Chapter Thirty-Eight

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

COUNTDOWN TO ZERO HOUR 24 MINUTES

DANI WAS ALMOST out of air. Her chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself as she watched the other two divers work frantically to move a rock blocking the way in and out of the van. They pushed and pulled in unison, trying to sway the big boulder, as stars began to dance across her vision. Everything that had been dim was fading to black.

This is it, she thought as everything went dark.

This is the end.

Moments later, the water around her shifted.

Hands were on her body. Something was thrust into her mouth. That same mysterious something inside her that had tried so hard to keep Connor awake now whispered to her alone:

Exhale. Inhale. Breathe, Dani.

She did as she was told. Her eyes shot open as the oxygen hit her lungs. She grabbed the diver beside her, and he took her firmly by the arm. His message was clear.

We need to go. Now.

Together they made for the rear exit—until something pulled Dani back.

Her pant leg was caught between a rock and a seat.

It wouldn’t budge. The diver swam over and grabbed the fabric with both hands, tugging up repeatedly as hard as he could, but the thick, sturdy fabric refused to give. He swam deeper into the van, trying for a different angle—which ripped the regulator out of Dani’s mouth.

Gurgling as bubbles escaped her lips, she tried to grab the snaking length of tube now free-floating in the water, but it was just out of her reach. The diver was oblivious, focused only on the pants, but as he swam back to try a different approach, Dani was able to get her hands on the regulator.

She put it in her mouth and, breathing deeply, wondered sincerely how much more her body could take. She was so tired. Maybe she should just go get ice cream like Bri had asked her to. She turned to tell her baby girl that they would go after dinner, but Bri wasn’t there. It was the seat’s headrest her hand was resting on.

Exhale. Inhale. Just keep breathing, Dani.

The diver flipped open a survival knife he’d drawn from a leg holster, set it to the thick fabric, and started sawing vigorously back and forth.

Dani watched him work. It reminded her of Marion chopping firewood, how he’d drag a long branch over, saw it into sections, set it upright, then— thwack! —down came the ax. Dani smiled.

The fire in the fireplace was warm; this was the only aspect of work she ever brought home with her. Cozy pajamas, the smell of baking bread, Daddy watching his team playing while Bri colored. Love expressed as home. The simple life she’d wished and worked for. Dani felt the warmth. Her life, their life, was all she’d ever wanted.

The diver kept at it tirelessly, sawing back and forth, back and forth, until, with a ripping noise, the knife cut through the last of it and Dani was free. He spun, victorious, ready to signal Dani to move to the back window—and found her floating, motionless, eyes closed, the regulator dangling to the side, out of her mouth.

Levon was on the riverbank, with R.J. beside him shivering in a silver survival blanket wrapped around Frankie’s dry turnout coat. Both of them watched the water unblinkingly.

“She should be up by now!” Levon shouted. “What’s happening?”

R.J. didn’t disagree, and he didn’t know. She should have been up by now.

Up the hill, Boggs and Frankie and two of the Coastguardsmen worked on Connor, checking his vitals, getting him dry, getting him warm.

“He needs a hospital. Start the chopper,” one of them said into a shoulder-mounted radio. Moments later, the engine turned over and the propeller slowly started to spin.

Levon and R.J. both looked at it.

“No, no, no,” Levon muttered. He scrambled up the embankment and chased the team rushing Connor’s stretcher toward the helicopter. “Wait!”

“We have to move him now,” one of the Coastguardsmen said, hollering over the rotor blades. “He doesn’t have time—”

“Please! Please wait for her!”

“If we don’t go now, this kid might not make it.”

“Neither will she if you leave!”

“Hey!”

Levon spun at R.J.’s cry. Bubbles were breaking on the surface.

He ran back down, met R.J. in the water, and they splashed out, knee-deep, to the diver who was dragging Dani’s body toward the shore. They laid her on the muddy ground, and Levon checked for a pulse. When he didn’t find one, he immediately started CPR.

“I need a defibrillator!” he called out.

Up by the chopper, they were about to load Connor’s stretcher in. Boggs left the boy’s side and ran to the fire engine for the machine, which cleared the line of sight from the helicopter to the water. Connor’s eyes fluttered open. Confused, scared, in pain, he looked over to find Dani’s body stretched out on the ground looking very much like she was sleeping. He moved to sit up, to go to her, but his eyes rolled back in his head, and he was out.

“We’re losing him,” Frankie said.

“We gotta go!” a Coastguardsman working on Connor called out as they slid the stretcher into the chopper. Frankie stepped back, glancing over to see his teammates and R.J. positioning Dani on an orange rescue stretcher.

“No! We’re coming!” Levon shouted from the waterside, the desperation in his plea devastating. The chopper’s engine began to rev up.

Frankie looked from Connor down to his crew. To Dani—his coworker, his sister, his family. He spun to the helicopter, laying his hands flat on the cockpit windshield. “Please,” he begged the pilot.

The pilot glanced at his copilot, who hesitated, then gave a nod. The pilot looked back to Frankie and mouthed one word: Hurry .

Frankie scrambled down the embankment to help carry her up. They flanked her stretcher, grunting as they carried both her weight and Levon’s uphill, as Levon was now straddling her unmoving body, refusing to stop chest compressions for even a single beat. Once on flat ground, they ran the rest of the way, barely getting the stretcher into the chopper before it lifted off.

Frankie, Boggs, and R.J. all ducked as the helicopter rose high into the air, peeling off toward the hospital. They stayed there, crouched, on their knees, watching the chopper fly away, getting smaller and smaller, carrying what felt like their whole world.