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“Yes, yes.”
“How the fuck is she going to get air?”
“The tube.” Miller pointed.
Wraith was there in an instant. “A fucking gardenhose. You think this would give her enough air?” Wraith’s teeth bared. “Jug, the tractor.”
“Stryker, your arm won’t tolerate digging. Take this motherfucker, and if he moves an inch, take his ear.”
“You got it, Skipper.”
“It won’t start.”
“Ace, get it working,” Deacon said. “We need tools.”
“What’s going on out here?”
Ronan spun. There were about ten men from the camp. “Miller and Mathias buried Fleur alive.”
“What?” the leader of the structures team asked. “What are you talking about?”
“They’re the ones cutting the holes and sacrificing the IDPs. They informed on the convoys.” Ronan pointed at Miller.
The man looked at Miller. “Is that true?”
Stryker held the knife against the man’s ear. “Tell him.”
“Yes!” Miller squealed. “Yes!”
“We need shovels. The tractor stopped!” Deacon yelled.
“I can fix the damn thing.” The man approached. “It’s a temperamental bitch.” He elbowed Ace out ofthe way. “Here, the wire fell off again.” The man looked at Jug. “Try it again.”
Jug hit the start button, and it fired up. “We can help.” The lead whistled. “Red team. Picks and shovels, hurry, she won’t have long.”
The men ran back to the camp. “What about him?” the lead asked, pointing at Mathias.
“He’s dead,” Jug said.
“You move him. I’ll move the dirt,” the lead said, changing places with Jug.
“The hose giving her air is here.” Ronan picked up the length of hose.
“Keep an eye on it. I’ll work away from it, but if we snag it, she’s done,” the man said before powering up the tractor.
The other men arrived with shovels, and Ronan started digging out the hose, being careful not to disturb it. Before he knew it, there were more shovels than men on his team. He looked up and was amazed at what he saw. Not only was the structure’s team helping, but IDPs were using boards, plastic, and whatever they could to help dig Fleur out.
Al was beside him with a shovel. He looked at Ronan. “The ones Habib left to protect them are dead.”
Ronan continued working. “You take them out?”
“Yes. They told me they were burying her. I ran here. I pray we’re not too late.”
“We aren’t,” Ronan grunted as he shoveled like a madman. He wouldn’t believe it. He couldn’t.
Time lost meaning. Dirt was the measurement. They were in a pit five feet deep before someone yelled. Ronan glanced up and stumbled over to an area about five feet from where they were still unburying the hose.
He fell to his knees and used his shovel to scoop away the dirt on the top of a fucking wooden box. He found where the hose was shoved through a hole. The fucking thing had space between the boards.