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Another inch though, and Radcliff’s laugh boomed. Then he lifted his arms to his side, windmilling as he stepped off the ridge. Derrick ran forward to grab him, but he was too late.
Radcliff plunged into the jagged rocks below.
ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-NINE
Cord stirred from unconsciousness. On some level, his body ached, yet a blinding numbness had begun to replace the pain. He’d been stabbed, he knew that.
Where was he now?
Suddenly he felt a warm weight against him and forced himself to fight through the numbness. Breathing, low and shallow, echoed through the fog in his brain. A soft hand lay against his cheek. A voice… He’d heard Ellie whispering his name.
Panic jumpstarted him back to life. Ellie… She was here with him.
Groaning, he raked his hand sideways on the floor and tried to turn over. She was curled against his back. He had to see if she was all right. Slowly, he managed to shift, but with every tiny movement, he felt more blood seeping from his stomach.
“Ellie?” he croaked. “El?”
He pressed his hand over hers and finally turned to face her. Their noses touched. Her shallow breathing bathed his face.
Dammit, he would not let her die.
“El,” he managed to groan out the word. “Wake up.”
The air felt foggy. Smelled funny. His lungs strained for air.
The truth dawned quickly. Gas… He smelled it.
Forcing low even breaths, he shook Ellie. “El, wake up, honey, we have to get out of here.”
She moaned softly, and he shook her again. “Gas is coming in. I’m going to find a way out of here.”
Finally, she roused. “Cord?”
“I’m here,” he murmured. “But we have to do something or we’re going to die. Let’s look for the door or a vent.”
She coughed, raised her head and looked around. He dragged himself across the floor to the wall and raked his hand across it.
Ellie pushed herself up, holding her left arm to her side, and he realized she was injured. His gut clenched. He couldn’t stand to see her hurt.
But now wasn’t the time for a lecture. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. Ellie had a mind of her own. It was one thing he loved about her.
The stubborn independence drove him crazy, too.
Slowly he managed to drag his body along the one side, leaving a trail of blood as he went. Ellie’s short breaths echoed through the room as she crawled.
“Cord,” she rasped. “There’s a vent over here.”
His pulse hiked and he hurled himself forward as fast as he could.
“If the gas is coming through it, maybe it’s connected to the other rooms. Bang on it and maybe someone will hear.”
“Derrick’s up there with back-up.” She began to beat at the vent crate and shout for help.
Cord coughed and clutched at his wound to stop the bleeding.
But he was weak, his own breathing turning shallow. His lungs strained for air. And he felt himself losing the battle to remain conscious.
ONE HUNDRED THIRTY
