“I’ve got you. Hang on. I’ve got you.” Malin’s voice. He was hoarse, gasping for breath as he spoke.
Finally, she slid out of dirt, felt it drop away and Malin pulling her upright. It was still utterly dark, but his arms wrapped around her and drew her in close as she breathed deeply. Elna felt dirt in between her teeth, on her tongue, in her nostrils. It dribbled from her lips like mud.
“I’m sorry,” Malin said in her ear. “Part of the ceiling came down right on top of us. You were farther in, and I had to dig around to get you free. All I had was my bare hands.”
“It’s okay,” she said, clutching at his back. “Thank you. I couldn’t move, Malin. It was the worst feeling.”
“We made it,” he replied. “That was way too close, but we made it. Let’s try to get back into the bunker. Come on.”
He turned her toward what she assumed was the end of the hall, and she began creeping forward on her hands and knees. A smell lingered in the air. It was like gunpowder, dirt, and old metal—so strong it made her sick. As she crawled, she felt sharp pain in her lower back, a slightly less severe pain in her shoulders and neck.
I guess that’s what happens when an island falls on top of you, she thought. If not for the pain, she might have laughed at the thought, but she was too uncomfortable to find anything amusing at the moment.
“Did we get them?” she asked. “The mercs, did we get them?”
“If bringing the hallway down on top of them isn’t enough,” Malin replied, “I don’t know what to do. I didn’t hear a peep from them once everything settled. They must be buried in there deep. If so, that means four of them are down.”
“Which leaves eight in the guesthouse,” she said, spitting out a big glob of mud. “Including their commander.”
As she crept forward, she felt on the ground in front of her, her fingers brushing strange debris in the utter dark. She thought of Pop and Selene. How much farther down the hall had they been? Had they made it into the bunker before the explosion? She tried to call out to them, but her dry throat hitched. She coughed, spat up more mud, and tried again.
“Pop, are you there somewhere?” she called. “Selene? Where are you guys?”
A few seconds of silence followed. Elna heard only Malin’s coarse breathing beside her. Then someone cleared his throat from the darkness in front of her.
“We’re okay.” Pop, but he sounded so frail. “I think we’re okay. Almost made it to the door and then got the whole world yanked right out from under my feet.”
“He landed on top of me,” Selene said, in a pained voice. “At least I cushioned his fall.”
“Are you injured?” Malin asked.
“Definitely bruised,” Selene replied. “Doesn’t feel like any bones are broken, and I don’t feel any blood.”
Elna had gone a few yards—possibly more; she couldn’t tell—when her right hand brushed someone’s back. She felt the scratchy wool of her dad’s vest. She put an arm around him, but he grunted in discomfort.
“The door is here,” he said. “Reach past me. You’ll see. Can’t get it open.”
She reached past her father and felt the smooth metal of the door that led into the game room. She slid her hands along the door, looking for damage but didn’t feel any. Then she grabbed the big, sturdy door handle, and it seemed to turn just fine. However, when she pulled on the door, it wouldn’t budge. She leaned back, putting her weight into it, but her shoulders and back screamed in pain. Losing her grip, she fell back on her rump.
“Can’t do it,” she said, massaging her right shoulder. “It doesn’t feel damaged, but it doesn’t want to open. When the middle part of the ceiling came down, it might have pushed the doorframe just a little out of square.”
“Let me try,” Malin said. “You were just buried alive. You’re probably not at peak strength.”
“Buried alive,” Selene said with a gasp.
“Principessa, did you get hurt?” Pop said.
“Don’t worry about me, Dad,” she replied.
She felt Malin brush past her and heard the sound of the door handle. Malin grunted, then cursed under his breath. There was a loud scraping sound, metal against metal, and the door hinges shrieked. Then Malin suddenly fell backward and landed in her lap. As he did, a whoosh of cool air swept into the hallway.
“That got it,” Malin said.
A flickering orange light came through the door, but Elna realized now just how dust-choked the air was. It was like a thick, brown fog. She tried to swipe it out of her face, but there was just so much of it. Consequently, she couldn’t see the source of the flickering light. It reminded her of the warm orange glow of the fireplace in the guesthouse lobby.
I miss those quiet evenings in the lobby, she thought. I would give anything to be back there.
Malin stood from her lap and pulled himself through the open door, coughing as he went. Elna could see Selene and Pop now. They were sitting side by side against the wall on her right side, Selene nursing her right arm in the crook of her left. Pop was covered in dirt, but he appeared otherwise unharmed. When Elna looked behind herself, she saw the corridor running about ten yards behind her before the roof was folded down, and the passage was sealed by dirt. The rest of the corridor seemed to be gone, swallowed by the earth.
Elna picked herself up, wincing at the pain that simple act produced, and stepped through the open door. When she did, she realized that
