Chapter 20 #2
“Did you ever need an alternative way out?” She glanced sideways at me. “Like, if the lift didn't work? Or there was a power blackout, or equipment failure, or something?”
The question hit me like lightning.
I gasped and snapped my gaze to her face.
Her eyes flew wide. “What?”
I cupped her cheeks and planted a hard kiss on those gorgeous lips, then pulled back. “You're a genius.”
She grinned, breathless. “I am?”
I turned, scanning the endless tunnel ahead, and my heart thudded harder for an entirely different reason. Hope. Actual goddamn hope.
“I installed a leaky feeder system in the newest tunnel as a backup safety measure.”
“A leaky what?” Bella's brow furrowed.
“It's a communication system cable that runs through the tunnel for emergency radios. Come on, let's find a handset.” I grabbed her hand.
She yelped and jerked back.
“Shit! Bella, sorry.” Guilt twisted in my gut. How many times was I going to hurt her before I got my head on straight?
“It's okay.” She pressed her bandaged hand against mine, threading our fingers together despite the pain it must have caused. “Let's go.”
We fell into step side by side, my boots and her one sneaker crunching over grit and loose stone as we pushed deeper into the tunnel. This section was wide enough to drive a dump truck through. The walls were reinforced and clean-cut, still bearing the scars of more recent work.
Further in, the roof would dip, and the tunnel would narrow until the space felt tight. Like the rock itself was leaning closer, daring me to keep going.
These tunnels always tested my nerve.
Some days, I'd had to push myself to walk all the way to the lead tunnel. Back then, I'd been proud of facing my fear. I had thought it was important. Thought it meant my life finally had a purpose.
Fat lot of good that did.
“You sure that leaky thing will work?” Bella asked.
We sidestepped a low trolley abandoned against the wall with five rusty jackhammers sitting inside, stacked neatly like they'd been left for a lunch break that never ended. Over five thousand dollars' worth of gear was slowly rotting into the ground. Goddammed waste of money.
I nodded. “The leaky feeder is the most reliable comms system you can have underground. They’re emergency radios that piggyback off a coaxial cable running through the tunnels. That cable feeds back to a surface repeater.”
Her face lit up. “So we can call for help?”
I wanted to believe the radio was our ticket out of here.
I wanted to save Bella. To do something right for a change.
“If we're lucky.” I kept my voice steady, even though my gut tightened. “The feeder line has to still be intact. And the surface repeater still needs to have power. If either one's been damaged …” I shrugged. There was no point lying to her. “Then it's just an expensive piece of cable.”
“But you know where the radio is.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “At least I hope so. It was kept at the development heading. The newest tunnel.” I swallowed. “That's always the most dangerous section.”
“Oh.” Concern crossed her face.
Her concern matched my own.
That section had partially collapsed. It was the final straw that killed my dream of dragging this mine into the present.
We rounded a bend, and a squat, low-slung machine loomed out of the shadows ahead, blocking half the tunnel like a stubborn rhino refusing to move.
Bella pointed. “What's that?”
“That,” I said, unable to stop the corner of my mouth from twitching, “is Scooby.”
She laughed. A soft, feminine sound that echoed down the tunnel and hit me square in the chest. “Scooby?”
“Battery-powered load–haul–dump machine called a scooptram.” I gestured toward it. “Scooptram became Scooby.”
She grinned. “That's cute.”
“What would be cute is if Scooby actually worked,” I muttered. “If the power that's been running since those bastards fired up the generators has been feeding the charging circuit, we'll be able to drive to the end of this tunnel.”
I picked up my pace.
The machine looked intact. It was dusty as hell, with the yellow paint dulled beneath years of neglect, but exhibited no obvious damage. No smashed hydraulics. No torn cables.
And it should've been fine. Scooby had been brand new when I’d bought it. Top of the line. Electric. Quiet. Efficient.
Six months later, the mine had shut down, and Scooby was abandoned, along with everything else.
I'd tried to sell the equipment after the collapse. Tried to claw back anything I could.
But apparently, nobody wanted reminders of failed mining projects.
I climbed onto the operator's platform, and the seat creaked under my weight as I leaned forward and flipped the master switch.
A small indicator light blinked on. Huh, good sign.
My breath caught as I turned the key.
Nothing.
I tried again. The console flickered, then went dead. I checked the battery indicator, but it was dead.
I sat there for a beat longer, wondering if I could hotwire it somehow. Who was I kidding? Kayden was the mechanic in the family. If he were here, he'd have Scooby purring in seconds. I climbed down. “No luck,” I said, forcing my voice to be neutral. “Battery's been dead too long.”
Bella gave me a tired smile. “That's okay. I don't mind walking.”
Of course, she didn't.
She never complained. Not about the burns or her hunger pains. Or the fact that she'd nearly died several times. She must be absolutely exhausted. Bella truly was incredible.
I resisted the urge to hold her hand again and pointed ahead. “The radio should be at the end of this tunnel.”
As we moved deeper into the mine, the tunnel sloped downward, and the air grew cooler yet somehow heavier. The string of LED lights along the left tunnel wall gave us enough visibility to move safely.
With each step, my emotions careened between pride and failure. This tunnel was newer ground. My ground. The part of the project I'd made happen despite Dad's constant negativity. This hole existed because of me. I'd fought for it, bled for it, believed in it.
I should’ve stuck to accounting. That's what I’m good at.
The tunnel was reinforced with metal support beams held together with bolts that showed a strange mix of ages. Some were mottled with rust, others were still clean enough to catch the light and gleam like new.
“Who are you going to call when we get to the radio?” Bella asked.
“I can't call someone specifically. It doesn't work like that. The radio links to a surface repeater, and that unit's tied into a base station up top.”
Bella frowned. “Meaning?”
“Meaning if the repeater's still alive, the call routes straight to the mine office first. That room we first went into when we entered the mine.” God, that felt like a week ago.
“Shit. That's no help, nobody's there.”
“No, but I also had it programmed so any calls that didn't get answered were forwarded to my office in the homestead. Like a failsafe. In case anything happened here.” I swallowed hard.
“Excellent.” Her footsteps slowed. “Hopefully, someone will hear your phone ringing in your office.”
I nodded, letting myself hold onto a sliver of hope. “And as long as the system still has power after all this time.”
“And if it doesn't?”
“Then that's our next problem to solve.”
“Right. Okay then.” Her voice brightened with that stubborn determination I was starting to recognize. “Let's hope the system has power.”
And that the radio hadn't been crushed when the tunnel gave way.
The passage dipped again, narrowing as we pushed deeper into the mountain.
Ahead, tons of rock and dust had collapsed inward, nearly sealing off the newest section.
I knew for a fact that the tunnel wasn't completely blocked in the collapse, because every one of my men had made it out through the gaps before I’d shut the mine down.
Unlike the poor men we'd found earlier—men who’d never seen daylight again, or their families.
I shoved that miserable thought away before it crushed me.
“What's the first thing you're going to do when we get out?” Bella asked. Her tone was light, almost cheerful as if she were trying too hard to cheer me up. Her smile took my breath away.
Kiss you. Truly kiss you. Take my time and do it right.
The thought hit hard and fast, my body reacting before my brain could catch up. Heat flared low in my groin, and I shot her a sideways glance.
But she wasn't smiling anymore. A flicker of uneasiness crossed her face as she stared ahead.
The tunnel narrowed into a jagged choke point where the ceiling had slumped and fractured, broken rock piled shoulder-high across our path.
We'd reached the edge of the collapse.
And our only hope of a rescue was on the other side.