Chapter 20
I t was dark. So dark Cara couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. She sat up, disoriented, trying to remember what had happened. Her head hurt. She probed her scalp gingerly, relieved to find only a small lump. She rubbed her throat, surprised at how tender it was.
Nick .
Memory came crashing in, her mind replaying the moment when he'd shoved her forward, the sound of his shots reverberating off the walls. A cave-in. She drew in a breath, choking on the dust that filled the tunnel. Nick had caused a cave-in.
"Michael?"
The silence echoed back at her, mocking her with its emptiness. She swallowed, wondering if the sudden dryness in her throat was caused by the dust or her rising fear.
"Michael? Can you hear me?"
The tunnel remained silent. She closed her mouth, forcing herself to breathe through her nose.
The dark was overwhelming, pressing in on her, threatening to consume what little courage she had left.
She had to find Michael. He was here somewhere.
All she had to do was to stay calm and search.
She stared into the darkness, trying to see something, anything .
There was no light at all, nothing to distinguish a wall from a shadow, the front of the tunnel from the back.
She forced herself to picture the tunnel.
In her mind's eye, she saw the entrance, and using her memory, traced a path all the way to the rear.
She could do this. She just had to rely on her sense of touch.
Rocking up onto her knees, she crawled forward, one hand extended in front of her, sweeping through the endless blackness, searching for him. After only a few feet, her hand met rock, solid, impenetrable rock.
Standing, she stretched her arms out to both sides and swung them slowly up and down. Nothing. Feeling again for the wall in front of her, she moved along it until she felt the junction of wall meeting wall.
A corner.
Progress.
There were only a couple of corners. She ought to be able to orient herself.
She ran a hand along the two adjacent walls.
One was smooth in comparison to the other.
She sucked in a breath, almost choking on the dust. She had found the slide.
Following the path of the cave-in, her trembling fingers searched for a hole, some portal for escape. A stone wobbled under her touch.
With pounding heart, she carefully tried to pry it away from the blockage.
It fell heavily into her hands, but the resulting hail of loose stone filled its place almost immediately.
Reaching higher, she grabbed another protruding rock and yanked it free.
Again, stones and dirt rained down on her.
A rumble filled the tunnel, and she dropped to the floor, covering her head with her hands as large chunks of the ceiling crashed to the floor around her.
She scrambled away, tripping, falling to her knees, gulping for breath, the dust again filling her lungs.
Reaching out, she tried to find the wall, afraid that somehow in her panic, she had disoriented herself.
Her hand groped through the dark, closing around something cold and pliant.
She retched and jerked back, recoiling as her senses registered the feel of a human hand.
"Michael?" she shrieked.
Nothing moved, and another thought entered her head.
"Nick? Is that you, Nick?"
Again, nothing.
Fighting her fear, she stretched her hand out again, steeling herself against the feel of cold flesh.
Slowly, she closed her fingers over the hand's digits, noting that there was no reaction, not even a quiver of movement.
The skin was cold and soft. Soft . She released a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding.
Not Michael's work-worn hand, Nick's I-never-work-when-I-can-pay-someone-else-to-do-it hand.
She sent a prayer heavenward.
She followed the hand until she felt the adjoining wrist and arm. Tracing her way up his arm, she felt the solid barrier of rock before she'd even reached the elbow. He'd been crushed. She shuddered with revulsion, tears filling her eyes. Not even Nick deserved to die like that.
A harsh hacking sound filtered through her terror-numbed mind. She whirled around. "Michael? Is that you?" The coughing grew louder as she groped her way through the darkness toward the sound. "Michael?"
"I'm here, Cara."
The tears began to fall in earnest, the dam threatening to break. She struggled for control, stumbling as she ran forward, rocks rattling as she fought to regain her balance.
"Hang on, sweetheart. I'm going to light a match."
A soft light flared in front of her, illuminating a small circle around him. Nothing had ever looked so beautiful. She threw herself at him, mindful of nothing but her overriding need to feel his arms around her. Surely, now that they were together everything would be all right.
"Hey, easy now." He laughed as she burrowed close, the sound of his voice music to her ears. "I'm not going anywhere."
She winced at the truth in his words. If what she suspected was right, neither of them would ever go anywhere again. The match fizzled out and blackness surrounded them once more. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her.
She buried her face in his chest, his warm breath fanning across her hair, her arms circling his waist. He pulled her onto his lap, cradling her. She sighed and leaned into him, content for the moment just to feel his even breathing.
"Are you all right?" She shifted, tipping her head up toward him.
"I think so. Just a knock on the head. How about you?"
"Same." She felt his hand gently search her skull, stopping when it found the lump.
"That's a pretty good knot."
"It's nothing, really." She smiled in the darkness.
He felt for her face and ran his palm along the line of her cheek, bending his head to find her lips.
The kiss was like an explosion, passion fueled by a wild mixture of fear and relief.
She clung to him, her body melding with his, her lips opening to his touch, drawing him deeper, closer.
Despite her exhaustion, her need for him crescendoed into hot, burning desire.
She pressed against him, willing his body to become one with hers, wanting only to be closer. He ran his hand across her breast and she winced as his fingers came in contact with torn flesh. He pulled back, his voice tightening with concern. "You're hurt."
"I don't think so." She blinked in the sudden flare of light as he lit another match, surprised to see that his hands were shaking. "I feel fine." She tried to settle back against him, her thoughts still centered on her need for him.
"I'll be the judge of that." He pushed her back and held the flame between them.
With his other hand, he pulled back the torn material of her blouse.
"There's a cut here." He ran a gentle finger along the soft peak and she jerked a little at the contact.
He audibly released a breath. "It's all right. It's just a scratch."
"I told you."
"Damn." He pulled away, dropping the stub of the match as it burned his thumb, plunging them into darkness in an instant.
He found her hand and linked his fingers with hers, gently pulling her forward until she was once again nestled against him.
Somehow, like this, the whole thing seemed less frightening.
She settled closer into the curve of his body and drew in a breath for courage, a vision of Nick filling her brain. "I…I found Nick."
His arm tightened around her as he waited for her to say more.
"He's dead." She shivered at the thought of the lifeless hand.
"Well, I can't say that I'm sorry. What happened?"
"He was…" She swallowed, trying to find the words. "Buried…in the cave-in. All I found was…his hand." The tears started again. She was nothing more than a blubbering baby. "I thought…Oh God, Michael…I thought it was yours."
He pulled her close, rocking her soothingly in his arms. "I'm here, Cara. I'm fine. It's going to be all right, sweetheart, I promise. Somehow, it's going to be all right."
She tried to nod, to rally, to let him know she was okay, but the tears just kept coming. Reaction. That's all it was. Reaction. She'd just let them come and then she'd pull it all together.
But right now, this minute, she just wanted him to hold her. She'd be strong in little while, she solemnly promised herself—in just a little while.
Michael felt Cara stir in her sleep and reached to smooth a wayward curl from her face, stunned to realize just how much she'd come to mean to him. He didn't know when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, she'd become a part of him.
He sighed, pushing his feelings away. Now wasn't the time.
Time .
He groaned at the irony of his thought. Unless he'd missed something, their time was running out. He leaned over the small lantern, adjusting the wick so that it would continue to burn slowly. The little light was the one good thing he'd found in his search of the tunnel.
He turned again to survey the space around him. The light faded to black long before the rubble from the cave-in began, but even though he couldn't see the wall, it taunted him with its impenetrable mass.
There was no way out.
The flame in the lantern flickered and Cara moaned in her sleep. He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair, wondering how fate could possibly have allowed them to survive all that they had, only to leave them trapped here until the air ran out.
He cast a glance upwards. It seemed that somebody up there had a vicious sense of humor. He swallowed bitter laughter. And Patrick. What of Patrick? Was he still alive? Clenching a fist, Michael swung at the air.
He had never felt so helpless.
He was the one who was supposed to take care of everyone. Fine job he was doing. His father was dead and Patrick was…well, if not already dead, then certainly on his way to being so.