Charlie figured that so long as no one opened that door in the next three minutes, it meant Stephen had taken his advice. And if someone did open that door, Charlie would die in this room and be left in an unmarked grave.

  18

  Shelly received more than a few eyebrows when she returned to the island with the dog and two children. Thankfully, Kayla didn’t give her too much grief.

  “You remember when I tried bringing home a stray cat in the third grade?” Kayla asked, making sure the children couldn’t hear her. “I remember you telling me we couldn’t take care of it. Mind telling me why you think we can take care of these guys?”

  “Their parents were killed,” Shelly said. “I couldn’t leave them.”

  Kayla nodded. “I assume I’ll be watching them?”

  “Please and thank you,” Shelly said.

  Shelly was more than a little worried about Kayla watching the children. She knew her daughter was still processing what had happened the day of the EMP. Kayla had killed a woman and would eventually need to grieve over what she had done.

  Because the woman she killed was vile and evil, and even though Kayla had been justified in her actions to save her younger brother, the trauma of the event was still present.

  Shelly had never killed anyone on the job as a detective. She didn’t know what it was like. But she had known officers and detectives who had experienced it and saw firsthand the weight they carried after it was done. She didn’t want that kind of future for her daughter.

  But right now, with all of the eyes on her to help fix the water situation, Shelly had to shift her priorities. Kayla was strong, Shelly had no doubts about that, and she would be fine now. This was only temporary.

  With Kayla and Benji taking the other children and the new dog back to the cabin, Shelly found the maritime welder who’d be diving with her. Patrick Haus was a young man with a shrew-looking face and a wiry build. He had a mop of brown curls on his head, and when he looked at Shelly, she couldn’t be sure the man was listening. Patrick had a perpetual lazy face, and it wasn’t until he spoke and answered her that she was sure he’d been listening.

  “What happens if I need more air before the job is done?” Patrick asked.

  “We have enough tanks to spend twenty hours underwater,” Shelly answered. “Is that going to be enough?”

  “It depends on how big the patch is,” Patrick said. “I won’t know until I’m down there.”

  Shelly had grabbed all of the tanks available. She knew it might take some time to find the leak, but she hadn’t anticipated not having enough air to do the job. She wasn’t sure how many more shops were close enough to raid, but she was getting ahead.

  Because it was winter, the pair donned their wetsuits before entering the water. Without them, they’d catch hypothermia within minutes.

  Once Shelly gave a rundown of the equipment and gauges, she allowed Patrick to swim around in the water to get a better feel for what it was like with a tank and flippers. When he surfaced, he removed the regulator from his mouth, panting.

  “It’s harder than it looks,” Patrick said. “And my ears are killing me.”

  “Try swallowing when it feels like the pressure is building in your head,” Shelly said.

  It never ceased to amaze Shelly how much pressure a person can experience during a dive. Water was unyielding, unstoppable, and the most potent force on the planet.

  “Whatever happens, don’t panic,” Shelly said. “Work through your hand signals, and I will help you out of the situation. The bay is fairly shallow, so we shouldn’t have to go deeper than twenty feet to find the leak.”

  “Jesus, twenty?” Patrick asked. “My head’s going to explode.”

  Shelly glanced behind her where Sheriff Thompson and the others were waiting idly for them to begin repairs. The wait for the island’s survival was upon them, and showing any sign that the plan could fail would sow discord into an already fragile alliance.

  “Hey, listen to me,” Shelly said, wading closer to Patrick until he could hear her through only whispers. “If we can’t get this done, then we don’t get fresh water on the island. People can’t survive more than three days without any water. Three days. But it’s not even going to take that long because the civility on that island will disappear. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  Patrick nodded. “Yeah. I get it.” He took a deep breath. “Let me go down a few more times, and then we’ll head out. I have to ensure I can go deep and still function with my equipment.”

  “Good,” Shelly said.

  While Patrick continued to practice, Shelly felt the laser-like focus of everyone staring into the back of her head. She knew Sheriff Thompson was watching, she knew the town was watching, and she had no delusions of what would happen if she failed.

  Once Patrick gave Shelly the thumbs up, the pair loaded the gear onto the sheriff’s boat and waded out into the bay.

  A crowd had gathered along the shoreline. Shelly imagined that until this problem was fixed it. It was going to be the main focus for everyone on the island. People were nervous. So was she.

  “The water main runs from the utility connection there,” Thompson said, pointing to a fenced-in area, “to the shoreline between those two trees.”

  Shelly and Patrick followed the sheriff’s finger.

  “It’s a distance of two hundred yards,” Thompson said.

  “Jesus,” Patrick said.

  “The good news is that we’ve confirmed the leak isn’t anywhere on the island or the supporting machinery,” Thompson said. “The bad news is that it’s twenty feet below us somewhere on that line.”

  Patrick turned to Shelly. “It will take us a few hours to find the leak, maybe half the day if visibility is poor.”

  Shelly clapped Patrick on the shoulder. “We’ll be fine. I’ll be your extra pair of eyeballs down below. The first part of this mission is to find the leak. Once we find it, we’ll mark it and then bring the tools below for you to fix it. I’ll help keep an eye on your oxygen while you’re working. Even though it feels deep, we won’t have to worry about pressurization issues returning to the surface. It’ll take less than two minutes to surface.”

  “I can hold my breath for that long,” Patrick said.

  “Then we shouldn’t have a problem,” Shelly said.

  Shelly made sure Patrick’s gear was on correctly and working. They tested the airflow once, and once she had a thumbs up, they dunked themselves over the side.

  It had been a few years since Shelly had been on a dive, but when she was under the surface, she remembered how freeing it was to be in the water. The weightlessness, gliding, it was as close to flying as Shelly had ever experienced. But it didn’t take long for reality to find its way back into the fold as she saw Patrick nearing the bottom of the water. The visibility was poor, which would make it difficult to find the leak, and considering neither of them had done something like this underwater, Shelly knew time was against them.

  The pair worked slowly, moving along the water main. Kira was thankful the pipe wasn’t buried, which would have made their work even more difficult. Shelly kept an eye on Patrick, checking in with him every ten minutes, ensuring he still gave a thumbs up. She also watched their air supply, knowing it wasn’t Patrick’s primary focus.

  Shelly remembered what it was like during her first dive and how her attention was pulled in every direction. But that was why she was here, to act as a backup and make sure neither of them got into trouble.

  After two hours in the water and only halfway down the line, the pair had already exchanged two tanks. But halfway through their third tank, Patrick spotted a geyser from the pipe. They’d found the leak.

  Both Shelly and Patrick were all smiles when they surfaced, but Shelly knew they weren’t out of the woods yet.

  “How bad is it?” Thompson asked.

  Patrick gathered his gear, dripping ice-cold water over the boat's deck. “It’s not a full tear, so that’s good. Maybe like seven inches, and it’s a clean line, making it easier.”

  “How long will it take you?” Shelly asked.

  Patrick shrugged. “An hour and a half, maybe two depending on how bad the conditions stay at the bottom.”

  The pressure from the water had imprinted the edges of the mask around both Patrick and Shelly’s faces. She could tell he was tired. Hell, she was tired, too.

  “If you need a break, we can take it,” Shelly said.

  “No, I’m good,” Patrick said. “Honestly, we have momentum now, and I don’t want to lose it. I might be too tired if we slow down.”

  “All right then,” Thompson said. “Let’s get this done.”

  Again, Shelly performed the safety check on their dive gear before dumping it over the side, and once they were clear, they traveled back down to the sight of the tear. It took a few minutes to find it again, but Shelly stood by and allowed Patrick to work once they did.

  Patrick had given Shelly the same welding goggles he used so that the torch flame wouldn’t ruin her eyes. It was strange seeing the glow under the water. It was like she was witnessing magic.

  Patrick worked steadily and quickly, and it didn’t take long for Shelly to see how skilled the boy was at his job. He’d undersold himself at the town meeting earlier today.

  Nearly finished, Shelly saw their air was running low. Rather than risk it, Shelly signaled Patrick and motioned them to head up. But instead of flashing a thumbs up to confirm, Patrick gave her the thumbs down.

  Shelly gestured to the gauge, and then Patrick gestured to the pipe. It was clear he was nearly done, but she knew it was an unnecessary risk with their oxygen gauges in the red. But even with the warnings, Shelly couldn’t convince him, and Patrick returned to his work.

  Shelly glanced at her gauge, which was also in the red. She was conflicted about leaving but unsure if she should stay. She knew what would happen if they both ran out of air. But leaving him down here by himself was also dangerous. He wasn’t a diver, and he was low on oxygen.

  Caught between a rock and a hard place, Shelly listened to her gut, and her heart was telling her to go up and get a new tank. If she were quick about it, she’d be back down before he was finished and before he ran out of air. At the very least, she’d be able to share her tank with him on the way up.

  Shelly pushed off the ocean floor and swam quickly toward the surface. Bubbles trailed her on the way up, and when she broke the surface, she immediately swam to the boat. Her quick start into the vessel caused Sheriff Thompson to worry.

  “What’s wrong?” Thompson asked.

  Shelly removed her tank and grabbed a fresh one, spitting the regulator out of her mouth. “He’s almost out of the air down there.”

  “Then why the hell didn’t he come back up?” Thompson asked.

  “Because he’s being stubborn,” Shelly answered. “I need to get back down there, and—”

  The bright flash beneath the surface caught both of their attention, and so did the rush of bubbles that followed.

  “Jesus, what was that?” Thompson said.

  “I don’t know,” Shelly answered, quickly preparing her new tank. “Get the first aid kit ready.” She was over the side before Thompson answered, and the moment she splashed into the water, she swam toward the bottom.

  On the quick descent, the pressure mounted in her head, and the dark, murky waters made it impossible to see the bottom until she was less than a foot away. She found the pipe and then used the line to follow it to the tear.

  Patrick lay slumped over the water main, lifeless, his oxygen tank weighing him down. Shelly didn’t know what had happened, but she needed to get him to the surface as quickly as possible. She scooped him up and rushed to the topside. She had no idea if he was still alive or wounded, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to help him from down here.

  When Shelly breached the surface, she caught Thompson’s attention. “Get him up into the boat!”

  “What happened?” Thompson asked, pulling Patrick into the vessel.

  “I don’t know,” Shelly said. “Check to see if he’s hurt.”

  Shelly climbed into the boat while Thompson looked the boy over.

  He shook his head. “I don’t see any wounds, but he’s not breathing.”

  Shelly dropped her gear and quickly performed CPR on Patrick. “C’mon, kid.” She positioned Patrick’s head back and blew into his mouth, filling his air with lungs. She repeated the process for ten seconds until finally Patrick’s gurgled up saltwater and threw up all over himself.

  “Get him on his side,” Shelly said, pushing Patrick so he could get the water out of his system. “That’s it; you’re all right.”

  Patrick gasped for breath, gagging and coughing between breaths. He blinked, dazed and confused. “What happened?”

  “Tank exploded,” Shelly answered.

  “Shit,” Patrick said and collapsed onto his back, exhausted.

  Shelly smacked his arm. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I thought I wanted to get it done,” Patrick answered.

  “And did you?” Thompson asked.

  Patrick nodded. “It’s finished. Good thing, too, because the valve on my torch finally busted.”

  “That was the explosion?” Shelly asked.

  “Yeah,” Patrick answered. “I got lucky with it only knocking me out.” He checked himself. “It could have burned me pretty good.”

  “You’re sure the pipe is fixed?” Thompson asked.

  “Just give him a minute, Sheriff,” Shelly answered.

  “I’m sure,” Patrick said. “I need to get the rest of my gear, though.”

  “You stay; I’ll get it,” Shelly said.

  It didn’t take long to collect the rest of the gear, and she confirmed the water main was sealed entirely.

  When they returned to the docks, they were greeted with cheers of victory as the water had been restored. Shelly was glad everything had turned out all right, but she couldn’t help but feel something happening on the island beneath the surface.

  Patrick should have listened to her about coming back up, but he didn’t. And while Shelly didn’t believe he ignored her because he thought himself superior, he did it because he felt he was right.

  And in Shelly’s experience, the people who believed they were right were only emboldened when they escaped unscathed. Patrick wouldn’t be the last to test the limits of authority and reason, and Shelly feared the next time someone tried to go rogue, it wouldn’t end as pleasantly as this encounter.

  19

  The restraints around Charlie’s wrists were tight. He was sure they would leave bruises, but he didn’t understand why he wasn’t released by now. It had to have been at least thirty minutes, and with that much time passed, the Chinese forces would be arriving soon.

  But Stephen hadn’t killed him yet, so Charlie counted his blessings.

  The door finally opened, and Stephen Moyer entered again without a folder. Charlie waited to see if he would come alone, and he did. Another good sign. If they wanted him dead, they would have brought more muscle. Stephen might have been in charge, but he wasn’t a killer. Charlie knew what those men looked like.

  “It seems your story about the enemy forces heading our way is accurate,” Stephen said.

  “So, you’ll let me go?” Charlie asked.

  Stephen was nervous. There was more vital energy to him than before, and he bounced his knee nervously every few minutes, catching himself to stop it but shaking it, nonetheless.

  “I want to trust you, Mr. Owens,” Stephen said, “but you’re not telling me the whole truth.”

  “I just want to get home to my family,” Charlie said. “And I can’t do that if The Bunker thinks I’m still alive.”

  “Then why come here?” Stephen asked.

  Charlie knew a few ways he could play this, but there was only one path forward to success. “You’re making something here The Bunker wants the Chinese to have,” Charlie answered. “I’m guessing it has something to do with rebuilding after the EMP.” He tilted his head to the side. “I’m assuming that’s your department and why you’ve been recently promoted.”

  “And what makes you think I’ve been recently promoted?” Stephen asked.

  “Because you’re nervous,” Charlie answered. “Almost every security chief I’ve ever met has had balls of steel, hardened by years in the position. You’re not there yet, so it makes me think you’re new.”

  Stephen clenched his jaw, rippling the muscles along his face.

  “I want whatever it is that you’ve built,” Charlie said. “And giving it to me is the only way you’re going to stop it from falling into enemy hands.”

  “I think you’re underestimating this facility’s ability to defend itself,” Stephen said. “And now that we know what’s coming, we can prepare.”

  “You don’t have the men needed to defend this place,” Charlie said. “They will breach, and they’ll kill everyone when they do. But your hard work doesn’t need to be for nothing.” He leaned forward, entirely focused on Stephen. “I’m betting you were the project team lead for whatever was built here, am I right?”

  “Yes,” Stephen answered begrudgingly.

  “Do you want your life’s work in the hands of an enemy?” Charlie asked.

  Stephen didn’t have to answer because Charlie already knew it. Pride was a funny thing. It could work for you or against you; in this instance, Charlie hoped it was the former. It would serve him well if Charlie could convince this man that he was the only way to keep his legacy intact.

  “And why should I trust you?” Stephen asked.

  “Because you and I have the same enemy right now,” Charlie answered.

  “The Chinese?” Stephen asked.

  “The Bunker,” Charlie answered. “They want to undermine you, and I want to undermine them. It’s simple math.”

 

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