in the cot back at the medical tent so many hours ago. He’d wanted to wake her, but he’d foreseen a small, okay, epic, scuffle and...
Perhaps that hadn’t been fair, but daylight had been burning, and in his brain, all he’d seen were the kids suffocating under the toxic sulfur dust.
So yes, he’d left her behind, armed himself with gloves and protective gear and a gas mask, climbed up the mountain despite his fatigue, and lowered himself into the belly of the beast, again.
“Anything?” said a man named Jake, who’d arrived just a couple hours ago with a team of specialized SAR techs on a plane from the States, bringing medical equipment. He’d also brought his physician wife, Aria. A big man, he possessed the same military aura as Doyle’s brother Stein.
Who was missing.
But Doyle couldn’t go there. Kids first.
It hadn’t taken Ethan and Declan long to boot up their fancy tech and identify an approximate location for the kids. Jake’s boss, a guy named Hamilton, and Pete had huddled up and deployed their recon crew with an urgency Doyle respected.
He hadn’t even asked about Stein as he grabbed gear and suited up. Pete had driven them on the four-wheeler up to the base of the cave-in, and after a quick assessment, kept going on the trail, around the mountain to another entrance.
That information about the other entrance might have been useful before his survival swim in the ocean, thank you.
Now, Doyle ran on adrenaline and hope as he turned to Pete to hear his answer to Jake’s question.
“Nothing. Radio cut out.” Pete wore a cap over his short blond hair. He tucked the radio away. “We’re probably too deep. Doyle, you recognize anything?”
They’d trekked down a long tunnel and emerged into the entrance chamber, debris spilling into the vault. “Yes. We tried that tunnel before, but it had been blocked off.” He pointed to the tunnel where they’d followed Ethan’s footprints.
And maybe he shouldn’t have been quite so, ahem, he’d call it committed with Ethan about his suspicion that Ethan had caused this mess. His brain had simply been on overdrive, given the fun in the ocean and Tia receiving oxygen in the tent and the missing kids and Ethan on his cell phone?—
Good thing Declan had stepped between them.
“How about that one?” Pete walked over to the tunnel they’d taken before, when Doyle and Tia heard voices. “I see footprints.”
“That’s where we last heard them,” Doyle said, and Pete turned, his headlamp lighting up the craggy tunnel.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Pete held a GPS with the map of the mountain loaded in and now oriented himself in the tunnel. “According to this, this tunnel leads to the monastery.”
So, Ethan had been wrong.
Another reason not to blame him for this disaster. Still, it was Ethan’s big mouth that had enticed the kids to hunt for the stupid treasure.
Later. Doyle followed Pete and Jake down the tunnel.
“Ethan thinks the kids are located in a parallel tunnel,” said Doyle. “He followed this one, but it’s blocked off from a previous tremor. He thinks they took one of these rabbit holes.” He indicated a tunnel that jutted off from the main vein.
Pete had stopped, red dust stirring up around his boots. Moved his GPS unit, then—“That one.” He walked over, crouched, and stared into the gap. “Can anyone hear me?” His voice echoed in the shaft.
Nothing.
Please, God, don’t let them be dead ? —
“We’re here! We’re here!”
A male voice. It sounded lower than Rohan’s or Jaden’s, but that could be the echo, or the dust. Pete turned and pulled off his pack, then eased out a large Maglite. He set it up at the edge of the tunnel, shining it inside.
“Let’s see if we can get to them before we call it in. Doyle, you stay here.”
Doyle’s jaw flexed. “I know these kids.”
“I know you do. That’s why we need you here, in case...” His mouth made a grim line.
Still. “They’ll be scared. Let me go.”
Pete considered him for a moment, then looked at Jake, who nodded.
“On me,” Pete said and turned down the corridor, ducking a little, then crawling as the space tightened.
Doyle followed him, his helmet scraping the top of the tunnel.
“This was probably a connecting tunnel, not mined but just a passageway. That’s why it’s so small,” Pete said. “We see these a lot in coal and silver mines.”
“You’ve done a lot of rescues in mines?”
“A few. Old mines that kids explore and get themselves lost in. A couple deep caves where people were stuck.”
“And international rescues?”
“Some. Mostly training exercises. But I know Ham, and he knows Declan, and we’re glad to help. I see the blockage.”
Doyle looked past him to an opening blocked by a tumble of rocks. It hadn’t completely closed, however, and a dark face, grimy with dirt, peered at them through the tunnel. A kid. Doyle couldn’t make out whether it was Jaden or Rohan.
“You guys okay?”
“Yeah,” the boy said, and the voice nudged deep inside him. “But I’m stuck.”
“We’ll get you out. Hang tight.” Pete pulled a pry bar off his pack. Worked it between the rocks. “Doyle, give me a hand.”
Doyle gripped the bar alongside Pete, and they dislodged one boulder, then another. The rocks spilled down, and Doyle pushed them out of the way.
The opening was now big enough to pull a body through. Pete pushed his arm into it. “Can you move?”
“Yeah,” said the boy, and again, the voice?—
Oh. Wait ? —
“Me first,” said another voice, also male.
No. Doyle knew that voice, that accent, that tone?—
“Pete—”
But Pete had already grabbed the man’s hand, and the pebbles broke free as the man scrabbled into the opening, wrestling himself out of the hole.
Doyle leaned away, his chest tight as realization slid over him, took his breath.
Sebold fell onto the tunnel floor covered in red dust, coughed, and then coughed out blood-red spittle.
What—?
“Head up the tunnel toward the next opening,” said Pete to the man. “There’s an SAR tech there with a mask.”
Sebold pushed to his hands and knees, heading toward Jake, and Doyle simply. couldn’t. move.
Pete reached for the next person, another man, this one covered in dried blood, a wound on his scalp. Doyle helped him climb free and caught his breath.
“Keon?”
The man looked up at Doyle, frowned. Maybe the former security guard didn’t recognize Doyle under his helmet and ventilator mask,
“Get out,” Doyle said and watched him crawl away, the truth pitching his gut.
“Here’s a kid,” Pete said, and Doyle turned as Pete helped someone out of the hole. What if their kids had run into Sebold and...
No. As the boy rolled out of the hole and sat up, as Doyle stared at his tear-streaked face, he didn’t know whether to retch or reach out for him and pull him into a desperate embrace.
Kemar.
He leaned against the cave wall, breathing hard, staring at Pete, then Doyle.
Doyle pulled off his mask. Kemar’s eyes widened and he took a shaky breath.
“It’s okay, kid.” He crawled over to him and put the mask on him. “You’re going to be okay.”
“Doyle—” Pete started, but Doyle glanced at him, shook his head. Pete’s mouth pursed, and Doyle turned back to Kemar.
“You hurt?”
“No.” He hauled in breaths, however, as if he was terrified. Doyle set his hand on Kemar’s shoulder, gave a squeeze.
“It’s going to be okay. What were you doing in here?”
“I told Sebold about the treasure and what that guy said, and he wanted to find it. He saw him coming out of the cave yesterday, and...” Kemar was crying now, his nose running and gooing up the mask.
“Shh. Everything will be fine. We’re going to get you out of here.” He winced then, hoping. “Did you see Rohan or Jaden or Gabriella?”
Kemar’s eyes widened and he shook his head.
Doyle ran his hand around the back of Kemar’s neck, squeezed, and met his eyes. “Calm down. Let’s get out of here. It’ll be okay.”
Oh, he wanted to believe his own words.
He pushed the boy toward the entrance. Pete handed him a neck gaiter, and he pulled it on, then up over his mouth, and followed.
Pete came behind them.
Where were the Hope House kids? The question hammered in Doyle’s head, his chest.
Worse, he’d just risked his life for Sebold .
And Kemar. Hello.
His headlamp illuminated the entrance.
“Jake?”
No response. Perhaps he was attending to Keon.
Kemar reached the connecting tunnel, stood up. Doyle came out after him, looking for Jake.
“Jake!”
Pete’s voice made Doyle turn.
In the glow of Doyle’s light, Jake was stumbling toward them down the passageway. Blood drenched his uniform, a slice across his chest, and one hand pressed on the wound, the other holding his backpack.
“What happened?” Pete said, meeting him and taking the pack from him.
“That guy came out foot first. Kicked me in the face, broke the vent, stole my headlamp.” He sank to a crouch. “He got the pack and took off. I followed. He ambushed me.” He released his hand. Bloody. “Slowed me down a little.”
Pete had pulled off his pack, dug out a kit, found a gauze pad. “Just a little?”
“I got the pack back, didn’t I?”
Doyle dug into it and found two ventilators. He pulled one out and went over to Keon. Crouched in front of him. “This is for you.” He shoved it over his head, affixed it on his face.
Keon grabbed his wrist. “It’s not what it looks like.”
Doyle’s eyes narrowed. “What it looks like is that you betrayed Hope House.”
“I had to?—”
Doyle yanked his hand from Keon’s grip and turned to Kemar.
Pete held out the ventilator to Doyle.
“It’s for Jake. You and I can trade off.”
Pete hesitated a moment, then gave it to Jake.
Good. Doyle took a breath from Pete’s vent, then turned to Kemar, who sat against the dusty walls, his legs pulled up, his arms locked around them. Dust covered his worn tennis shoes, and he trembled.
Doyle pulled off his overshirt and wrapped it around Kemar, buttoning it up. Then he put an arm around the kid and helped him to his feet. “Ready to go home? Your brother is waiting.”
Kemar’s eyes filled, but he nodded.
Pete had grabbed up Keon, Jake struggling behind him.
“Let’s get out of here,” Doyle said and walked through the blood-red dust.
* * *
“They found Doyle and the team.” The male voice carried across the mostly empty dining hall. The words weren’t directed at her, but Tia still heard them from the dark place she’d gone in her mind, her head on her folded arms as she sat at a long table, fatigue trying to pull her away from the search conversation.
As it was, she’d downed three cups of coffee and a hot currant roll that Rosa brought from the kitchen. They’d fed the children earlier, the rain and darkness pressing against the windows, turning the night somber. Lucia and Aliyah had held hands and cried, and Jamal had stirred his rice and beans around in his bowl before setting it away.
A few of the American donors had shown up, and Jane and Perez Marquez had carried Royce and Remy to their dorm, read the other children stories. The Jamesons had arrived as well and played a game of Chutes and Ladders with Jamal.
Sweet people really. Doyle had done the right thing trying to create families.
And of course, that only made her think of her conversation with Doyle, his words about Juliet... “Kind. Soft-spoken. Sweet. And yes, she wanted to be a mom of many. Probably the perfect missionary.”
Then she’d made that stupid, stupid joke— “so, completely different than me” —and instantly wanted to take the words back.
But it was probably true. She’d never thought of herself as a mother. Never as a missionary.
Frankly, she didn’t know what she dreamed of?—
“Ham called and said they have people with them.” Again, the male voice.
Tia lifted her head and found the source—Ranger Kingston, who had manned the comms since Declan, Hamilton, and one of the two Jones, Inc. security guys left.
Ranger wore glasses as he scanned the map. “They’re on their way back.” Water dripped from a rain slicker hanging on a hook by the door. Could be he’d been outside, where reception was probably better. He stood next to Austen, his cousin, so clearly there were Kingstons everywhere, and pointed at the map.
Tia stood up, and the movement of her bench made Austen look over at her, give her a tight smile. Tia climbed over the bench and walked to them.
“People? Not kids?”
Ranger met her eyes, took off his glasses. “I dunno. He said they were on their way back, one injured.”
She stilled. “Doyle?”
“I don’t know.” Austen touched her arm. “You all right?”
Tia nodded. “Tired.”
“It’s been a wild week,” Austen said. “And now this horrible tragedy.” She appeared drawn too, a little grime on her face, her shirt dirty. She gave Tia a tight smile. “Doyle is lucky to have found you.”
Tia frowned. “Um...”
“Please. I know my brother. He’s been... very dark, and lost, for a long time. But he’s different. I noticed it the minute I arrived. He looks at you and something sparks in his eye?—”
“Annoyance.” Except, that wasn’t fair. Maybe once upon a time, but...
Although, she did seem to keep getting him in over his head. What if she’d dreamed up... well, not the kiss. Because that had definitely happened, hello.
But perhaps the meaning of it.
It was probably just a panic kiss. The kind of kiss people shared when they were trying not to give up.
Austen laughed. “Intrigue. Maybe even challenge. And that’s good. Doyle always reminded me a little of MacGyver, the guy on television who could fix anything. Quick thinking, and...”
“Smart. Brave.”
Austen smiled. “Handsome.”
Tia blinked away the image of Doyle handing her his shirt. “Mm-hmm.”
“The thing is, I know he loved Juliet with everything inside him, but she was larger than life in his head. When they got back together, he was so in love with her that I’m not sure he ever really fought with her. Stood up to her.”
Tia sat on the table, folded her hands.
“Don’t get me wrong. Doyle is a good man. A godly man. And he’s not weak. It’s just... it’s good to see him working alongside you... you’re his equal, his partner.”
“And Juliet wasn’t?”
“You know how sometimes it feels like one person in a relationship loves more than the other? Like it’s a little lopsided?”
Um, yes . Tia swallowed.
“Doyle definitely loved Juliet more.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
Austen lowered her voice. “Don’t ever tell him this, but I think he made Juliet into a little bit of an idol. She was everything to him, and when she died, he fell into a hole, completely lost.”
“What do you mean, an idol ?”
“He worshipped her. And yes, Juliet surely loved Jesus—but she also loved having a man who would do anything for her. And that’s not healthy. Every woman needs a man who can stand up to her.” She winked. “Because we’re not always right—even if it feels like it.”
“Why, why, why are you so intent on getting yourself killed?” Doyle’s words speared into Tia’s head.
“No, we’re not,” she said quietly.
Austen smiled, then reached out and touched Tia’s hand. “I like seeing my brother smile again. Laugh again. And act like the guy I used to know.”
“Ornery and bullheaded and impulsive and?—”
“Yep, that guy.” She grinned.
Tia laughed, and... okay, yes . She liked the idea of putting spark back into Doyle’s life. So... maybe...
The doors to the dining hall opened, and the rain washed in along with big Hamilton Jones, Declan, and another guy, blond, helping a man with a head wound?—
“Keon?”
He limped over to a bench and sat down. Blood saturated his shirt. Gauze wrapped around his head, taped, bloody. The amber dust had soaked into his dark skin, turned to rust with the rain, and he looked stripped.
What on earth?
“Let’s get you to the clinic,” she said, reaching for him. He stood, and she steadied him, turning.
And stilled.
Doyle stood at the door, his hands on the shoulders of... Kemar? He’d been crying and appeared injured as a welt rose on his cheek.
But the look in Doyle’s eyes gutted her and... she got it.
“You didn’t find them,” she said quietly.
He walked in, and a second later, Jamal shouted, running across the room. She watched the reunion, the way Kemar swept him up, then began to cry, and felt...
Angry.
“What happened?”
“The... hot spot... The images weren’t...” Doyle looked at Keon, then back at Tia. “We need to get him to the clinic in town.” He walked over to Keon.
She stepped in front of Doyle, her hands out. “Doyle. What is going on?”
He took her by the elbows. “We need to talk. But not here.”
She stilled and the room went quiet. He grabbed her hand, his grip tight, and pulled her through the room to the kitchen, then along the corridor inside the building.
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace quiet.”
“You’re scaring me.”
He said nothing, and she wanted to yank her hand away, but her feet simply kept moving.
They stopped at the chapel door and he opened it. Held it for her.
She walked inside. Dark, shadowy, lined with the children’s drawings, the smell of sawdust lifting from the small room.
He led her to one of the prayer pews.
“Doyle—”
“Sit.”
She lowered herself onto the bench.
He sat beside her. “It was Sebold. He was the heat signature.”
She blinked at him, trying—“What?”
“He was the voice we heard in the mine yesterday. He was trying to find the treasure. He saw Ethan come out of the mine, and according to Kemar, they went into the tunnel—which I think must have gotten blocked in that first tremor. And then came back out and went in the other way. They got trapped in the quake, or whatever it was.”
Sebold. “Where is he now?”
“He ran. He injured Jake. Jake’s going to take Keon and go to the medical tent in the village to get stitched up by his wife.”
“Sebold attacked one of the rescuers?”
“Yeah. And somehow made it out of the cave. He took Jake’s headlamp—ran into Ham and Declan on his way out. Declan didn’t recognize him, and Ham didn’t know him. They let him go.”
She nodded, pressed her hand to her forehead. “But... what about the kids?”
He touched her hands then and held them, his gaze on hers. “They’re...”
“Not there.”
He swallowed, drew in a breath. “The TRIS spots heat sources, and with Ethan’s satellite and Declan’s AI program to decipher them...” He sighed. “There are no more heat sources in the mountain, at least none that are human.”
“So they’re not there—” But she stopped at his grim-mouthed look. “Doyle?”
He said nothing. And then?—
She got it. Her voice turned stricken. “You think they’re dead.”
He nodded, gently, slowly. “Their bodies have stopped giving out heat.”
She cocked her head. “No, Doyle. No—no, that’s not... that’s...” She got up. Walked away. Rounded back on him. “Those kids are my responsibility, and they—” She pointed at him. “No.”
He got up then, walked over to her, but she straight-armed him. “Stay back.”
“Tia. You couldn’t have?—”
“No!” Her eyes burned, and she pressed her hands to her stomach. “No,” she whispered. Her back hit the stone wall, and she slid down it into a crouch on the floor.
He knelt in front of her, not reaching out. His own eyes glistened. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else... I don’t know... I mean, we can go back, but those tunnels are... Tia...”
She put her hands over her face, pressing back the images of Gabriella on the soccer field, laughing, and Jaden and Rohan on the beach and... “I was supposed to take care of them...”
She felt him move toward her, pulling her to himself.
And she had no bones to resist him, just fell awkwardly against his chest, her jaw tight, her breaths coming fast, hard...
He eased her closer, her legs to one side over his so she could lean a shoulder against him, and then, quietly, gently, drew her into the pocket of his embrace.
She could do nothing but cover her face with her hands, and sob.
And maybe she even loved him a little more when he lowered his head to her shoulder and let himself cry too.
No, probably she loved him a lot more. All the way, even.
Outside, rain bulleted the roof, the breath of the dark chapel chilly as she let herself weep. And probably not just for these children, actually, but...
For everything.
For the trauma of the last week, for her mistakes, and even for the terrible hope that somehow she might do it right this time. That people wouldn’t die under her watch. Which of course led her to the memory of Edward. And the fact that she’d wasted so many years trying to be the One. And now she was just pathetic.
Which brought her back to sweet Gabriella, who would never have the chance to fall in love or go to medical school, and Jaden, too young to die, and smart-mouthed, charismatic, and funny Rohan...
“I’d hide something in the crypt under the chapel. No one goes there.”
She gasped, her breath caught, and she looked at Doyle. “Wait.”
He lifted his head too and stared at her. “What?”
She wiped the heat from her face. “Is there a crypt... or catacombs or something under the chapel?”
He loosened his grip. “Um, I found a wine cellar behind the altar.”
She disentangled herself. “Show me.”
He frowned but got up, then walked over to the altar, fished out a headlamp from his thigh pocket, and put it on. He motioned to her.
She followed him and he pushed against the wall behind the cross.
A door opened. The scent of age and dirt rose from the darkness. He pointed his light down the steps. “I found it when I redid the chapel. It just leads to a small room, nothing?—”
“C’mon.”
“What?”
She pushed past him. “Remember when Ethan was telling his stupid pirate story in the yard that first night of the fundraiser?”
“No.”
She had landed at the bottom of the stairs. “Rohan said he heard about bootleggers hiding whiskey in caskets.”
“From who?”
“I don’t know. But he definitely said he’d hide something in the crypt under the chapel.” She looked around the room. Dirt walls, a packed floor, a small tower of wine casks against the wall, and shelving filled with old, dusty bottles. She picked one up, blew on it. “It’s full.”
“It’s probably a hundred years old.”
“The air is cool down here.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Just thinking.” She put the wine back, looked around. “Did Rohan know this was here?”
“I don’t think so. Or... I don’t know. The kids came into the chapel sometimes when I was working, but I don’t think...”
She turned to him. “Doyle. The chapel would have been in the church . The prayer room in the back of the church was a chapel, used for private prayers.” She stepped up to him. “I think I know where the kids might be.”
He stared at her, his blue eyes sparking, a smile tugging his face. “I like it when you get a really crazy, brilliant idea.”
And oh, she almost did it. Almost gave in to the impulse. Almost leaned up and kissed him.
Instead, she grabbed his hand. “Let’s hope this is just crazy enough to be right.”