Out of the Depths

CHAPTER EIGHT

“I’VE SEEN MOVIES WHERE people tied their clothes together and used them as ropes.”

She couldn’t be serious. “If I get you to take your clothes off, I’m sure as hell not gonna worry about making a rope, or even try too hard to get out of here.” Chance laughed, meaning it as a joke—sort of.

“Maybe if I stood on your shoulders…” Kyndal’s voice broke in panic.

Chance studied the distance from where he stood to the opening in the ceiling. “We still wouldn’t reach it. Besides, it’s too dangerous with that ankle of yours.”

“Did you know the cave had a section deeper underground? Have you ever explored it?”

He shook his head to both questions.

“So what do we do?” A tremor rattled her question.

“We wait. The best thing to do is stay put. Let’s hope Sheriff Blaine takes the day off, and the teenagers like to party on Sunday.”

“That could be hours from now. Late tonight.”

“People know we’re here. Jaci and Bart…and you’re dating someone, right? Surely, he’ll get worried when you don’t come home.”

“We’re not living together. And he’s working a lot of nights, so I’m not sure when he’ll call.” Kyndal took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a long moment. Even when she opened them again, an impenetrable veil behind them stayed down. A defiant tilt of her chin let him know her love life wasn’t up for discussion. “What about you? Did you tell anyone?”

Chance rubbed his hand down his face in frustration. “The office is closed until Wednesday. Mom and Dad have already left for New Orleans, and our secretary’s father is having surgery tomorrow.” Another flicker of hope came to him. “Don’t you and Jaci talk all the time?”

Kyndal’s sigh extinguished the flicker. “Usually just once a week, unless something important comes up.”

She didn’t say being with Chance Brennan wasn’t important enough, but the implication stung just the same.

“Your mom?”

She shook her head. “On one of her trips. I don’t know where she is.”

Chance well remembered Mrs. Rawlings’s unannounced little trips. Kyndal would come home to find a note, and her mom would be gone. Damn woman missed her daughter’s high school graduation—valedictory address and all. His own mom, bless her heart, took Kyn shopping and paid for her dress for their senior prom.

“So…we’re stuck. Until somebody figures out we’re missing. Or the teenagers decide to party…” Kyndal’s words trailed off to a breathless whisper.

Chance’s mind raced. Was it possible they’d actually have to stay there overnight? Or longer? Without supplies? Water. They’d need water.

He found the bottles he’d stuck in his pack. One was crushed and had lost most of its contents into the pack. He pulled it out and laid it on its side to preserve what was left. The other was still intact.

He removed the small first aid kit, replacing it with his soiled T-shirt to soak up the precious liquid. He could use that to cleanse Kyndal’s head and put some of the medicated ointment on it. The ibuprofen would ease her pain for a little while. No food, though. “Do you have anything to eat with you?” She didn’t have enough meat on her bones to last too many days without food.

“A couple of granola bars.”

“And I have a bottle of water. We won’t starve, but we’ll have to conserve.”

“You don’t really think we’ll have to stay in here that long. Do you?”

She groped for reassurance, and he wanted desperately to give her what she was looking for. His gut told him they needed to play it smart, and play it right. He forced some levity into his voice. “I think we’re gonna be fine. We just need to keep our heads. We can’t panic. I’ve read a lot about caves, so I’m not completely in the dark about this.”

Her response was a sarcastic snort.

“Okay, so I’m in the dark, but not completely.” He sat down and patted the area bedside him. The way she hobbled over and plopped down so quickly alerted him she needed medical attention. “Let me see that ankle.”

Kyndal pulled up her pants leg again, exposing an ugly purple-and-black area where an ankle should have been. He couldn’t tell where her calf ended and her ankle began. It appeared to be broken—and painful from the way she chewed her bottom lip. Although he tried to be gentle, she flinched at his touch.

The foot needed stabilizing. His first aid kit lacked any adhesive tape, and the tiny gauze bandage wouldn’t go very far. “Do you have any first aid supplies in your bag?”

She shook her head. “I’ve got some masking tape.”

“That’ll work. I can wrap the ankle. But it would be better if we had a splint of some kind.” He scanned their surroundings with the light, looking for anything useful. Just a mass of smooth limestone and dirt as far as the meager light reached.

The beam fell on Kyndal’s lamps. “How much do those lamps cost?” He flashed the light over the bent frames, evaluating their usefulness.

“A couple hundred apiece. But they’re not mine. They belong to— Chance, you can’t—”

Before she could protest again, he’d grabbed one of them and snapped off a leg.

Kyndal gasped as if she’d been slapped.

“I’ll buy a new one.” He grunted and broke off another one.

A quick shuffle through the photography paraphernalia in Kyndal’s bag produced a sizable roll of masking tape. A strategically placed rock kept the flashlight aimed at her foot as they worked, but he had to keep pumping it up.

A penknife allowed him to rip her jeans leg to the knee, then he stripped her hiking boot of its shoelace and spread the tongue area as a cradle for her foot. The padded top was a good support around her ankle. He slipped the sock over her toes and up to the arch to keep her foot warm. Following his directions, she held the two broken lamp legs on either side of her leg as he secured them with the shoelaces and rolled the tape around until he’d fashioned a makeshift splint.

“With no ice to keep it from swelling, we’ll likely have to remove the tape eventually. I don’t want to cut off the circulation.” He pumped the flashlight and spotlighted the area, eyeing their handiwork critically. It would have to do. “Does it hurt much?”

She shook her head. “Not too bad.” When the light reached her face, her eyes said she was lying.

“I’ve got ibuprofen.” He indicated the first aid kit.

“I’m okay. I’ll save that for if and when I really need it.”

“We need to keep it elevated as much as we can.” For lack of anything better, he located a boulder of manageable size and eased it under her foot. She winced and his stomach rolled. Knowing she was hurting was almost more than he could take.

“Thanks.” Her face was in shadow and he couldn’t see her expression, but her voice was soft with gratitude.

“It’s not great, but maybe it will help.” He sat down beside her and pumped the flashlight up again to its max. She shivered against him. “Are you cold?”

“A little.”

“It stays fifty-three degrees in here year-round, so we won’t freeze.” But they wouldn’t be comfortable, either. Unless he could convince her that sharing body heat in a time of crisis was necessary.

He put his arm around her and pulled her close. She didn’t protest but instead leaned into him, and he heard her quick intake of breath. “Take some of the ibuprofen, Kyn. There’s no use sitting here in pain.”

She turned her face toward him when she spoke. “I’m okay. Really.”

Her mouth was, what? Two inches from his? All he had to do was angle his head downward a little more and he would kiss her lips.

His eyes moved upward from her mouth and their gazes locked, brought together by this trauma, held by memory. He touched his forehead softly to hers. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, their noses met, and then their lips. It wasn’t a kiss of passion as much as one of compassion and support. A soft coming together, a symbol of the need for them to press through this together. Her lips trembled under his, shaking him to the core.

They sighed in unison when their mouths parted. “We’re gonna be okay,” he whispered.

She nodded, then wiped away a tear.

Damn it. Now he’d made her cry.

* * *

KYNDAL RAISED HER EYES to the hole in the roof in an attempt to stop the tears. Crying wouldn’t help this situation at all. It wouldn’t ease the searing pain in her foot or the throbbing in her head. Wouldn’t erase the bittersweetness of Chance’s lips on hers or stop her desire to press him closer.

She held the tears in check by logic and an upraised chin.

Chance stood abruptly. The sudden movement changed the mood and shocked her system back into panic mode. His attention was on the flashlight as he examined it closely. He moved something on the side and the beam held steady. “Ha! I knew there had to be a way to make the light last longer so I won’t have to pump it constantly.” His voice held a note of triumph. “Kyn, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to explore a little.”

“No! Please don’t leave.” Her breaths were coming fast, but it didn’t feel as if any air was getting into her lungs. “I—I’m scared…don’t want to—to be alone.”

Chance laid the flashlight in her lap as he knelt down and took her face in his hands. “You’ll be okay. I won’t be gone long, I promise, but I’d hate to think I sat here doing nothing when there might be a way out.”

His words—his touch—calmed her and brought her breathing to almost normal. She nodded, but fought down another surge of panic when he stood and picked up the flashlight. He would need the light, of course, and the thought of being left in the hellish darkness gave her an idea.

Her foot weighed as much as the rock it sat on, but with some effort, she raised it and pulled her backpack from the pile. “I’ll get the flash from my camera. It’s got a good battery that’ll last a long time. If I need to see, I’ll just set off a flash.”

Her fingers worked nimbly in the shadows as she disengaged the flash from the rest of the camera. The battery hummed its high-pitched frequency, and the indicator light winked at her. She held it up and let it flash, catching Chance’s face in a look that softened from surprise to admiration.

“Be back soon, I promise.”

As he moved off into the darkness, his last words echoed around her.

He will. He’ll be back soon.

She’d thought those exact words nine years ago, and they hadn’t been true then.

The pale beam of light grew smaller with the distance, and the smaller it grew, the more quickly she breathed. When he got completely out of sight, the blackness crushed in on her, leaving her gasping for air. What if something happened to him? What if a boulder fell—or what if he got lost and didn’t come back? Ever?

She opened her mouth to call to him but forced herself to take a deep breath instead. He would come back. He would come back…this time.