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“Hannah.” His voice sliced through hers, cutting her off. His eyes were ice cold and furious. “I have a job to do here. There are more people involved than your boyfriend. There are procedures here, for your safety and everyone else’s. Do you understand me?”
He might as well have hit her. She stared up at him.
She remembered that photo from her dining room wall, the way she’d looked up at him in admiration.
She’d been so stupid.
Hannah turned on her heel and started walking. She waited for him to call her back, but she wasn’t five steps away when he was speaking into his radio.
And then her phone chimed.
A text from Michael.
Her heart cheered. It was almost enough to send her running into the wreckage, and procedure be damned. But no message appeared. Just a picture.
At first she didn’t understand. It was dark, and the image was gruesome. A limb—and she couldn’t even identify whether it was an upper arm or a lower leg—with a piece of rebar impaling it. Torn denim. Blood everywhere, speckled with dirt.
Then a line of text appeared.
Not me. Tell me what to do.
CHAPTER 13
When the text finally sent, Michael almost fainted from relief. He had about fifteen texts with a little red exclamation point beside them, showing that they hadn’t gone through. Calls wouldn’t connect at all, and he watched his battery percentage drop with each attempt. Water sprayed from exposed pipes overhead, creating puddles everywhere and misting his skin.
He was twenty feet below the surface, in a ravine of his own making.
Along with almost everyone else from inside the bar. Debris had fallen among them. And through them. Michael had turned on the flashlight feature of his phone and shined it around until he’d found familiar eyes staring back at him.
“Did it go through yet?” said Tyler. His voice was wispy. From what Michael could tell, they were the only two people conscious.
Michael was terrified that they were the only two people alive.
Tyler’s leg was impaled on a steel bar—which was attached to a slab of concrete.
Hannah sent back a text.
DON’T MOVE BAR. Could bleed out. Conscious?
Yes.
Keep him talking. What else you got?
“She says we have to leave it,” said Michael.
“Fuck that!” Sweat bloomed on Tyler’s forehead despite the chill in the air. “Get it out!”
“She said you could bleed to death. Your call.”
Tyler inhaled a long breath. It mixed with a sob. “Damn you, Merrick.” He coughed and cried out. His fingers dug into the dirt surrounding him. “I need a fire. Sunlight. Anything.”
“I know. I know.” Michael slid his fingers along the face of the phone.
I smell gas. Open line maybe?
They’re getting BG&E to kill the line. Anyone else hurt?
Everyone.
