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Still.“They’ll be scared. Let me go.”
Pete considered him for a moment, then looked at Jake, who nodded.
“On me,” Pete said and turned down the corridor, ducking a little, then crawling as the space tightened.
Doyle followed him, his helmet scraping the top of the tunnel.
“This was probably a connecting tunnel, not mined but just a passageway. That’s why it’s so small,” Pete said. “We see these a lot in coal and silver mines.”
“You’ve done a lot of rescues in mines?”
“A few. Old mines that kids explore and get themselves lost in. A couple deep caves where people were stuck.”
“And international rescues?”
“Some. Mostly training exercises. But I know Ham, and he knows Declan, and we’re glad to help. I see the blockage.”
Doyle looked past him to an opening blocked by a tumble of rocks. It hadn’t completely closed, however, and a dark face, grimy with dirt, peered at them through the tunnel. A kid. Doyle couldn’t make out whether it was Jaden or Rohan.
“You guys okay?”
“Yeah,” the boy said, and the voice nudged deep inside him. “But I’m stuck.”
“We’ll get you out. Hang tight.” Pete pulled a pry bar off his pack. Worked it between the rocks. “Doyle, give me a hand.”
Doyle gripped the bar alongside Pete, and they dislodged one boulder, then another. The rocks spilled down, and Doyle pushed them out of the way.
The opening was now big enough to pull a body through. Pete pushed his arm into it. “Can you move?”
“Yeah,” said the boy, and again, the voice?—
Oh. Wait?—
“Me first,” said another voice, also male.
No.Doyle knew that voice, that accent, that tone?—
“Pete—”
But Pete had already grabbed the man’s hand, and the pebbles broke free as the man scrabbled into the opening, wrestling himself out of the hole.
Doyle leaned away, his chest tight as realization slid over him, took his breath.
Sebold fell onto the tunnel floor covered in red dust, coughed, and then coughed out blood-red spittle.
What—?
“Head up the tunnel toward the next opening,” said Pete to the man. “There’s an SAR tech there with a mask.”
Sebold pushed to his hands and knees, heading toward Jake, and Doylesimply. couldn’t. move.
Pete reached for the next person, another man, this one covered in dried blood, a wound on his scalp. Doyle helped him climb free and caught his breath.
“Keon?”
The man looked up at Doyle, frowned. Maybe the former security guard didn’t recognize Doyle under his helmet and ventilator mask,
“Get out,” Doyle said and watched him crawl away, the truth pitching his gut.