Chapter 77
Tristan
Eventually, everyone dies. I thought I had made my peace with death, but now that I am confronted with the very real possibility that I might die, I’m not so sure.
The first aftershock is terrible.
It sends debris raining down on top of me, and the noises I hear from above are thunderously loud and awful.
One good thing: I’ve managed to free myself from the debris that had pinned me to the ground. My foot, thankfully, is not crushed, though it is definitely badly bruised. Probably sprained.
Other than the fact that my foot is free and in one piece, I can’t think of any other positives this situation. I’m trapped underground, probably in a partially destroyed parking garage, judging from the many muffled car alarms I hear wailing in the distance.
“Think, Tristan,” I snarl at myself. “Are you going to give up and die here, or are you going to fight this?”
When Warren died, I didn’t give up.
When my father got sick, I didn’t give up.
In all the pain of the last year, the confusion, the grief, I have not given up.
And I’ll be damned if I give up now.
After Warren’s death, there was a long time when I felt like I had nothing to live for. I never thought about taking my own life, but there were days, many days, terrible days, where I thought that, maybe, it would just be better if I didn’t wake up.
But now I know, I see, that there is plenty to live for.
I have my family: Dad, Bobbie, and my Mom. I love them, and even if they don’t need me, I will be there for them. I have made myself that vow, and I refuse to break it.
I have Nick, the man I love. The man who doesn’t know that I love him, because I haven’t had the goddamn courage to say it yet.
And I will not die before I say it.
Everyone dies eventually, but today is not my day.
Clipped to my belt are a small flashlight and a radio. My phone didn’t survive the road collapse or my fall underground, but the radio and flashlight are okay.
I pry the radio free, click it on. “This is Firefighter-Paramedic Tristan Cavanagh with Crew 27. I am trapped underground. Can anyone hear me?”
Garbled static. Nothing else.
Fuck.
I return the radio to my belt and grab the flashlight.
I click it on, shining the light around me.
Looks like I fell into the underground parking garage, possibly multiple levels down.
Rubble has closed the hole above me, and there is no telling how far down I am.
Rough slabs of concrete close me in on all sides, but closer inspection of the slabs behind me reveals that there is a crevice just big enough for me to crawl through.
But… is that a good idea?
I use the flashlight to inspect myself for injuries as best as I can.
My hands are pretty badly scraped, as is the side of my face, and I have a nasty welt on the back of my head.
It doesn’t seem like there are any deep cuts on my face or head, but the scrapes bled pretty badly.
By now, the blood is dried and caked on the side of my face.
The long sleeves of my uniform and my heavy tactical pants protected my arms and legs, but my left foot and ankle still throb.
Before I try to crawl through any crevices in the rubble, I decide to inspect my foot.
Holding my flashlight in my teeth, I sit on a hunk of concrete, unlace my boot, and peel off my sock. Even these small movements send cold pain shooting up my leg. I wince as I shine the light on my foot and ankle.
It’s not a pretty picture.
My limb is swollen, purple, and green. I can move it, so that’s good, but moving it hurts (not good).
Based on my quick, sloppy assessment, nothing is broken, but the bruising is severe, and my ankle is probably sprained. I carefully pull the sock back on and lace my boot as tight as I can, trying to hold my ankle steady and keep the swelling under control.
Breathing steadily, I push myself to my feet and limp to the crevice in the mound of rubble.
I shine my light inside, bending down—my entire body aching—and peer into the makeshift tunnel through the rubble. The gap is small, though I think I could fit through if I crawled on my stomach.
Thank god I’ve never been claustrophobic.
I don’t know if the crevice leads anywhere, but right now, I can’t stand to sit here doing nothing. I’m alive. That’s enough. I have no idea whether my team, Nick, or my family is alive. But I will not stop fighting.