The Edge of Obsession (Black Ops Confidential 2.5)

Chapter 14

Sweat and salt drenched Sion’s brow. Hard to remember ever feeling this beat down.

Thirty-one women. No Sophia or Rosa. Some bodies were simply too decayed to be them. The women who were here had been shot, tortured, brutalized. The signs were obvious even to someone like him, who’d never seen the like.

He dropped his light from the face of another woman who’d never had a chance. “We’re going to need to alert the police.”

Dee rolled her neck and stood from where she’d been squatting. “Agreed.”

A noise like thunder erupted. Dee spun, moved like fire, sprinting at him. “Down!”

A spasm of heat and pressure, dirt and grit slammed down the tunnel and lifted Dee. A millisecond later it hit Sion, tossing him to the ground. Something dropped across his back, knocking the air from his lungs. Face pressed into dirt, fighting for air, he shifted as creaks and groans settled around him.

Ears ringing, crap leg barking pain, he rolled dirt and debris from his back as he sat up. Air coated with dust rushed into his lungs. Fuck, lost his mask. He bent forward, gagged into his fist. Spit repeatedly.

With a tug of his shirt over his nose and mouth, he breathed again, trying to make out something—anything—in the dark. Couldn’t see. He’d lost his headlamp. “Dee? Dee, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” came the reply amid a series of hacking coughs. A light flicked to his left. “You?”

What good would it do to tell her his leg felt like someone had taken a hatchet to it? None. “Aye. What happened?”

“An explosive booby trap.” She sounded groggy. “Not sure how I missed it or why it took so long to go off, but it did.”

Her light dropped from him and flashed down the tunnel, sparkling off floating particles of dust. “Let’s get out of here.”

Rolling to a crouch, he inched his way forward. Dee helped, shining her light across the area that separated them. The sight was more gruesome than ever, with sightless eyes and broken limbs.

“The dirt covering them should help with the escaping toxins,” she said, almost to herself, but he’d noticed she, too, no longer had her mask.

“Hold your light there,” he said, spotting his headlamp. He picked it up, cuffed off the dirt, tested it. Still worked. “I’ve got it.”

She lowered the light from him and flashed it down the tunnel. When he was next to her, she pointed the light back down at his leg. “You’re hurt.”

“One to talk,” he said. “Your forehead is bleeding.”

She put a hand up to her bleeding head. “And my backpack is buried, along with our water, and other supplies. I’m usually much luckier than this.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you’re the luckiest woman down here.”

She snorted. Without another word they moved down the tunnel.

Sion was already bent double when the roof and sides forced him to get to his knees and crawl. Despite nerve-rattling shifts, pops, and squeals, along with their coughing and gagging, the area had a muffled quality.

“Good thing we weren’t in the front chamber,” he said as he was forced to worm-crawl. The beams in the back had held, saving them. His hands bit into stones and bones. He put it from his head as he followed her through a narrowing passageway. Eventually, and much to his surprise, the passage widened a bit—enough that he could crawl up beside her and stare at the sloped wall of dirt that blocked the exit.

He flashed his light along it. Debris. Jars. Glass. Beams.

“Look here,” Dee said, directing her light into the slope of dirt.

He looked. There was a hole the size of toddler’s head.

“Can you move over a touch, so I can get closer?”

She squeezed to her side, allowing him to shimmy closer and examine it. It was a hole. Went deep, too. The explosion had collapsed the tunnel, but beams had fallen in a way that left a small opening. He looked at her. “You are lucky.”

“The luckiest woman down here.”

He grunted, then stuck his hand in the hole. Unbelievable. He could put his whole arm up and not reach the end of it. Thought he could feel air. Not possible. Still… “I can dig us out of here, but it might take a while.”

“We have until the chemicals from the decaying bodies kill us or we run out of air. Perhaps three hours.”

No pressure. “Right, then. Let’s find a shovel, so I can get started.”

“We need a buttress,” she said. “Digging out could cause a collapse.”

“Not today. In this, too, you’re lucky.”

“Why is that?”

“When I was a child, my da, disreputable banker that he was, had me dig hidey-holes each time we moved.”

“I take it you moved a lot.”

“Let’s just say, if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s dig a hole.”

Chapter 15

Dada did not give up easily. She also did not ignore reality. They were running out of air. Sickness and exhaustion had set in. Of course, her luck would win out. It always did, right?

Face covered in sweat, nausea rocking her stomach, her neck ached and her hot breath soaked the dirt in the tightly packed area they’d dug out—about the width and length of a coffin. She scratched again at the material above her. Steel. A portion of the door to the upper chamber.

She tried to press on it, lift it, but it wouldn’t budge. No telling how much dirt lay beyond it, so they needed to find a way around this metal blockade.

Whichever direction they chose to dig could be the most important decision of their lives, because if they choose wrong… if that choice led them to more doors, more debris, and not to a place that could be easily dug around, they were dead.

Panting, sliding the shovel down as she shimmied backward, she exited into the wider chamber beside Sion.

They’d decided one person should dig while the other stayed still, using less air. She handed him the headlamp.

He took it. “My turn?”

She nodded, dizzy. The air was thick, their breathing heavy, which poisoned the air every time they exhaled.

She pulled the flashlight from her pocket and pointed it through the area they’d dug out. They might die down here. Oh, she was usually better at holding back tears. “But my luck never… fails. Never.”

Sion grabbed her arm. “Luv, don’t cry.”

She covered her face with her hands, trying to hide her desperate tears. “So tired. Can’t. Catch. My breath.”

“Luv.” He pulled her hand away, kissed her cheek and the tears that trailed down her face. She welcomed the warmth of his touch. It might be the last and only comfort they had to give each other.

Sion moved his mouth to her ear. “Would’ve liked a lifetime to get… to know… you.”

Gooseflesh tingled and cascaded down her body. There was nothing left but that immediate truth between them. The reality of this situation required honesty. Escape was near impossible. There was too much debris and chances were slim they’d find a way past that door.

She kissed his sweat-and-dirt-stained lips. “I’m not a nun.”

He laughed, gently against her lips. “No shit.”

Their lips collided and greedily used up oxygen. Heart aching in her chest, she contented herself with this, as all the passion of a not-likely lifetime broke free from where it lay hidden. So short of breath, darkness tinged her consciousness, but she still didn’t break the kiss.

He, however, did.

He gripped her face in his hands and wiped her tears with his thumbs. “My turn.”

His hope touched her. Rallied her. “Yes. A. Lifetime. Awaits.”

Sion shimmied back into the dug-out area. She slid the shovel to him.

The sound of his digging quickly followed. She reached for her leather bracelet, thought of her son, closed her eyes and drifted off…

She jostled awake as he slid back into their shared grave. He gripped her arm, brought his forehead to hers. “Broke through.”

He held out the headlamp. She reached and missed, then concentrated on the light, reaching again with arms that felt encased in three winter jackets, and grabbed it. “Yes!”

He grunted, closed his eyes.

Unable to even wipe the sweat from her eyes or put the headlamp on, she willed all her energy into going back into that stifling tube of dirt. So tired. She wiggled upward, shoulders and elbows, rocking forward.

Panting, she reached the end. Ah, Sion had chosen to dig above the door. Good choice. Or so it had turned out. The area he’d dug was wide enough for her head. And there was air.

She breathed it in. Weeping, she reached through the hole and her hand slapped against a metal bar. It halved the opening. Oh no.

They had minutes of air left below. Only one person could be in this space breathing freely.

Sobs. She couldn’t stop the sobs. He would not survive down there. And he expected her to take advantage of the work he’d done, breathe this air, free herself.

No.

Squeezed into the tight opening, she used numb fingers to feel the beam and the area Sion had started to dig around. Sion passed her the shovel, sliding it by her thigh.

She grasped it. Fuck this. Let the whole thing crash down, crush her. Or let this damn bar break and give them both freedom.

Using the tip and giving a big what-do-I-have-to-lose, she slammed the shovel into the metal. One. Two times.