Chapter 9 - SACRIFICE AND SALVATION
The timer screamed an unbroken, high-pitched alarm:
00:00:08... 00:00:07...
There was no time to unstrap the vest. The thick Kevlar harness was bolted around his ribs with locked titanium clasps designed to prevent field extraction.
"The drainage sluice!" Dante yelled, his battered hands grabbing my collar and shoving me violently toward the reinforced blast doors leading to the deep river runoff tunnel. "Down! Now!"
"No! Dante, the vest!"
"Hold on to me!"
Instead of trying to peel the harness off his own chest, Dante wrapped his powerful, bleeding arms around me, burying my face into his throat, turning his entire back toward the blast doors. With one massive kick, he hit the emergency flood gate release.
A wall of black industrial runoff water, released from the storm reservoirs, surged through the concrete sluice with the force of a tidal wave.
Timer: 00:00:01.
00:00:00.
The C-4 detonated.
The world vanished into a white-hot, deafening roar.
The concussive shockwave slammed into us like a runaway freight train. Even through the rushing water, the heat was blinding. The heavy titanium blast doors tore from their hinges, shielding us from the primary fragmentation by a fraction of an inch, but the kinetic force was staggering.
Dante took the entirety of the shockwave against his back, his body acting as an unbreakable human shield between the fireball and me. I heard his ribs crack with a sickening snap, felt the air leave his lungs in a desperate, agonized groan.
Then the floodwaters consumed us both, sweeping our tangled bodies down the subterranean tubes into the pitch-black abyss of the swollen Passaic River.
Cold. Dark. Crushing pressure.
My head broke the surface fifty yards downriver, coughing violently, vomiting river water and smoke. The rain was still beating down on the churning black current.
"Dante!" I screamed, paddling frantically against the undertow. "Dante!"
Ten yards away, a dark shape floated face down in the foam. The explosive vest had been shredded to ribbons by the blast, scorched Kevlar hanging loosely from his torn shoulders.
I lunged through the freezing current, wrapping my arm around his neck, kicking with every shred of strength remaining in my trembling legs. I dragged him toward the muddy bank, collapsing onto the slippery gravel beneath the shadow of a rusted highway bridge.
I hauled his heavy, limp body out of the water. He wasn't breathing.
"No, no, no," I gasped, falling to my knees beside him. "Don't you dare die on me now. Dante! Wake up!"
I locked my hands over the center of his chest, pumping hard, counting the beats through my tears.
One, two, three, four...
I tilted his chin, breathing air into his cold, water-filled lungs.
"Come back to us," I begged, pressing my forehead against his bloody temple, my tears mixing with the rain washing over his face. "Maya is waiting for you. I’m waiting for you. You don't get to leave us again!"
One, two, three, four...
I slammed my fist against his sternum.
A violent, ragged gasp tore from Dante’s throat. He convulsed, rolling onto his side, coughing up water and dark blood. His hands, trembling and scraped raw, clawed weakly at the wet gravel.
I fell over him, holding his shuddering shoulders, sobbing openly into the storm.
Dante’s eyes slowly fluttered open. Through the rain and darkness, those dark, twilight eyes found mine. His bruised, calloused hand lifted from the dirt, his fingers lightly brushing against my cheek, trembling with an awe that bordered on reverent madness.
"Issa..." he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roaring river. "You're... you're real."
"I'm real," I choked out, pressing his cold hand against my face. "We're both real."
May you like
"Where is she?" he rasped, fresh tears cutting through the grime on his face. "Where is our daughter?"
"She's safe," I smiled through my tears. "And she's waiting for her father."
