Chapter 34 #2
Ryder couldn’t remember feeling so completely trapped and useless .
. . except . . . that one other time, and the thought scrambled his brain.
Tormented his mind because he was here, so close, so ridiculously close to the same place where a rescue team had to climb to save a guy.
Oh, they’d saved him from his foolish climb, and Ryder’s father had paid the price.
That urgent need to press his palms against his eyes, pinch his nose, scratch his chin—anything to chase away the anxiety—overwhelmed him in this helmet that prevented his action.
But that was the past, and this was happening now, and Ryder had a chance to make a difference.
This plane had crashed in the Cascades, and the world never knew. He wasn’t entirely sure they should know now, but it would be better for the truth to come out and the world to know than for rogue players like Maddox and Kepler to get their hands on this to do who knew what.
Cold seeped into the suit, and he suspected Sarah had to be feeling it too. They were on limited oxygen. He glanced at the monitor. Twenty minutes left. That was all?
Time was running out.
Holding the biohazard canister, Kepler approached the container.
He ran his gloved fingers over the recessed latches, searching for a release. Nothing.
“I don’t understand . . . it won’t open.” He turned to Maddox, frustration edging his tone.
“Then force it.” Maddox was growing impatient.
“If I force it, I could rupture the vials,” Kepler snapped.
“Smith, get in here. We need to open this container,” Maddox shouted into a handheld radio, his voice sounding muted through the helmet.
Sarah made her way forward before Ryder could tug her back and suddenly stepped in front of Kepler and Maddox. “No,” she said.
Maddox’s brow lifted. “Excuse me?”
“You open that without knowing what condition it’s in, and you could expose all of us—kill us.
Kill everyone. So what, we’re wearing hazmat suits.
That doesn’t protect the rest of the world, the rest of your men.
We need containment protocol. Full decon.
A mobile lab. You think you’re prepared, but you’re not. Am I right, Dr. Kepler?”
“I admit,” Kepler said, “these aren’t the most robust preparedness protocols, and I’d prefer a fully equipped mobile lab just outside. In fact, I’d rather secure the container and transport it directly to a biosafety level-four facility—one designed for exactly this kind of threat.”
“You’re out of time and out of leverage.” Maddox tugged a Beretta 92FS from the utility tool holster, leaving only a knife strapped to his thigh.
“She’s right.” Dean stepped inside, also in a suit.
“Where’s Smith?”
“He isn’t coming,” Dean said. Why would Dean risk it? This had become a sad party.
“You open that container here,” Ryder said, “and none of us survives.” Maybe with pressure from enough of them, Maddox would change his mind. Regardless, Ryder pushed his way to join Sarah. He would step in front of that bullet if needed. He could not let her die.
Maddox turned, his expression livid. “You’re a glorified trail guide, Dean. Stay in your lane and get out.”
Dean didn’t flinch. “I came inside to warn you that there’s a shift happening up top.”
“An avalanche,” Sarah said. “That must be it. They landed, they crash-landed and might have survived, but an avalanche killed them all. Trapped them inside.”
Except for her grandfather. And Ryder couldn’t be sure others hadn’t escaped.
“We’re all going to die if we don’t get out of here now,” Ryder said. “Regardless of what’s inside that container. Come back another time, another day.”
Live to fight another day.
Dean stepped forward. “I’ll open the container.”
“No,” Sarah said. “Please, Dean, don’t do it.”
Dean glanced back at Ryder. Again, something unreadable in his eyes. And then . . . Ryder realized too late—Dean was trying to be a hero. Holding a crowbar, Dean stepped between Maddox and Sarah on his way to the container.
“You’re not opening it with that,” Dr. Kepler said.
“We don’t have time for anything else. We need what’s inside, and we have to get out now or we’re going to be buried here with it.” Dean stepped forward and started working on the latches. “I for one want to see my family again. But . . . maybe that was never the plan.”
Ryder motioned for Sarah to move closer to him as he urged her back and away. He appreciated that she decided to trust him rather than try to stop Dean. Or maybe she was reading the situation like he was. Maddox’s full attention remained on the payload he’d risked so much to get.
Ryder sensed that the next few moments were live or die.
“I need some help.” Dean gestured for Dr. Kepler, but Maddox pushed forward.
“I’ll do it.”
Maddox stood poised to assist Dean in opening the container while Dr. Kepler stepped back as if unsure about this haphazard method.
Without warning, Dean pivoted and slammed the crowbar into Maddox’s mask, cracking the faceplate.
Maddox stumbled back, his free, gloved hand clawing for balance as a gunshot exploded from his own handgun in the confined space.
Maddox fell against the warped floor, stunned, the Beretta dangling from his grip.
Dean retrieved the gun, yanking it free without hesitation from Maddox, then aimed it at him.
Sarah screamed, “No!” And raced forward, but Ryder held her back. “Where’s Jeremy? Tell me where my son is!”
“Go, get out of here!” Dean gestured at Ryder and Sarah. “He threatened my family. That’s the only reason I was here. You can’t think I would have come here willingly. I can’t let this happen. If it all comes crashing down on you, Ryder, you know where to go.”
Yeah. He did. Couldn’t imagine willfully going there . . .
But desperate times.
“He has my son.” Sarah lunged toward Dean. “I need to know where he is. Don’t kill Reid!”
Ryder held on to her as she shook with fear and rage.
Dean had stepped up, willing to give his life. Ryder had misjudged him. Dr. Kepler staggered. For an instant, Ryder thought he’d simply slipped on the warped, icy floor—until crimson blossomed across his chest. He collapsed to his knees. Then fell face forward.
No one moved.
Maddox’s stray bullet had taken out the mad scientist. Shock burned through Ryder’s veins, freezing him where he stood. Kepler was down—gone. Ryder had no time to process. No time to mourn, when Maddox climbed back to his feet.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Dean asked Ryder, still aiming the gun at Maddox. “Get out of here.”
“We need to know from Maddox where to find the boy before we leave. And even if we try to leave, we’re trapped inside,” Ryder said. “The armed men outside aren’t going to let us walk out of here.”
“They’re not going to touch you. In a few minutes, they’re going to run for their lives.”
What had Dean done? “Come on, then, you can make it out too.”
“I’ll be right behind you. Get her out of here.”
“I’m waiting for you,” Ryder said.
Dean leveled the gun at Maddox, rubber-gloved finger pressing against the trigger. “The boy. Where is he? Tell me now if you want to live.”
Ryder’s gaze flicked to Maddox’s utility holster—empty—and realization slammed into him.
Maddox lunged, the knife flashing in his fist, and drove the blade into Dean’s chest. Dean staggered, his breath hissing through clenched teeth as he fired the gun.
Maddox dropped hard, his body slamming against the aluminum hull.
The hilt of the knife visible in his chest, Dean swayed, and the gun slipped from his grip as he collapsed to his knees before toppling sideways.
It had all happened so fast.
“Dean!” Ryder moved to crouch next to him. “Stay with me, man!”
But Dean was unresponsive. Ryder couldn’t hear breathing or the hiss of the SCBA. He searched for a pulse, but it was difficult to find through the rubber gloves. Panic clawed at his chest.
“No, no, no . . .” Ryder’s voice broke, filled with anger and grief. “I’m sorry, I should’ve had your back.”
Sarah’s choked sob pulled his attention to her. She knelt beside Maddox, her voice desperate and raw. “Tell me what I need to know to find my son!”
His eyes were glassy. The man was gone and had taken his secrets with him. He was now facing his maker.
“We’ll find him, Sarah,” Ryder said. “But we can’t if we don’t survive this. So come on.”