Trapped (21 page)

I feel stunned as I walk numbly to Chris, the entire scene eerily focused in the absence of the shrill whir of the tunnel bore. I study the group of survivors, tears stinging my eyes as adrenaline slowly drains from my system. “How?” is all I manage.

Chris
takes a painful breath, but Mr. Rodriguez explains for him. “Chris came up to us with your sisters. He had done so much to help all of us survive this tunnel, we believed him instantly when he said there was a bomb. We got the rest of the
niños
and ran, carrying Chris most of the way.”

Chris looks like he’s going to collapse again, so Mr. Rodriguez and Kevin lower him gently to the pavement.
I kneel beside him, my fingers softly stroking his un-bruised cheek.

The fight breaks up, and medic teams
begin filtering in slowly. Police are taking statements. Volunteers are handing out waters. Paramedics are examining everyone for malnutrition. A film crew is capturing everything, a reporter speaking softly in the background.

It seems like a dream, the adrenaline rush from
my race to the detonator leaving me still and numb. I don’t move, don’t speak, as I watch Chris silently. His eyes are closed, his breathing uneven and shallow. I brush the hair carefully from his bruised and bloody face, reaching down to hold his hand in mine.

I’m pulled back to the present when someone bends down next to me, his stark white uniform looking harsh and unfamiliar here.
“What happened to your face?” the paramedic asks me, pointing a small light in my eyes. Someone else is already working on Chris, and he pulls the other man away.

“He’s in bad shape here –
we need to get a stretcher. Some fluid. We’ve got to get him to the hospital.”

People start moving quickly around us,
but I stay by Chris’s side, my hand linked tightly with his. They lift him onto a stretcher and I follow, walking with him as he fades out of consciousness. 

“Chris,” I say, my voice cracking. “Chris…”

“Emily,” he whispers, his eyes closing tiredly. “Just leave…”

“I won’t. I’m staying with you. It’s alrig
ht now, we’re going to be fine.”

“I w-want you…to leave me.”

“No…no, I can’t.”

Chris is loaded onto a
small utility car, and I jump on with the paramedics, leaving my sisters with my mom. We’re the first ones to go out, and we’re told there are FBI agents outside waiting to interview us.

“Chris,” I whisper, hardly able to focus on anything but his pale face and lifeless lips.

We travel through the new tunnel, carved out by the large bore that had finally reached us. The ground uneven, Chris seems to wince with every hard bump. The paramedics are still active as they work on him, speaking to each other in low tones.

“…
heavy blood loss from the cut in his upper right thigh.”

“Three, maybe four broken ribs. Can’t tell yet if his lungs might be damaged.”

“Something happened to his head, too. Was there a fight? The girl has bruises as well.”

Their eyes flash to me, but I barely hear them. Chris has stopped responding to me…I can only squeeze his hand gently as we ride.

When we emerge into the daylight, it’s almost too much for me. After eight straight days of constant fluorescent lighting, the bright sunlight feels hot and unnatural. I close my eyes, raising a hand to block the light from my face. But Chris doesn’t notice.

The car stops beside an ambulance. There’s a big crowd out here, filled with reporters and hopeful family members and campaign crews. I struggle to stay close to Chris. The noise
of the massive crowd seems to rouse him a little.

“Emily!” I hear my name called
, a frantic shout behind me. I ignore it, eyes focused on Chris, until a hand grabs me and turns me around.

“Emily! God,
I was so worried about you. I can’t believe you’re alive!”

It’s my father, his face red and puffy behind his
thick glasses. He sweeps me into a hug, asking questions about my mom and sisters. I answer him as best I can, struggling to get away, to get close to Chris again.

“They’re fine. They’re coming,” I say, pushing away.
“You have to let me go, I—“

“Emily, I can’t tell you how
worried I’ve been,” he says, turning me around again. “I’ve been here every day, trying to help in the rescue effort. When I heard about the cave-in, I knew in my gut that you and your sisters were in trouble. I should have been there. I should have gone to the math competition. I—“

“
Dad,” tears are streaming behind his glasses as I finally manage to break free. “Dad, I need to speak to someone.”

Turning
quickly away from him, I look wildly for Chris. They’ve loaded him into the ambulance, one of the paramedics now trying to close the door.

“Wait!” I shout, hurrying forward. Spectators
crowd around us as more of the survivors are brought out, but I push my way through them all to get to the ambulance.

“Chris!” I yell, catching the door
just before it’s closed. They’ve propped up his stretcher just a bit, and I can see his bright blue eyes as he stares at me.

“Just stay here, Champ,” he says,
his voice low.

“No, I—“

“Just stay…” his eyes close, his voice fading.

The paramedic closes the door on me,
and the ambulance pulls away almost immediately. I’m swallowed up in the crowd again, my dad, police, and reporters all closing in as the sirens blare on the ambulance. As Chris is taken away from me.

I turn dazedly to watch the rest of the survivors as they’re driven out of the tunnel. First the Rodriguez family, who
are greeted by several close relatives as they’re swept into hugs. Hannah Avery, Kevin and Jason are all in a car together, followed by one carrying the Potts family and my mom and sisters. The last car out of the tunnel unloads the Governor, and cameras flash wildly at his appearance.

At
his handcuffs.

I stand on my toes to see what’s happening. There are FBI agents, hands gripping the cuffed arms of the Governor as they usher him to the back of a police car. The plumbers are getting the same treatment, as is Bernard, I realize. But no one seems to care.

All eyes are on Governor Rosings.

“This just in.” I hear the voice of a nearby reporter, speaking rapidly into a microphone as she touches her earpiece. “
Governor Rosings, the only political candidate to survive the cave-in, has been arrested. He was found, police are reporting, with what has been claimed to be a detonator in an attempt to blow up the remaining portion of the tunnel.”

She pauses dramatically, listening to another piece of information.

“FBI agents are ushering him off to interrogation. For some reason, the Governor seems to have wanted to kill everyone else that had survived the initial landslide. Apparently he had planned to use the same explosives that had set off the initial explosion, which caused the collapse of the tunnel eight days ago.  No word yet as to what – or who – prevented him from finishing the job…”

Chapter 19 – New Beginnings

“Emily, can we plant a seed over on the other side of the yard, too?”

Wiping the dirt off my hands, I smile up at Suzanne.
While Michelle is bent down, digging out the dirt with me, Suzanne is standing a little off to the side, nervous about getting her new white ballet flats dirty.

“Sure thing,” I say, bending back to my task. I take the trowel and dig out the ground just a little more before Michelle drops in one of her apple seeds.

We’ve been out of the tunnel for more than two weeks now, and for the most part life has returned to normal. Mom is working twenty-four seven again, her brief publicity as a tunnel survivor giving her additional clients in the real estate market. The girls and I also found mini-celebrity status in school as concerned friends and teachers came to us with questions, but that has finally started to die down. Math League practices had begun again last week with profuse apologies from my teammates for having been mad at me. I had apologized to them as well, although I could barely feel more than a twinge of anxiety at how badly I’d failed them at the competition.

I’
d had much,
much
more to be anxious about in the days that had followed.

A few people had asked us about
Governor Rosings’s role in the landslide. The fallout had been tremendous, with FBI investigations and a formal indictment against the Governor, as well as arrests for Bernard and the five plumbers – I had been relieved when it came out that Chris and I had not, in fact, killed either Henry or Doug. When asked about it all, my mom and my sisters could answer truthfully that they knew nothing about what the Governor had plotted.

I
, of course, had had many more questions to answer.

The FBI had done a thorough investigation, and I had to give my side of the story several times before
we were finally permitted to come home. We were able to keep my role away from the media, which is fortunate, given the near-constant media coverage of the cave-in. The Governor’s actions were labeled as a ‘publicity stunt,’ an attempt to get media attention and public sympathy to help launch his campaign for President. It had been difficult to listen to the cave-in being labeled like that…being trapped in that tunnel, hunted down for hours by the plumbers and the Governor, getting shot at, beat up, Chris almost dying…

Well. It all feels so much more personal than a ‘publicity stunt.’

My eyes close briefly at the thought of Chris. We had been contacted by policemen from the rescue team several times, and last week the call came in that I’d been waiting for. After a blood transfusion, surgery, and a lengthy period of recovery, Chris had at last been released from the hospital with a clean bill of health. The news came on my birthday, and it was nearly the best gift I could have asked for.

The best, of course, would have been to hear from Chris himself. But he hasn’t reached out to me, either before his hospital release or since.

Instead, for my birthday my mom and dad had gone in together to split the cost of a car. A new Toyota Highlander with a steel frame and the highest safety ratings. I’d gone the next day to get my driver’s license, and I’d passed the test with ease. No tight u-turns, tunnel drag races, or slammed-on brakes were required. My dad had actually gone with me to get my license, and he’s been around a couple of times to visit with the girls and me. We’re careful not to expect too much out of him, but it’s nice to see him a little more than before. Things have certainly changed for us since the cave-in.

Gathering up my garden tools, I follow Michelle and Suzanne to another spot in the yard. I have no idea if the apple seeds they’d saved from the tunnel will actually grow, but it seems worth it to give it a shot. I kneel down in the grass, digging my trowel in the ground where the girls are pointing. It’s a beautiful day, with the bright blue sky overhead dotted with only a few clouds. The crisp mid-afternoon air makes the blue seem all the brighter, and a light breeze gently ruffles the grass under our feet. I breathe in the wind, the sun, the scent of the outdoors. The Rocky Mountains loom far off in the distance, too far to pose any threat to us now.

One thing that has definitely changed since we’ve been back is how much time we spend out of doors – the girls and I just can’t seem to get enough sunlight. We run around, take long, refreshing hikes. Play games and read books. We’ll do anything outside.

Other things have changed as well.
We keep an emergency medical kit in both cars at all times, as well as a huge box of snacks and water. We all wear watches now – even my mom. The girls have matching digital watches – Suzanne’s in purple and Michelle’s in bright green. I chose a discreet silver one, with a battery that’s guaranteed to last five years. My mom chose an outrageously expensive waterproof digital watch. She also decided to purchase a satellite phone that purportedly works anywhere, any time.

We have been eating
tons
of fruit and vegetables, and almost no snack foods. We hadn’t even come straight home after we’d finished giving our statements to the FBI. Instead we’d stopped by the grocery store, buying hundreds of dollars worth of food and a case of water each. I’d also tossed in a box of canned cokes.

The girls have changed slightly, matured a little in their daily habits. They brush their teeth
readily, get up in the mornings more easily. Michelle has even brought me the hairbrush a couple of times, asking me to comb her hair.

I’ve changed too, I know. Outdoors, I run around with the girls, leaping rocks and climbing trees with an abandon I hadn’t known before, when I was always so cautious. I speak up a little more in
class, talk a little louder in the hallways. Even in our Math League practices, I’ve noticed a difference. I’m much stronger in my opinions, much louder. Much more adventurous.

I chuckle to myself, wondering what Hannah Avery would think of that.

Digging out a little more dirt, I look up at Michelle. “Alright, last one. Drop it on in, then we can water them.”

Squatting down, Michelle places the last apple seed in the dirt,
and then we cover it, packing it in with our hands. The girls rush off to get the watering can, and I begin to pack the tools.

The sound of a
motor startles me, and I stand up slowly. It’s far too early for my mom to be home – and it’s not her car, anyway.

A
sleek-looking motorcycle rolls up the drive, stopping close to where I’m standing. I wipe my hands on my jeans, wondering what to do. I don’t know anyone who drives a motorcycle, much less anyone who would.

Unless…

I feel my chest constrict, my heart beating more rapidly. I stare in silence as he turns the engine off, as he takes off his helmet.

As Chris
shakes the hair out of his eyes to look back at me.

He
steps off the bike and takes a couple of strides forward. He seems so different. He’s wearing different clothes – a plain, long-sleeved shirt that conceals the broad muscles of his chest far better than the thin white t-shirt had. Clean, dark jeans, without the dirt and bloodstains. His hair is long and clean, and the wind ruffles the dark strands playfully. His face is smooth-shaven, his blue eyes sparkling as he walks up to me.

I reach anxiously for my hair. I wore it down today, abandoning my traditional braid with
some of my other conservative habits. It’s flowing lightly in the wind, the blond curls brushing my neck and back.

“Emily,” he sighs, his face uncharacteristically intent.

“Chris,” I say, my voice carrying over the wind. We stand awkwardly for a moment, taking each other in.

“Ho
w’s your leg?” I finally manage.

“Fine
,” he studies me. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Fine…
how’s your ribs?”

“Fine.” He steps forward. “How’s your cheek?”

“Fine.” Our smiles deepen. “How are your scrapes?”

“Too fine,” he says, stopping a few feet away. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other,” he whispers, his voice washing over me.

Stepping forward, he sweeps me into his arms, lifting me in a tight embrace as he inhales deeply. “Emily…I missed you so much.”

I pull back to look at him. “I thought…it seemed like…”

He studies my face, his blue eyes tracing my features. “Like I didn’t want you?” his voice is soft, voicing my deepest concerns. “Emily, that could never be true. In the tunnel, I was so afraid. I didn’t want to get too close, not when we didn’t know our chances. Not when I thought…when I thought things might go down the way that they did. I never truly believed we’d both make it out of there, and I couldn’t risk getting too close to you…” his voice trails off, his eyes shuttering.

“
You thought…you mean that last day, you thought that might happen? That you might have to make that kind of sacrifice?”

“I wondered, almost from the beginning. I knew that if they found out what we knew, we were dead.
That they would do anything to stop us. And that last night, when we were trapped in the ventilation system, I knew it would only be a matter of time before they did something to draw us out.”

I lean into him, hating to remember those moments of dread, that feeling of utter terror. His heart beats beneath my cheek, so warm, so alive.

“But, Emily, you have to know. From the second you caved in my car, I was lost.”

He tilts my chin up, kissing me lightly. I let out a soft sigh, and he pulls me closer, his lips pressing into mine.

We’re interrupted as the twins run up, water sloshing as they call out to Chris.

“You came!” Michelle shouts, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“We knew you would!” Suzanne says, mirroring the motion.

He bends down to give each of them a proper hug, and they smile up at him.

“Mash is always right,” Michelle says knowingly, beaming at the two of us. “He loves her.”

“We knew it,” Suzanne nods, her pigtails bobbing.

I flush, my color high as Chris looks at me. “You girls are awfully smart,” he says, smiling. “I do love her.”

Our eyes meet, and I feel my lips break out in a smile. “I love him too,” I say quietly.

“And you’ll be here a lot? To visit and stuff?” Michelle asks.

“You won’t make her mad, will you?” Suzanne chimes in.

“I certainly hope not,” Chris laughs. “I don’t want to lose her…not when I worked so hard to keep her.”

The girls smile at each other
, laughing as they pick up the rest of my garden tools for me. I can’t stop smiling at Chris, or turn away from his smile.

“Chris, will you stay for dinner?” Suzanne asks, picking up her watering can again.

He smiles at them. “Only if you promise to feed me just crackers and water.”

They laugh hysterically at that
, hurrying to water the apple seeds so we can all go inside. Once they’re done, they take off running back to the house, the empty watering can banging as they giggle. Chris and I turn to follow them much more slowly.

“Emily, I know y
our mom probably won’t approve of the motorcycle,” Chris says as we walk, “but do you think there’s any way we could convince her to let you date me? Now that you’re officially sixteen and everything.”

I laugh quietly. “You know if she sees any barbed-wire tattoos, she’ll really freak.”

“Ha, it’s just the motorcycle, Champ,” he says, slipping an arm around my shoulder. “Someone put it in my head a short time ago that that’s what I should be driving.”

“No more Chrysler Hemi?”

“She’s a thing of the past.”

“And
the motorcycle…that’s how you’ll be taking me on dates?”

He nods, squeezing me closer. “
I already have one planned, as sort of a belated birthday celebration. You may not remember, Champ, but I owe you a four course dinner.”

We take a couple of steps, and I slide my arm around him too, fitting it comfortably around his waist.
I lift my head, smiling as I think that even Hannah Avery would approve of this adventure.

“I can’t wait,
” I tell him, rising on my toes for a kiss.