Page 118 of Deadly Strain

“Any escape...is good. Call for...extraction?”

“No signal,” Smoke said.

“Stop talking,” Grace ordered, reaching across his body to remove a hefty piece of rock. “Conserve your strength while we get you out.”

“Were the explosions...accidental?” Sharp asked. She was probably going to get mad at him for not following his instructions, but he needed information.

“Don’t think so,” Smoke said. “Found wire and grenades.”

“I don’t like grenades,” Grace muttered.

Grief made him nauseous. “Don’t like them much either,” Sharp whispered.

Grace and Smoke worked silently to remove the rocks and debris from trapping his body. Someone had turned on an LED flashlight, but he still couldn’t see much in the dim light. Dust hung in the air like fog.

When had he lost his night-vision goggles? Probably in the rockfall.

He stared at Grace as she worked and noted she was covered in the fine dust, though a few places on her head, face and neck glistened as she moved around. Blood? Nothing that slowed her down, given her steady movements. If she had died...nope, not going there. He sneezed, which started another coughing fit. This damn dust was going to be the death of him.

Dust.

Spores?

“Doc,” he said softly. “Could we be breathing in spores?”

She paused in her rock removal, more of a stutter, a hesitation, before continuing on. “I doubt it.”

She didn’t sound convinced. “Explain that to me.”

“There wasn’t any evidence this place was ever used as a lab, not even a crude one. I think the microscope was window dressing. If he had spores to kill us, he’d have booby-trapped his stuff with it. He wouldn’t leave it lying around for just anyone to get sick.” She paused for a half second longer this time. “He blew us up instead.”

Sharp tested the words on the tip of his tongue. “This was a trap.” It sounded right, and every one of them had fallen for it, from the general on down.

“I think so.”

“Agreed,” Smoke rumbled. He rolled a larger rock, the size of a carry-on suitcase off Sharp’s right leg and suddenly he could move it. The claustrophobia gripping him let go a little and he flexed, trying to wake up his circulation.

Grace and Smoke worked a little faster.

A moan echoed close by and Grace disappeared. “March?” she asked.

He couldn’t see her or March, but he could hear the stress in her voice. “How bad is he?”

“Broken arm and concussion. I’m not sure he’ll be able to walk on his own.”

Smoke moved another large rock from over his torso, and Sharp found he could breathe easier.

“We’ll figure something out.”

She snorted in obvious disbelief.

“That’s what puts thespecialin Special Forces,” he told her.

There was no reply for a couple of seconds, then Grace said very clearly, “Fuck. Off.”

If she could get angry, she really was okay. “How far away is this exit of yours, Smoke?”

“Not sure. Maybe a quarter mile?”

---