Page 123 of Beyond Oblivion

“So, are these like… people you know because of all this, or…” I trailed off.

“No more questions. From this moment on, we put all of this behind us like it never happened, are we clear?”

“I mean… how do I just…” I began.

“Trent,” she said, her voice sharp. “Promise me you’ll let this go. We can’t talk about this again. It’s over.”

I frowned, the sound of that rubbing like a sandpaper massage on my asshole.

Faster than Domino’s, the faint sound of the first of two approaching helicopters broke through the stillness of the desert. My chest tightened with a mix of relief and urgency.

Camille stood beside me, her arms folded tightly, her eyes locked on the horizon. “The quick response team really is quick,” she murmured, almost to herself.

“They can get water, blankets, and medical supplies down to him and start planning the rescue while we wait for the big guns,” Liis said. “Unless they have a backboard and hoist onboard, then we may make Earl’s, after all.”

An hour before sunset, dozens of red and blue lights lit up the sea of sand surrounding us, working with an efficiency that proved to be both comforting and nerve-wracking. Once a plan was formed, one of the helicopters stirred back to life, kicking up a whirlwind of sand and grit as it hovered over the gorge, the loud chop of the blades drowning out everything else. A crew of three rappelled down with precision, their movements seamless—just another day at the office.

Camille watched with me from the back of an ambulance, pulling the silver emergency blanket tight around her. “He’ll be up any minute,” she said, barely audible above the whir of the rotors.

“What do you make of all this?” I asked.

“I don’t know, baby, and to be honest, I don’t care. As long as it’s over,” she said.

“I’ll drink to that,” I said, nodding. My throat was too tight to form words as I watched the team communicate with sharp, efficient gestures.

One of the rescuers was already on the ledge with Thomas, running an IV. Another was in the helicopter preparing to descend with a backboard, clipping himself onto a line, testing the tension with a quick tug before stepping off the edge. For a heart-stopping moment, he seemed to hover, then dropped smoothly, dangling in midair like a pendulum as the rope trembled under his weight.

I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms, the sharp sting barely registering. Each second felt stretched and fragile. My eyes never left the rescuer as he descended further, the gap between extraction and the ledge Thomas had been camped on for hours shrinking agonizingly slowly.

Finally, the man stationed at the back of the helicopter leaned out, scanning the line below before giving a sharp signal to the pilot that Thomas was secure. A few long seconds passed before the backboard came into view, my brother lying flat and strapped in, a brace around his neck. The board swayed slightly as the helicopter reached high enough elevation to begin moving him to high ground, the ropes creaking under the tension. My breath caught in my throat as I watched Thomas ascend, the wind from the rotors whipping around him and sending sand spiraling into the air. The entire scene felt like it was moving in slow motion—the board climbing steadily higher, the rescuer gripping the line with practiced ease, and the ground team focused on the shaky ascent. The sight of Thomas being hoisted up, his body dangling precariously over the drop, made my stomach churn.

I stood frozen, my hands clenched at my sides, unable to exhale until the stretcher reached the safety of the ground and Thomas was unclipped from the ropes. Only then did I let out a shaky breath, my chest aching from the tension.

“He’s okay!” Camille said, hugging me to her side with both hands.

Liis rushed over, holding his hand in hers as the ground team worked the straps and moved him onto a stretcher, stabilizing him as they checked his vitals and moved him to a second helicopter, this one a med evac.

“Liis is going to ride with him, get the baby checked out,” a paramedic said, tugging my sleeve to get my attention. “You two will be riding in the back of my rig.”

I nodded, my eyes fixed on the emergency responders as they carefully carried Thomas toward the waiting med evac. Liis hobbled close behind them, her pregnant gait awkward against the soft sand. Just as they reached the helicopter, she paused, turning back to search for us. Her gaze locked on mine, and she lifted a hand in a brief wave, her expression a mix of exhaustion, relief, and reassurance. Camille and I waved back, lingering for a moment before climbing into the back of an ambulance waiting nearby. The medic gestured for us to sit as the doors shut behind us with a heavy clang.

As the diesel engine rumbled to life, I glanced at Camille, her hand gripping the edge of the bench tightly, and I knew we were both holding on to the same thought—we’d see them soon, but we were over an hour away from the closest hospital.

The ride was loud and bumpy, the constant hum of the equipment and the medics’ clipped voices filling the space. Camille relaxed her head on my shoulder, the silver sheet still wrapped around her like a security blanket.

“They’re checking in over the radio. He’s stable for now,” the medic said, sensing her worry. “We’ll know more when we get him to the hospital.”

The ambulance jolted slightly as it hit a bump, making the whole damn metal box shake. Camille looked up at me, relief washing over her face.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” I asked.

Her brows pulled in. “I thought we agreed not to.”

I chuckled. “YourSophie’s Choicemoment.”

“Oh, that,” she said, swallowing. “Can we not? I’m going to have nightmares for years.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. You had to make an impossible call.”

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