14. Thea
FOURTEEN
THEA
Thea had pulled the headset off the moment they entered the shaft.
The overlapping voices of the Net had become a jagged wall of noise that threatened to shatter her ability to process the mountain.
Beside her, she could hear the faint, frantic chatter leaking from the bone-conduction headset still clamped to Ben’s temples: a constant, low-frequency reminder of the chaos he was shielding her from.
The tunnel was a throat, and it was closing.
Data point, she thought, her fingers brushing the damp stone. The granite walls are forty-eight degrees. My internal core temperature is dropping. Ben’s hand on my shoulder is ninety-eight degrees. He is the only constant.
“Watch the ledge, Thea,” Ben said. His voice wasn’t the hard, clipped tone he used with the SEALs. It was the low, steady rumble he used back at the ranch to calm a spooked colt. “Easy now. I’ve got you. Just one step at a time.”
Thea’s breath hitched as a tremor rolled through the stone, sending a trickle of grit down her neck. “Thea-logic says we shouldn’t be here, Ben. The vibration is hitting 4.2. The silt is liquefying.”
“I don’t care what the logic says, Thea,” Ben leaned close to her ear and whispered, his hand sliding down to squeeze hers. His palm was calloused and warm, a startling contrast to the damp cold of the mine. “I care what you say. Tell me where to put my feet.”
“Stay on the iron rails,” she managed, her voice sounding small and echoing against the wet granite.
Reef’s voice cut in from the shadows behind them. “Grizzly, I’ve got movement in the shaft behind us. Acoustic sensors: Vanguard is dropping thumpers into the main tunnel. They’re trying to find our echo.”
Grizzly didn’t look back. He kept his eyes on the back of Thea’s head. “Let them thump. They’re looking for a way out. They’re looking for a squad, not three ghosts in a silver mine. How’s the air, Reef?”
“Thickening,” Reef replied. Thea could hear the metallic clack of him checking his weapon. “The ‘inhale’ is pulling the surface air down, but it’s bringing the facility’s smoke with it. We need to hit that bypass soon.”
They reached the bypass, a jagged, square hole four feet off the floor.
Ben hoisted Thea up, his hands effortless and certain.
For a brief moment, he was struck by the softness of her form beneath his palms, traces of the girl he once knew replaced by the woman she had become over fourteen years.
As she slid into the crawlspace, the wind hit her: a cold, violent gale that smelled of sulfur and ozone.
She crawled forward, her fingers raw from the grit. Behind her, she heard the sound of Ben’s massive frame forcing itself into the twenty-four-inch gap. The scrape of his clothing against rough edges and the sudden catch of his belt made her stomach turn.
“Ben, stop,” she whispered, her anxiety spiking into a Data Loop. “You’re too big.”
Data point: The clearance is insufficient for your shoulder-width. You’re going to get stuck, and the CO2 levels are rising, and if you get stuck, Reef can’t get past, and—
“Thea.” Ben’s voice was right at her heels, strained but incredibly calm. “Look at me.”
She twisted her head around. In the dim red light of his tactical watch, Ben’s face was a mask of sweat and grit, but his eyes were locked on hers.
“I am not getting stuck,” he said, each word a slow, deliberate promise. “I’ve spent eighteen years trying to keep up with you and Carole in these woods. I’m not stopping now. You just keep crawling toward that light. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.
“He’s fine, Doc,” Reef’s voice came from further back, careful and almost gentle, but when his gaze shifted to Grizzly’s backside, it turned sarcastic. “The big guy’s just got a lot of tactical mass. I’m right on his six. If he stops, I’ll kick his ass on through. Keep moving.”
Thea pushed forward, the ceiling scraping her back. She realized then that Ben was acting as a physical plug. His body was shielding her from the violent vacuum pressure being pulled through the bypass.
Data point: I am the navigator, but he is the armor.
“I see the light,” she gasped, her hand hitting a rusted iron grate.
Ben’s hand reached past her, his fingers brushing her arm as he keyed his headset. “Ranch Lead, we’re at the threshold. Give us the curtain. Drop the foam. Now!”
Thea didn’t hear the response, only the sudden, sharp silence of the comms chatter from Ben’s comms as Mace executed the command and a moment later, a muffled whump echoed from above.
“Foam is down,” Grizzly grunted. He surged forward, his shoulder slamming into the rusted iron. With a roar of pure, rancher-bred fury, he ripped the grate from the stone.
“Out, Thea! Go!”
She scrambled through the opening, her lungs burning as she hit the fresh, cold mountain air. She expected to see a sniper; instead, she saw a world of white. The entire silo roof was buried in three feet of thick, high-expansion fire foam.
A shadow broke through the white: Picasso, wearing a respirator.
“Atlantic One has the Doc!” Picasso’s voice boomed.
Ben hauled himself out a second later, followed by Reef. Ben didn’t look at the SEALs or the foam. He reached out and grabbed Thea’s hand, his thumb tracing a small, grounding circle on her palm.
“Data point,” Ben panted, his eyes searching hers for any sign of a break. His gaze softened and shone with admiration. “We’re out of the dark, Thea. You did it. That smart brain of yours saved us and got us out. You kept your head and stayed strong.”
Thea looked at the mountain behind them. The Stone Ribs were glowing an angry, violent purple in the night, reflecting off the white foam like a bruise on the snow. “We’re not out yet, Ben. The mountain hasn’t finished its breath.”