Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
He barely moved.
The guy was solid muscle at well over six feet tall. I grunted and managed to pull him a couple of inches, even with the rock on his leg, before my arms gave out.
I had to get him out of there.
Sounds came from the tunnel I’d just left, then running footsteps, then Deputy McCracken bustled into the alcove, dirt on his face, his body hunched over.
“Help me,” I whispered.
He instantly moved as another deputy came up behind him. Grunting, they lifted the rock off Aiden’s legs, shoving it to the side. One deputy grabbed Aiden’s arms, the other his legs, and they hefted him up, both groaning with the effort. Rocks continued to rain down on us, and I yelped.
“Go,” McCracken ordered, the cords in his neck straining.
I ran ahead, paused, and opened the bag near the bottom. Holy crap. It was the silver boxes. I hefted it over my shoulder and climbed the ladder, reaching for my dad to pull me all the way out. Sheriff Franco leaned against the counter, his face gray, one hand on his cane.
The world hitched again. I sucked in air, whirling toward the opening.
It took what felt like forever, but finally, McCracken pushed Aiden’s head out first. My dad rushed forward with several other people and they hauled him out and placed him on a waiting stretcher. The deputies followed, shutting the trap door.
“Everybody out,” the sheriff yelled.
We all hurried outside into the rain with four men carrying Aiden on the stretcher, right into an ambulance.
“We’ll try to life-flight him to Spokane, but if the weather gets worse, they’ll have to land in Timber City,” the sheriff said grimly.
The doors shut, and the ambulance zipped off, headed toward the small airport on the outside of town.
I sagged against my dad.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll drive.”
Chapter 25
The spring storm increased in force, angrily throwing pinecones and broken branches across I-90, as the sun lost any fight to show through the clouds. The windshield wipers fought to keep up, slapping back and forth in a losing battle against the sheets of rain.
My dad drove with one hand steady on the wheel, his other resting near the gearshift. His focus never wavered. I looked at him, unable to breathe. Aiden hadn’t moved. Not once.
“It’ll be okay,” my dad said, his gaze fixed on the rain-slicked asphalt stretching ahead of us.
I swallowed hard. My dad was always calm in a storm. He was a big man, a miner, with the faintest hint of an Italian accent that lingered from my grandparents. His hair was jet black streaked with gray, and he had the shoulders of a linebacker, even in his late fifties. He was solid, steady—the strongest person I knew besides Aiden.
“Now, what happened?” my dad asked quietly.
I told him everything. The tunnel, the explosion, the collapse. He didn’t interrupt and only nodded when I finished. “Did you see any wounds to his head?”
“I didn’t.” My voice broke.
My phone buzzed with a text from Sheriff Franco. The helicopter had to put down in Timber City. Doctors would evaluate Aiden there and decide whether to drive him to Spokane. I typed back, asking if Aiden had regained consciousness. The sheriff replied that he hadn’t heard, but he was still on the road, probably only a few miles ahead of us.
We reached the hospital in Timber City just as another crack of thunder rolled through the sky. The parking lot glistened under the floodlights, water swirling around the drains. I ran inside beside my dad, the smell of antiseptic and wet pine greeting us in the sterile air.
I wasn’t surprised to see Aiden’s team already in the waiting room.
“Saber,” I called, spotting him first. Rain dotted his dark hair. “How is he?” I asked, breathless.
Saber shook his head. “We don’t have any word yet. No news.” His faint Spanish accent thickened more than usual.
A few of his team members sat clustered in the corner. Chelli, the lone woman, gave me a tight nod. She was small and blonde, compact muscle in motion. I’d once seen her dive through a window and come up rolling, ready to fight. Her expression now was pure concern.
My dad’s hand landed gently on my shoulder. “Come sit down.”
I followed him to a row of plastic chairs that creaked under our weight. More people began filing in—my family, some of Aiden’s friends, even townsfolk from Silverville. Everybody liked Aiden, even though he’d been quite the rebel when he was younger. The Silverville deputies leaned near Sheriff Franco against the walls, silent and watchful.
Deputy McCracken approached, dirt still on his boots, his hair plastered from the rain. “Heard anything?”
“No,” I said, looking around. “Will you please make the sheriff sit down before he gives himself a heart attack?”
McCracken shook his head, eyes wide. “I’ve tried. The guy won’t listen.”