Page 41 of Honor Code

That was definitely an SOS. Too rhythmic and regular to be caused by the remnants of the rig collapsing in on itself.

Then she saw him, and her heart seized in her chest.

He was lying in the water, clutching a plank of wood. He'd made the banging sound by tapping a piece of steel piping onto what was left of the base of the structure.

Phoenix!

"Oh, my God. You're alive!" She steered the inflatable boat toward him, then reached over and tried to haul him in. He was barely conscious. A deep gash in his hairline leaked blood over his face, and there was another on his arm.

Shit, how was she going to get him into the boat? He was heavy—a dead weight—and unable to help himself. She heaved with all her might until finally she had half of his bulk on the edge of the inflatable. With one last pull, she managed to tip him over the side, and he collapsed into the bottom of the boat.

She dropped to her knees beside him. "Are you alright? Phoenix, speak to me. Can you hear me?"

He tried to open his eyes, but when he did, she noticed they were glazed and unfocused. He was concussed. How badly, she didn't know.

But at least he was alive.

"Where's Boomer?" she asked him, but he didn't respond. He passed out, and if it wasn't for his shallow breathing, she might have thought he was dead.

"Wake up." She gently shook his shoulders. "Please, Phoenix." She'd read somewhere that you shouldn't go to sleep with a concussion because you might never wake up. Whether it was true or not, she had no idea, but she thought she'd better try.

He didn't move.

"Don't die on me," she whispered, smoothing back the hair on his forehead and inspecting the gash. "Don't you dare die on me." It wasn't too deep, but there was swelling around it. That might be what was causing the concussion—or the blast from the explosion. Either way, he needed medical attention, and now.

She didn't have enough gas to reach the Discoverer, but Billy would send help as soon as he could. She estimated half an hour for him to make the journey, another half an hour for them to send a vessel to come and get them. After that, they'd send a rescue crew, the Coast Guard, and forensics from the mainland, but that would take much longer.

Ellie chugged around the base of the rig, looking for Boomer. If Phoenix had somehow managed to survive the blast, maybe he had too. But she couldn't see him in the water. He wasn't hanging on to the burning rig, either.

She took a shuddering gasp. He obviously hadn't made it.

Turning her attention back to Phoenix, she tried to make him more comfortable. "Help is on the way," she whispered. "Hang in there."

A low hum caught her attention. Looking up, she saw a black dot coming toward her. Was the speedboat she'd seen earlier coming back?

Yes, it looked like it. Low, sleek, and black. It sped across the ocean, getting bigger as it came toward her.

Thank God. Help was coming.

Tears began to fall afresh. Phoenix was going to be okay.

CHAPTER 20

"Incoming!" yelled Viper, so named because he was lethal with an M110 sniper rifle. At over a thousand yards, there was nobody better. "Take cover!"

They ducked, seconds before a rocket-propelled grenade hit the bunker they were hiding out in. The force threw Phoenix back against the concrete wall, knocking the air from his lungs. The searing heat made his skin blister. He coughed and groaned, pain lancing through his skull.

"Phoenix? Phoenix, wake up!" urged a distant voice, garbled and indistinct. It wasn't anyone from his unit. It was Ellie.

"Ellie?" he mumbled, but the roaring flames were too intense, engulfing the bunker and driving out the oxygen. He struggled to breathe, his vision darkening at the edges.

"We've gotta get out of here," Viper yelled from somewhere far away. Strong hands grabbed Phoenix under his arms and lifted him up off the dirty floor. Grunting with effort, Viper dragged him out of the burning bunker and into the blinding daylight.

Phoenix shut his eyes against the piercing brightness that sent stabs of agony through his head. The world spun violently. "Need... to... rest," he slurred, his words barely audible.

"Sorry, buddy. We've got to get you somewhere safe. We're under heavy fire here."

The distant rat-a-tat of machine gun fire echoed in Phoenix's ringing ears as Viper carried him across uneven desert ground pockmarked with dry bushes and shrubs. They skidded to a halt behind a small rise where there was a modicum of cover. Here Viper laid him down, but Phoenix barely felt it, drifting in and out of awareness. His head throbbed mercilessly, feeling like it would split open. Why was everything so bright?

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