Page 60 of Mountain Security

Adeline.

Tom.

No.

Yvette struggled to breathe under the bulk of Alex’s body. This wasn’t like when they’d been having sex, when Alex had held his weight off her with his arms. No. He was purposefully squashing her into the ground, sheltering her with his own body. She breathed a shallow breath—her lungs refused to inflate properly—then another one, counting in her mind the seconds.

One.

We’re going to die.

Two.

I don’t want to die.

Three.

Please, no.

Four.

Not Alex.

She lost count then. She scrunched her eyes closed. She couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t just because of Alex’s weight on her. If anything, his weight centered her, his beating heart the only thing that made sense in a world that had gone absolutely mad. And if these were her last moments on earth, then she’d—

Eventually, Alex raised his head, grinning lopsidedly at her. He stood up cautiously, and Yvette breathed in her first deep breath in what seemed like hours. She felt lightheaded, whether from fear or lack of oxygen, she wasn’t sure.

And still the ticking went on.

Alex barked at someone to call the police, gave them a number that was much longer than the emergency number they all knew.

Then his hand wrapped around hers, pulling her up easily. He didn’t let go of her once she was upright, and she was grateful, because her knees felt like putty.

Alex picked up the box and pulled at something. The ticking stopped, mercifully.

The silence was immediately filled with shouts, but Yvette heard them as if from a long distance away, sheltered as she was in Alex’s embrace.

“You okay?” he asked softly, so only she could hear.

Am I okay?

She now knew the meaning of the wordsmy life flashed before my eyes.

She looked up at Alex, stared right into his deep blue eyes. And it suddenly struck her, she wasn’t the only one who’d thought they were instants away from death. He’d thought the bomb was real, too. And his instinct had been to leap across the room and protect her with his own body.

God.

Yvette’s breaths grew irregular. She felt herself getting lightheaded once again.

“Yvette?” His voice was more urgent this time. “Yvette, I need you to breathe with me. Concentrate on my voice. We’re going to breathe in together. There. Hold it … And let it out. One more time.”

Yvette breathed with him, listening to his voice, focusing on the warmth of his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m okay,” she finally breathed. “I’m okay.”

But Alex wasn’t staring at her anymore. He was staring at a piece of paper that had fallen out of the box.

This bomb wasn’t real, but the next one will be.

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