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And that’s when she spotted it. Deep into the tunnel, her escape route, what looked like half the tunnel had caved in.Blocked.
He saw it too, perhaps, because he took a breath. “Oh goody. We’re trapped together. Again.” He turned to her then, his smile gone, water dripping down his face onto his white shirt, plastered to his still-toned body. “Which means we have plenty of time for you to tell me exactly what is going on.”
* * *
Stop shaking.
Tia wasn’t sure whether she was talking to the mountain or herself as she hung on to Doyle’s shirt, curled under him, her eyes closed, listening to the screaming in her head.
Please, God,let them not be entombed in the mountain.
Her headlamp had dislodged from her head when Doyle plunked her into the metal cart, and it now lay beneath her, gouging into her hip, the glow extinguished. Maybe broken.
She didn’t know whether her eyes were open or closed, really, but they filled with gritty tears—brimming with terror, dust, even relief that she wasn’t alone.
Over her, like Captain America, Doyle still braced himself, as if fearing the alcove might collapse, and given the roar of the mountain, that was not impossible.
She shouldn’t have been so brazen when she’d told Elias she’d find the kids.
“You okay?”
Doyle’s voice rumbled into her thoughts, and even against the sound of debris pebbling into the tunnel, it stirred inside her, broke her free of her internal scream.
“Tia?”
“Yeah,” she said, her breaths quick. And she was suddenly very, very aware of the fact that she gripped his shirt with a vice hold, her forehead pressed into the well of his chest.
“I think the worst is over.” He let go of the edge of the cart, curling his arm around her back and pulling her against him. He eased back onto his knees, and she went with him, unable to let go.
He held her for a moment, his arms solid around her, said nothing, his heartbeat hammering against her ear.
So, he might be freaking out a little too.
He’d put his other arm around her to secure her, and now he loosed his hold and found her face, cupping it with his hands. His forehead touched hers, his voice soft. “You sure you’re not hurt?”
“I’m okay,” she whispered. “Thanks to you. I would have run right out into that landslide.”
She lifted her head, wishing she could see him, but the pitch darkness gave nothing away.
His breath puffed against her cheek. “It was all just... I don’t know. Instinct, maybe.” He pulled her again to himself, and she imagined him closing his beautiful eyes, possibly reliving that moment.
“Good thing you listen to your gut,” she said and sort of expected a chuckle or something.
Nothing.
And then—“Doyle, are you hurt?”
“I think I cut my leg getting into the cart, because it burns, but it’s probably not a big deal.” He pushed her away. “The bigger issue is... how are we going to get out of here?”
He pulled the backpack off and dug around, and in a moment, light flickered on. His Maglite. It illuminated the alcove, the cart, and the debris in the tunnel. It had sounded worse than it was, at least at first glance.
When he pointed the light toward where they’d come in, however, she saw the entrance filled with a cascade of rocks.
So,“Not that way,” she said.
“Right.”
“But isn’t this the cart we saw this morning, when we searched the tunnel?”