Chapter 1 #3
“Then, to make matters worse, Ezra dropped the flashlight and it went off. We couldn’t find it again to try to shake it back to life.
So we started to panic. Like really panic.
Ezra was crying. I was crying. Then he stopped and said, ‘Can’t Jesus be our light?
’ I told him it didn’t actually work that way.
And he said it did. We argued until he started to really cry.
Like wail. What we hadn’t noticed in the deeper cave was that there were bats all over the ceiling.
When he began to scream, they started flying.
Hundreds of them. Of course, we ducked and hit the ground.
When we did, my hand landed on the flashlight.
I shook it back to life and grabbed Ezra’s hand.
I figured if the bats were leaving, we could follow them.
So we crawled on our hands and knees, following the direction they went.
When we made it back to the wide cavern, my grandfather stood there.
And oh boy, he was out of his mind with worry.
He’d seen the bats pouring out and gone to investigate.
When he spotted us—” Noah paused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so mad. ”
“I’m sure he was just scared.”
“No doubt he was. When he calmed down and listened to the whole story, he said that God had led us out with the bats.”
“And you believed that?”
Noah hesitated. His spine tensed next to her. “I did.”
The use of past tense didn’t escape her. “And now?”
He didn’t answer and just held her hand.
But she couldn’t let it go. She offered his hand another squeeze. “And now?”
“My grandfather quoted a verse that day. John 1:5, ‘The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.’ And it did seem that’s what happened.”
“But?”
“That’s a story for another day.” His voice dropped. “But I got out of that cave before and we’ll get out of this one.”
“I’m surprised you ever went back in a cave again.”
“I think my love of adventure was born that day. I refused to let nature win.”
She released a small chuckle. “You are such a control freak. You even have to try to control nature.”
“I am not a control freak.”
“You always assign yourself to the most dangerous jobs.”
“I’m the boss.”
“Most bosses delegate. You need to trust your team more. Liam and Teague are good at their jobs.”
“I know that.”
She shrugged and shifted her headlamp. That’s when she saw it.
A glint in the shadows. Tucked behind a jagged rock formation near the far wall.
Solid. Angular. Like…the treasure chest Nimue had found.
Her heart lurched.
The gold? Could it really be in here?
She opened her mouth to tell Noah, but Lydia gasped—a sharp, choking sound. Meg’s head whipped back. Lydia’s eyes were wide and glassy with pain, with her fingers clawing at her chest.
No. No, no, no!
“Noah, help me!” Meg’s voice cracked as she leaned over, her hands flying to Lydia’s neck.
The pulse was erratic—racing, then slowing. All wrong.
Meg pressed her stethoscope to Lydia’s chest—no breath sounds on the left. Now the right was muffled. Trachea deviated. Jugular veins bulging. Skin clammy and pale, lips darkening to purple.
“Cardiac tamponade.” The whisper was thick with horror.
The trauma to Lydia’s chest must have caused bleeding around her heart, with fluid building up and squeezing the organ until it couldn’t pump. Meg had seen it resolved in the ER.
They didn’t have a hope of resolving it here.
Blood was crushing Lydia’s heart.
“Noah, she’s going into cardiac arrest.”
“What do we do?” His voice was steady, that ranger calm. But his eyes were wide.
“Pericardiocentesis.” Her voice shook. “I need to drain the fluid around her heart. But I don’t have the right catheter—” She fumbled through her bag with shaking hands and pulled out a fourteen-gauge needle—too short, too wide, wrong for this procedure.
It was a desperate move. But Lydia’s lips were turning blue and her pulse was fading beneath Meg’s fingers.
There was no time.
“Hold her steady.”
Noah’s hands clamped onto Lydia’s upper arms, his jaw set as he nodded.
Meg’s hands shook as she aimed for the subxiphoid space. Her mind raced through every complication.
Lord, I need Your help.
But just like always, the words didn’t seem to reach higher than the ceiling.
Don’t hit the lung. Don’t hit an artery. Don’t—
She pushed the needle in—slow, steady, holding her breath until she felt the pop.
Blood-tinged fluid dribbled out. Lydia’s breathing eased for a moment and her chest rose a little more.
Relief surged—then vanished like smoke.
Lydia’s pulse faded beneath Meg’s fingers. Her breaths grew shallow.
“No, no, no.” Meg pressed harder on the needle and tried to draw more fluid. But it wasn’t enough. The damage was too severe.
Lydia’s eyes fluttered. Then her breath stilled.
“Lydia!” Meg’s voice broke as she started CPR, her hands pumping the girl’s sternum. “Come on, stay with me!”
Noah’s hands joined hers and took over compressions when hers faltered.
But Meg knew it was too late.
The fluid had crushed Lydia’s heart. No CPR could restart what had been compressed beyond function.
A grinding crunch echoed through the passage. Then a beam of light pierced the darkness as voices called out.
The South Rim SAR team burst in—five of them, with headlamps slicing through the dust and a backboard slung between them. The team dropped to their knees as two took over CPR.
Meg stumbled back, her boots slipping on blood-slick stone. She watched as they worked, their voices calling out vitals and procedures.
But she knew. There was no hope. Not now. Not here.
Noah’s hand found her arm and pulled her toward the narrow opening where sunlight now spilled through. “Meg, come on.” His voice was raw but firm.
She stumbled after him, her legs moving on autopilot. She wanted to scream, to run. But her limbs carried her forward and scraped against rocks that tore at her uniform.
They emerged into the canyon.
The air hit her like a slap—hot, dry, too bright after the cave’s darkness. The sun blinding.
Lydia’s brother, Jeremy, was there.
“Where is…”
She had no words as she faced him, his face streaked with dust and tears and his eyes wild, darting between her and the cave entrance.
A beat passed as he took in the blood on her hands, the expression on her face, and the way the SAR team wasn’t rushing.
And then he lunged at her. “You let her die!”
Noah caught him, stepped between them, and placed his hands on the kid’s shoulders. “Step back. Calm down.”
Jeremy pushed away from Noah and pointed at her. “You were supposed to save her, you useless—” His words cut off in a sob. Then he crouched with his hands over his head.
Meg flinched and was unable to move even as the words sliced into her.
She’d failed. Again.
God hadn’t answered. Again.
Jeremy looked up at her now, his expression wrecked. “You—”
Noah moved to block Jeremy’s view of her, his six-four frame suddenly a wall. “It wasn’t her fault.”
He grabbed Meg’s hand and pulled her past Jeremy, past the others who’d gathered—Eddie with his face buried in his hands, Diana cradling her arm—down the path toward the Rim.
She put her head down. The canyon air couldn’t chase away the chill in her bones.
Noah walked her away from them, down the trail and past boulders that could hide them. Then he let her go.
She sank to her knees on the sunbaked gravel, sharp stones biting into her skin and her hands still trembling. Lydia’s pale, still face burned into her mind.
Noah crouched in front of her, and his hand squeezed her shoulder.
But she couldn’t look at him. Not now. Not with the truth burning in her chest.
Again, she hadn’t been enough.