For now, he had to find Hugh. He steadied his voice and tried again. “Franco, check in.”
“Roger… here…” the familiar voice cut through the chatter, sporadic, but alive.
Thank God.
“Am okay…” Franco continued, the connection crummy with broken interference. “We’re shaken… No exit. Would appreciate… dig us… soon.”
“We’re on it. Not leaving until you’re clear,” Liam promised without hesitation.
Franco was alive, and if anybody could scrap his way through, he could. The guy was the most fearless, the most tenacious on the team.
All the same, Liam intended to bring as much help to the table as he could wrangle out of the already-overtasked people scurrying around the buckled piles of concrete and rebar. He scanned the construction crews—a mix from around the world—for a spare soul to help out.
And came up empty.
He scrubbed a gloved hand over his face. God, his people were maxed already, working alongside a rescue task force from Virginia for the past eighteen hours without sleep. He was running on the fumes left over from his catnap during the cargo plane ride over.
More C-17s dotted the sky, a trio landing one after the other in the distance with more supplies and personnel. Much-needed help. Except it would be hours before they were in place here.
But the helicopter hovering closer? The supplies and personnel that chopper contained would be available in minutes. His headset buzzed with news of a relief dog handler being sent from the Virginia USAR—Urban Search and Rescue—team.
He zeroed in on the cable lowering from the craft. A wiry figure dangled from the end—appeared to be a female in rescue gear with a dog strapped to her chest.
The helicopter was sending in a fresh search pair. A gold mine for a depleted team stretched to the max after over eighteen hours without sleep. These two were also closer than whatever troops or supplies might be loaded in the C-17 still circling in the sky.
He clapped Rocha on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back. Keep talking to Franco.”
Sure-footed, he jogged across the jagged debris toward the chopper, eyes homed in on the duo spinning on the end of the descending cable.
He was a scavenger from way back, and intended to be first in line to claim her.
***
Holding her breath, Amelia squeezed her eyes closed and lips shut tight as the dust settled from the aftershock. Dots sparked on the back of her eyelids. She grew light-headed from lack of oxygen. But if she gasped too soon, she would choke on pure grit.
She cupped the back of Joshua’s head for protection. Precious little to offer, but the best she could offer. The top of her hand stung from something. Better her hand than his vulnerable skull. She was certain she felt him move, heard his tiny whimpers. Helplessness threatened to overwhelm her. How much more of this could she bear?
Consciousness faded. Her lungs screamed for air. Peeking carefully, she exhaled hard. Dust puffed ahead of her.
The thin light lancing through the dark reminded her she didn’t have to endure this alone. She had help.
Or did she?
Panic pierced her. “Are you here? Are you okay?” God, she didn’t even know his name. “Answer me, please. Let me know you’re alive.”
The slim glow didn’t move. Her savior stared back at her with piercing green intensity. A death stare? She stifled a scream.
He blinked.
She whimpered with relief.
“Hang tough,” he said slowly, shifting to pull a rock from under his side. “The worst is past. You okay?”
He was alive. They were all still alive. But for how long? She’d assumed because help had made it through, rescue had arrived. She hadn’t prepared herself for another earthquake. Hours of more waiting. The possibility they wouldn’t get out at all.
Concentrating on the positive seemed tougher and tougher. Hysteria frothed inside her all over again. She fought the urge to laugh like a lunatic. To sing a flipping chorus of “Tomorrow,” like Little Orphan Annie.
She gritted her teeth. Do not freak out. She wasn’t alone. The people above knew she was here alive.