Page 103 of Heat Island
Of course they did. Because that’s exactly what four brilliant and stubborn men would do when faced with an impassable road—walk back toward the emergency shelter rather than wait for help that might never come.
The data center sits in the distance like a concrete bunker, its solar panels glinting dully through the ash. It’s maybe two miles from the abandoned car, but two miles through increasingly dangerous terrain as the volcanic activity intensifies.
“Take us to the data center,” I order, gripping the door handle so tightly my knuckles turn white.
The pilot shakes his head. “Ma’am, the ash is getting thicker. Landing pad might not be?—”
“Then hover. Lower me down. Do whatever you have to do.” My voice carries every ounce of authority I’ve ever possessed. “I’m not going back without them.”
THIRTY-NINE
KYREN
My lungs burnas if someone stuffed them with broken glass and ash. Each breath tastes like sulfur and dirt, and I wonder if this is what hell feels like. I press my shirt over my nose and mouth, but it barely helps. The fabric is already gray with volcanic dust.
“This is insane,” I wheeze, stumbling over loose rocks as we climb the winding road. The visibility is maybe ten feet in front of us, everything beyond that swallowed by the thick haze. “We’re never going to make it back to the damn data center.”
Matheo’s voice cuts through the murky air ahead of me. “Just keep following the road. We’re more than halfway there.”
“How can you possibly know that?” I cough violently, and I swear I can taste pieces of my own damn lungs. “We can’t see shit in this smog.”
If I get through this alive, I swear I’m never touching another vape pen. The irony of dying from smoke inhalation after years of voluntarily filling my lungs with flavored fumes isn’t lost on me.
Cash’s voice drifts back from somewhere in the gray mess. “Kyren’s right about the visibility, but we’ve been walking for over an hour. Turning back to the car now doesn’t make sense when we’re this close.”
“This close to what?” I stop walking entirely, hands on my knees as another coughing fit doubles me over. “We don’t even know if the data center is still standing. What if the volcano has already destroyed it?”
“It’s a geothermal facility,” Lucas calls out, his usual cheerful tone strained but determined. “It’s literally built to withstand volcanic activity. Dr. Chen said they have emergency protocols.”
I straighten up, wiping ash from my eyes. The stuff gets everywhere—in my hair, down my shirt, coating my skin like gray makeup. We look like zombies shuffling through the apocalypse.
“Emergency protocols,” I mutter. “Great. Hope those protocols include miracle cures for lung cancer.”
Through the haze, I can just make out Matheo’s silhouette. He’s stopped walking too, probably waiting for me to catch up. The guy’s in better shape than I am, all that hiking with his camera equipment paying off.
“Look,” I rasp, my voice barely recognizable. “I’m just saying we should consider our options here. The car might not be comfortable, but at least we know where it is.”
“The car with the cracked engine block and no phone signal?” Cash drawls sarcastically. “The car that’s sitting next to a giant fissure in the earth?”
“Better than wandering around in this toxic cloud,” I snap back, then immediately regret it as the outburst triggers another coughing spasm.
Matheo’s form materializes beside me. “Hey, you okay?”
I wave him off, still hacking. “Peachy. Just havingsecond thoughts about this whole jungle adventure. Next time Cash wants to do a wilderness trek, he can lick my ass.”
“Don’t threaten him with a good time.” Matheo coughs out a laugh. “We’re almost there. I hear generators running.”
I strain to listen, but all I hear is the distant rumble of volcanic activity and my own labored breathing. Maybe Matheo’s right. Maybe we’re closer than I think. Or maybe the ash and smoke are playing tricks on all of us.
That’s when I hear it.
Faint but unmistakable, cutting through the volcanic haze and the sound of our ragged breathing.
My name.
“Trinity?”
I freeze, tilting my head to listen harder. The others must not hear it because they keep moving, Matheo’s hand slipping from my shoulder as he takes another step up the road.
