Underground 4 (26 page)

“She's not here,” Lake replied.

He stopped just in front of her. “Is she...okay?”

Did he seem nervous? Lake couldn't make sense of this man.

“She's better,” she said. While she didn't really want to talk about her friends with him, she felt like she needed to ease some of his worry. Why? She wasn't sure. Really she shouldn't care. So why did she?

“Good,” he said, seeming genuinely relieved. They stood in an awkward silence before his gaze finally left her to look past where she stood to the store. “Going shopping?”

She shifted from one foot to another. “I was going to leave money.” Again, why did she care what he thought?

He snorted in amusement. “I don't doubt you would. How did you get so good with locks?”

When he looked back at her, she had to suck in a breath at the light, playfulness she read in his eyes.

“Y-you tend to pick up certain trades in the ghetto,” she stuttered.

He chuckled. “I bet.”

Silence fell over them again as they regarded each other. Finally, Lake voiced the foremost question on her mind for the second time. “What are you doing here, Ludwig?”

He seemed to take pleasure in her calling him by name, which in turn had her cheeks burning.

“I-” he paused. Then with a sigh, he looked away and shook his head. “I don't really know. This was the only place that felt like the right choice to me.”

She tilted her head at him, trying to make sense of that reply. “What other choices were there?” she wondered out loud.

He shrugged. “Too many to count. I have my arms dealer here, urging me to simply blow up the Community Center -”

Lake gasped. “You can't do that! There are so many innocent people in there.”

He held out a hand to stop her. “I know. I've already said that won't happen, but it hasn't stopped him from constantly suggesting it.” He took another deep breath. “Then I have a psycho ex-employee holding a whole town as hostages unless I step down. Not to mention whatever the rest of you rebels are up to.” He shook his head, and Lake could see just how tired he was. “My men are restless and yet I feel as though my hands are tied.”

“You will not back down then?”

“And allow
Douglas Hatcher
to become the new ruler? Letting him kill everyone instead seems more merciful than that. The man is completely insane. I can't just walk away from everything and leave it for
him
. If he even allowed me to. Knowing him, he'd demand my execution as well.”

“Some would say you are also insane, and yet you've ruled now for almost a decade.”

He gave her a tight smile. “No need to mince words, sweetheart. We both know it is more than “some” who have that opinion of me. I'd disagree though - of course. I am not insane. Simply hardwired to want things most people would balk at because of the means necessary to achieve them.”

She huffed. “Sounds like a lame excuse.”

He teetered his head back and forth, another small smile tugging at his lips. “Perhaps,” he conceded.

Lake wondered what he would look like with a full blown smile - one that was natural, not forced or contrived.

“So out of all those things,” she asked, “where do I suddenly fit in?”

He raised his eyebrows in question. “Honestly?”

She shrugged. Why else would she ask if not to hear his truth?

“Because I couldn't get you out of my mind,” he said simply. Her breathing became labored as her face heated again. He stepped closer to her so that his scent now invaded her senses.

“I sit there and wonder which path I should take. Which would be less destructive, less devastating to all those involved? And then I see a path not travelled. One that takes me away from all of this. Allows someone else to pick up the reins and bring this world to a new conclusion...or beginning perhaps. A path that is just as appealing to me as the one I'm on now was, when I first set out on it. Except that path doesn't just have my footprints along it, it also has another's - right by my side.”

The way he was staring into her eyes had goose bumps rising all over her body. Surely he didn't mean...? The man must be insane, she thought. There was no way she would abandon all the people she loved to run away with him, and pretend as though their past lives never existed. Even if his face had secretly filled her dreams as of late. There were just some things that could never be forgotten.

“I can see that you aren't ready to even consider such an option,” he said.

“I will never,” she whispered, her voice suddenly gone. “How could you even-?”

“I didn't,” he said, somewhat sadly. Don't care, Lake, she scolded herself. “But then I was prepared to persuade you otherwise.”

As he took another step toward her, she took one back, hitting the door behind her. His body came almost flush to hers, his eyes both pleading and apologetic. Before she could say another word, she felt a slight prick on her side.

Lake looked down to see his hand near her hip, where a needle now protruded. When she raised her eyes to him again, the world tilted violently. Her body started to slip to one side until he grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her against him.

“What did you do?” she asked. Or, at least, she tried to. Her mouth no longer seemed to work as blackness started to dot her vision.

“I'm sorry, beautiful girl,” he said, his expression looking disappointed, almost remorseful.

She shouted every curse word she could think of, although none made it out of her mouth as she started to slip away.

“Sleep, Lake,” he said. “Sleep.”

And she did, no matter how hard she fought not to. The world slipped away, her last vision of Ludwig Tennebris.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

No more explosions had gone off. Once Bastian and his men had secured everything, everyone began to file back inside. After a sleepless night, Phoenix was one of the first people by the caved in tunnel the next day. Not long after, Pete and Bastian arrived, followed by Tyler, Roman, and a couple of Bastian's men.

They stood before the disaster, each of them wearing an identical gloomy look.

“What a fucking mess,” Bastian muttered.

“An understatement,” one of his men murmured.

Phoenix was itching to get started. Who cares if it was a mess? It was just dirt! Trent had been in there for a whole night. They needed to start moving some of it - now!

Roman walked closer, rubbing his chin as he surveyed it.

“What are you thinking?” Pete asked him, walking up to stand beside Roman.

“I'm thinking we could have a bigger problem on our hands than we think,” he said.

Phoenix's heart sank. “Can't we just start some sort of assembly line and move the dirt out of here?” she suggested.

Roman glanced over at her, his eyes not showing much promise. “It's not that easy,” he said. “We don't know how much more of the ceiling will cave in once we start moving what's beneath it.”

Shit. She hadn't thought of that.

“How did you do it before?” Pete asked, turning to Bastian.

He didn't look optimistic either. “A lot of it had already been here,” he said. “It was once a secret military base. For the expansions we used equipment to dig it out as we packed the surrounding walls and built temporary beams to support it before we could pour concrete.” He looked at all of them. “It's not that we can't do it again, the problem is...” he trailed off, looking torn.

“What?” Phoenix urged. “What's the problem?”

“It takes time,” one of his guys answered. “And your man has already been under there for almost twenty-four hours.”

The blood drained from her face. They didn't think he would be alive. That's what Bastian wasn't saying. He didn't think they'd be able to reach him in time if they had to rebuild the tunnel. That was...if he'd even survived the initial explosion.

“If we start digging with the machines,” the guy continued, “and he's buried there, we risk catching him with the machine and it could be fatal.”

She thought she heard Pete swear, but she wasn't sure. Her ears had started to buzz, blocking out whatever else they were saying as her eyes stayed riveted on the wall of earth blocking her from her man.

That's right, Trent was her man. And if God allowed, she would make sure he knew it the second they got him out of there.
Please let them save him
, she thought.

“It's our only option as this point,” Tyler was saying. “Using machines is too dangerous. We need to do it by hand.”

Bastian nodded. “Very well. I'll get more men here to start. We'll need more supplies to support the walls.”

“We should have someone from Medical here too, just in case,” his guy said.

They all started to move, intent on getting started right away, but Phoenix found her feet frozen to the spot. She couldn't leave him, not again.

Hands gripped her arms. She looked up at Pete who had an expression of pity in his eyes. The same expression that everyone seemed to have whenever they looked at her ever since all of this had begun.

“Why don't you go to the kitchen with Missy and Charlotte,” he said. “If anything changes, someone will come and get you right away, I promise.”

Her eyes burned as she felt her lip tremble. She was not the lip-trembling kind of girl, and yet here she was. She was a mess.

“I can't,” she said, her voice cracking. Ugh, her voice
did not
crack! Who was she? It was as though not having the big, burly oaf by her side was making her weaker. She needed Trent back, safe and well. “I have to stay and help. Please. Don't make me go.”

He pressed his lips together, giving her arms a quick squeeze. “Okay,” he said. She let out a relieved breath, thankful he wasn't going to force her away.

“But be warned, Phoenix,” he said, making her body stiffen again. “I don't know what we'll find. There's a lot of earth there...the chances he made it...”

She swallowed past the ache in her throat. “I need to stay.”

He nodded again, letting her go.

He needed a haircut. Blowing strands out of his eyes, for what felt like the millionth time, Trent pushed another piece of wood from the table into the small tunnel he'd created. He'd worked non-stop, losing track of just how much time had passed.

Adrenaline alone was pushing him forward. Weariness pulled at every muscle in his body, but he ignored it. There would be time later to rest. Right now, all that mattered was to keep working to get to Phoenix.

His shoulder ached badly, just another thing he had to force his mind to ignore. The lump that had since formed on the back of his skull told him he likely had a concussion too, not that it mattered. He could be bleeding out and he'd still push himself.

Crawling through the small opening, he pushed the wood past the first two poles he'd placed to keep the other boards up, and then shimmied around it himself. Working in the tight space was probably his worst nightmare, especially for a guy his size.

There was barely enough room for him to move around the poles, but he managed, crawling along on his tummy to the newest section he'd removed dirt from.

Lifting the board up, he reached back for the pole he'd stuck in his pants, pulling it forward. Twisting around on his back, he lifted the board up, wedging the wooden pole in under it.

Everything was done by feeling. No light could reach this far in. This was worse than when they'd travelled from the eastern ghetto to the western in coffins. Here it really did feel as though he'd been buried alive. It took all he had to keep working and not lose his nerve. He wasn't a man who was easily scared, but this got the hairs on his neck standing on end.

Sweat dripped down the sides of his face as he twisted again. Testing his latest makeshift support, he moved past it toward the next wall of dirt he had to remove.

How far would he have to dig? That question haunted him the further he went. At some point he would run out of pieces of table and legs, and then what? All this work would have been for nothing.

Don't think about it, he ordered himself. At least he was keeping busy. It was better than just sitting in that small room, with only his worst imaginings running through his mind. This gave him something to occupy his time.

Using his hands, he began to dig again, pushing the dirt behind him. It was a long, tedious task. He could only go so far before he'd have to bring the dirt back out, packing some of it beneath him to create a harder floor to the tunnel, while the rest he pushed out of the tunnel and into the empty space.

Already the room had numerous piles of dirt. Trent worked, his mind focused on what he needed to do, and not on what might await him on the other side. Dig, dig, dig, that's all he could do. Days could have gone by for all he knew. His life had distilled down to this simple act. Dig for freedom.

As he scooped out another section he froze. Was that voices? He quieted his breathing, listening. There was a murmur of something on the other side of the wall. Could it be? Or was he hallucinating? That was entirely possible.

He hadn't had food or water, not to mention he had a head injury. Stuck between layers of earth, with no light or fresh air, it was likely his mind had begun to play tricks on him.