Page 174 of Hell and High Water

Then it’s tumbling away down the hill.

I watch it, stunned for a second, before Gavin grabs my arm, yanking me along.

“Gotta try to disarm the last one!”

By the time we get there, my hopes of that happening, and my energy reserves, are all but dry.

Gavin doesn’t even flinch, dropping to his knees and passing me his light. All I can do is stand there like a fool, holding the light for him to try to save us.

Helpless.

A way I swore never to feel again.

One minute slips away as he fidgets with the wiring, opening panels, examining the interior of the mechanism. I can see the truth on his face before he finally looks up.

“Failsafe!” he shouts, the words enough to tell me there’s no chance.

“Can we drag it?” I ask, but I know the answer. We’re both too tired, and it will take too long.

“I can diminish the blast if I rip out the wires from the base…” He says it tentatively.

“But…?”

“But it will go off if I do.”

“How much time?”

Not what we have left, but for us to get clear.

“Enough.” I’ve never heard Gavin lie before.

I choose to take it. Go with it.

Because I know he won’t back down. That if I try to get him to go without doing this, I’ll be arguing with a brick wall more sturdy than the fucking dam above us.

“Do it!” I shout, spreading my feet, preparing to run.

Gavin crouches down, jamming his hand deep into the frame. He locks eyes with me. Everything goes dead quiet in my head.

Then he yanks his hand out.

Grabbing his arm, I jerk him along with me, sprinting harder than I ever have. All I can hear is my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Our ragged breathing.

Our thumping footfalls in the gravel, just audible over the roar of the water farther down the dam.

The concussion of the bomb throws us off our feet. My ears ring as I spin through the air.

Gavin’s hand is the only anchor point to reality I have left, his fingers crushing mine in a vise grip as we tumble.

When the water hits us, it’s a blisteringly cold hammer blow to the head, the shock of the temperature and the force of the torrent nearly tearing us apart. In the span of three seconds, we’re tossed down the embankment, down the slope, into the trees.

Trunks snap.

I manage to kick off one and dodge another, Gavin trailing behind me. Even in the tumult of the rapids, he never lets go.

Something hits my lower leg, and a resounding snap rattles through me. Blinding pain hits a split second later.

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