Authors: Vanessa Kier
Tags: #Fiction:Romance:Suspense, #Fiction:Romance:Military, #Fiction:Thriller:Military, #Fiction:Thrillers:Suspense, #Fiction:Action & Adventure
“Max? Max, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
Her stomach pitched. “Max? Answer me. Please.”
Silence.
“No. I won’t let you be dead. You hear me, Max Lansing?” Muttering curses in as many languages as she knew, she wriggled forward a few more inches, freezing when the edge of the crater collapsed no more than a foot in front of her.
When the ground stabilized, she called out again. “Max? Can you hear me?”
A faint response filtered out of the hole. “Here.”
She whooped in joy. He was alive! The world blurred behind a curtain of tears. Swiping at her face, she blinked the moisture away. She didn’t have
time
to cry.
“Pull,” Max called weakly. “Jeep.”
“Hang on!” She crawled away from the edge. Once she reached a safe distance, she stood up, raced to the driver’s seat, and put the Jeep in gear. The tires slipped in the mud and it took her a moment to figure out how to compensate. Then she inched the vehicle forward. She didn’t want to move too fast. If Max was hanging from the rope, not braced on some protrusion along the side of the crater, then his arms would be killing him. Not to mention the strain on his cracked ribs. And the fall might have torn open the wound in his back.
She needed to haul him up carefully. Slowly.
No matter how strongly her instincts insisted she had to get Max out of there
now
.
FEET RESTING ON some unidentifiable, narrow surface, Max spat another clump of dirt out of his mouth and tightened his two-handed grip on the mud-slicked rope. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the stuff covering his head, but only succeeded in getting dirt in his eyes. Damn, that hurt. He shut his tearing eyes. If only—
The rope jerked him up. He gasped at the sudden pull, then promptly coughed as dirt slipped into his mouth. When his upward motion stopped, he stuck his toes in the wall of earth in front of him and rested his head against it.
Bad idea. Water slid down the surface, turning the dirt under his cheek to mud and dissolving his foothold. Only his hold on the rope saved him from plummeting into the hole.
Great. Just what he needed, a slippery wall to climb. For once, couldn’t life cut him a break?
Eyes still closed, Max hunted around with his toes until he found what felt like a rock sticking out from the side of the crater. Then he waited for the next lift.
Between the incremental pulls from Emily and his novice attempts at blind climbing, he made steady progress. But he really wished he had some idea of how far he had yet to go. Did he have feet? Inches? Yards?
Christ, he hoped the top was near. His arms were shaking, he had rope burn on his hands, and his wounded leg had pretty much gone numb. When sensation returned, he’d be in a shitload of pain.
Yeah, like he should complain. He was just lucky to be able to feel anything. He could have been dead.
Right. Not going there.
He waited for the next tug on the rope, to time his foot moving up. When it didn’t come, his heart thumped. He spat out the remaining dirt from his mouth. “Emily?” His voice was little more than a whisper.
Dammit, he should have told her to run. Even though the tremors had stopped, that didn’t mean she wasn’t in danger from any rebels who’d decided to come back this way to check their handiwork. Or maybe Ziegler had finally found them. If he caught her…
“Emily!” This time, fear gave him the strength to vocalize loudly. If she was nearby, she’d hear him.
He rubbed his eyes against his arm, but that only smeared mud over his lids. He cracked open his lids, but the world was just a brown blur. Growling in frustration because he had no idea how far he was from her, he closed his eyes and shouted, “Dammit, Emily, say something. Are you okay?”
“Sorry!”
Max’s body sagged. He’d never heard a sweeter word.
“I had to make adjustments to the pulley system. I’m back now.”
“Don’t do that again without warning me first! You nearly gave me a heart attack, thinking you’d been captured by the rebels.”
“Oh…” He imagined her brows scrunching together in that cute way she had when she was surprised or confused. “Um…all right. Give me a sec to get into position. I’m not going to use the Jeep for this part. I’m going to use a pulley system to pull you out on my own. I can just see the top of your head. The good news is you don’t have far to go. The bad news is this final distance will be tricky. You’ll see a big root system sticking out to your right in about three or four feet. If you can aim for that, it should give you enough leverage to boost yourself up to the rim, then I’ll grab you and help you the last few feet.”
God, he loved her strength. Not many people would still have the energy to pull him out of this hellhole after everything Emily had been through.
He heard dirt shift as she moved away.
“Wait!” he called up.
“What?”
“I can’t see. I’ve got dirt in my eyes. You’re going to have to talk me through this.”
“Oh. All right. I’ll give you five more pulls, then I’ll pause to come back to the edge to look down and tell you where you are. Okay?”
“Yes.” No. He didn’t want to lose the sound of her voice. Hadn’t realized how being alone in the dark had affected him until he heard her speak. Hadn’t recognized until now that the pressure in his chest was due to fear for her safety. But he had to let her do her job. “Go ahead.”
“Good. Give me until the count of ten to get over to the pulley. One, one-thousand…”
Right on the count of ten, Max felt another tug on the rope. The brief rest had done him good, and he pushed off with a bit more strength than last time. He almost forgot to count the tugs, though. What he thought was five counts later, he heard Emily’s voice.
“Excellent. You’re just slightly above and to the left of the roots. Perhaps the length of two of your arms. Can you sidle sideways until I tell you to stop?”
Hell. At this point, he’d let go and fall if she told him he’d be okay. Moving his good leg sideways wasn’t a problem. But while he’d been able to move his bad leg vertically and put some weight on it, the lateral movement caused a sharp tear of pain. He clenched his teeth and leaned his head against the dirt as he rode out the wave of agony.
“Max? What’s wrong? Is it your leg?”
He had to wait until the pain subsided before he could answer. “Yeah.”
“This isn’t going to work, is it? You can’t put weight on the leg going sideways.”
“Yes. I. Can.” He spat out every word. “I am getting out of this hole. Now.” O-kay. That sounded a bit panicked. But dammit, the pain had thrown his sense of balance off and he didn’t know how much longer he could stay oriented before dizziness caused him to fall. He was
not
going to leave Em on her own.
Taking a chance, he let go of the rope with his right hand, found a handhold in the dirt, and used what little strength remained to drag himself sideways until he touched a root.
“Good. You’ve reached the outer roots. Keep going.”
Max inched his right hand and foot over, following Emily’s concise, matter-of-fact instructions.
“Okay, now. Reach up with your right foot. There’s a root about the size of your biceps sticking out at roughly knee level.” Her voice painted such a clear picture, Max almost forgot that he couldn’t see. And her voice calmed the part of him that was on the verge of panic.
“If you can stand on that, you should be able to reach the top.”
“Is the edge stable?” he asked. He felt around for the root, then slowly hoisted himself up.
“This section of road seems to be propped up by that root system. There’s another root sticking out of the ground a little bit closer to safety. I think your arms are long enough to—”
His hand eagerly closed over the bent root, eliciting a laugh. The sound of her laughter sent another spiral of dizziness through him. This was a good dizziness, though. Her laugh made him happy.
Unfortunately, it also messed with his balance and he felt himself start to pitch backward.
“Oh, no, you don’t!”
The rope he held in his other hand snapped taut, stopping his momentum and pulling him up onto his toes. “Get up here, Lansing. Now.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Using what felt like the last of his strength, Max pushed and pulled himself over the edge of the crater, aware that Emily also tugged on the rope. He slowed when he made it all the way out, but she wouldn’t let him rest.
“Following the wise advice of someone I know, you need to get away from the edge, Max.”
He knew she was right. But goddamn, he was tired. Now that he didn’t have to hold up his weight, the trembling in his arms rivaled the quake caused by the explosion.
“Come on, Max.” Emily’s soft, cajoling tone cut through his exhaustion. “You can do it. Just a little farther.”
Those last few feet were agony. He almost passed out a couple of times. But Emily’s voice kept him anchored. Like his drill instructor back in the Marines, she berated him. She seemed to understand that giving him orders would spur him to just…keep…going…
“Okay. You can rest now. I think we’re far enough away.”
He collapsed face down. Started to open his mouth to tell her thank you, but darkness consumed him.
EMILY STROKED MAX’S filthy hair back from his face. Blood from a gouge on his temple still trailed sluggishly down to his cheek. A thick smear of mud covered his eyes.
Pouring a little water on her bandana, she gently wiped the blood and dirt away. Then she took a long drink.
Now that Max was safe, the tension that had kept her alert started to ease. Fear crept in and her hands trembled.
Stop that.
She had to get them both to the Jeep and off the road in case the rebels showed up.
Pushing to her feet, she jogged to the Jeep. Having learned how to manipulate it on the muddy road, she backed up slowly until she couldn’t get any closer without putting them both in danger of destabilizing the rim.
She tossed a tarp over the sleeping bags to protect them from Max’s muddy clothes. Then she returned to him. “Max?” What if he didn’t wake up? She wasn’t strong enough to get him into the cargo compartment herself.
He opened his eyes.
Smiling in relief, she knelt beside him. “Can you help me get you into the Jeep, or should I use the tarp to drag you?”
He bent his arm, tried to lever himself up, then fell back with a grunt.
“I said help me, you idiot,” she grumbled, putting her arm underneath his upper back. “Not force yourself to pass out from over exertion. Now, let’s try that again.”
With her support, he managed to get first onto his hands and knees, then eventually all the way to his feet. He swayed a moment, leaning so heavily on her that she stumbled forward. That brought him close enough to catch hold of the Jeep’s back door handle. With that additional support, they got him into the cargo compartment and onto the tarp.
“Comfy?” she asked, tucking the tarp around him like a blanket.
“It’ll do.”
She smiled at him. Thankfully, aside from the gouge on his forehead, he didn’t appear to have any major new wounds, although the rope burns on his palms had to sting. “God, Max, I was so scared.”
“Yeah, me too.” He latched onto her hand. “I’m sorry you had to rescue me, Em. Thanks.”
She knew how much that had to have hurt his male pride. Knew how much she’d hated being an invalid after the acid attack. “You’re welcome. But I think we’re even now, since you saved my life by getting me away from the way station before Ziegler or his companions could kill me. Now, rest. I’ll get us out of here.”
“Keep aiming for the border,” he demanded. “It’s safer.” He closed his eyes on the last, barely whispered word and passed out.
Emily watched him a moment. Relief that they’d survived turned her legs to jelly. A lone tear escaped and crept down her cheek. She bent forward and kissed Max lightly on the lips, then shut the cargo compartment door.
Time to get back on the road. She sent a wary look toward the sky as she slid into her seat. Not only was rain threatening again, but the light was fading. She only had about an hour and a half until dark on a sunny day. With the cloud cover, a lot less than that.
Okay. She could do this. Aware that driving on the road was dangerous, but unable to find a clear path through the jungle, she headed north.
Several times Max groaned so loudly, she stopped to check on him. His temperature kept rising and she worried that he was fighting malaria or some other parasite she couldn’t counteract. She did manage to get him to swallow some water laced with crushed aspirin and antibiotic. She wanted to strip Max of his clothes and wash both them and him, but not only didn’t she have the time, she was afraid of depleting their diminishing water supply.
Each time she finishing tending to him, she found it harder to return to her seat and dredge up the energy to wrestle with the stiff steering. Particularly once the skies opened up again and the mud deepened, sucking at the tires.
Even though Max had warned against it, she kept an eye out for a village or some other place where they could stop. She couldn’t keep going much—
A large truck lumbered into sight down the road. Oh, God. Oh, God. It looked like one of the rebel troop transports. What if they spotted her? They’d start shooting. Kill her and Max.
Wishing he were awake to tell her what to do, she eased the Jeep as far over to the side of the road as possible. C’mon. C’mon. She needed a break in the trees wide enough that she could drive between. She wasn’t ready to die. She had to hide. She had to—
The truck turned away and headed north.
Emily’s breath whooshed out of her with dizzying speed. She put on the brake and lowered her head to the steering wheel. They were safe. For now.
It took her heart a long, long time to calm down. When she finally felt able to drive again, she saw that two more trucks had joined the first one. She still couldn’t see any insignia, so she didn’t know if they belonged to the government, Dietrich, or the rebels. Whoever they were, she had to get off the road in case they changed direction. Because the rain was so heavy, the ruts of her tire tracks immediately filled with water, leaving an obvious trail.