In Your Embrace (8 page)

“No.”
 He shakes his head.  “I think we were in the eye.”

His first instinct is to wrap his arms about the younger woman to protect her from whatever harm is coming their way.
 Timothy has always been a natural protector, but what good did that do him when Abby got hurt?  When she was taken from him?

“Can you see now why this is a bad id—” he turns to look at Hannah beside him and realizes she is gone.
 Whirling around, his stomach rises into his throat as he sees her diving for the hole.

“No!” he screams and races forward, but it’s too late.
 There’s no going back.  She’s inside and he can’t do anything to help her.  Hannah is on her own now.

EIGHT

Going Under

Hannah’s elbows are raw and bleeding.
 The path before her is littered with fragments of cracked tile, broken glass, and numerous other sharp objects.  She grits her teeth as she drags herself forward, keeping her legs stretched out straight behind her.

Her earlier confidence wanes the further she burrows into the collapsed building.
 Each time a rafter shifts, raining a cloud of thick dust upon her, Hannah fights back her growing claustrophobia.  
What was I thinking?
plays on repeat in her mind.

She has never liked small, confined spaces.
 Although she has no memory of ever being trapped in a dark closet or accidentally locked in a basement as a child, she has always been uneasy with situations like this.  
Yeah, situations that could leave me as flat as a pancake
.

“Pastor Justin? Can you hear me?” she calls out, trying to keep focused.
 She has been calling every few feet but still has not found him.  The space begins to narrow up ahead.  The wooden beams creak overhead.  Any minute this whole place could collapse in on her, but she pushes that thought away as she forces herself on.  If she gives up, Pastor Justin is as good as gone.

A moan from up ahead captures her attention.
 “Pastor Justin?  Is that you?”

She strains to hear over the howling of the winds above, but she thinks she can hear him—there, not too far up ahead.
 Fueled by hope, Hannah digs deep and drags herself forward.  She cries out as a shard of glass buries into her forearm, leaving a trail of blood behind.

“Help,” a weakened voice calls.

“I’m coming!”  She grunts as she hurries, her frustration mounting at how little maneuvering space she has.  She blinks, realizing that the sunlight that originally lit her path in broken shafts has nearly disappeared completely, leaving deep shadows in its place.

Her pant leg snags and tugs her back.
 Hannah jerks her leg, fighting against the invisible nail.

“Please…” the voice calls again.
 “I think my leg is broken.”

Hannah rocks to the side and grins in triumph as her jeans tear, freeing her.
 “I’m almost there.”

Ducking her head, she pulls
herself the last two feet and finds herself in a larger space.  A man, perhaps in his early thirties and covered from head to toe in grime, lies before her.  The remnants of his office lie scattered around them—dozens of books, shattered picture frames, crushed plants, and a partially intact wooden desk.  It is this cherry wood desk that has saved the Pastor. He lies partially halfway under it, spared from the great wooden rafter that collapsed in on him.

As she works her way toward him, she realizes that the collapsed end of the desk pins him in place.

“I see you!”

He raises his head and she meets his pain-laced gaze.
 She hurries toward him, ignoring the pain in her forearms as she finds a relatively clear spot to rise onto her knees and survey the damage.  “Can you move your other leg?”

“Yes.” He nods in affirmation.
 “It is just my right that is pinned.”

Rising slightly, she peers into the dark beneath the desk and sees that his left leg is bent at the knee but the lower portion of his right leg is beneath the crushed wood.
 As best she can tell, there is only a minimal amount of blood, which must be a good thing.

Hannah bites down on her lower lip as she looks at the beam.
 It is nearly ten feet long and looks to be very solid.  “I’m not sure I can lift this on my own, and even if I can, shifting it might bring the rest of the roof down on us.”

Pastor Justin nods.
 “I’ve already come to that same conclusion.”  His focus shifts as he grimaces, as if a new wave of pain has gripped him.  Hannah rushes to his side and holds his hand.  Despite his obvious exhaustion, his grip is firm until the pain begins to fade away again.

“How bad is it?”

He offers her a weak smile.  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Hannah smiles back.
 “Are all you southern men this tough?”

Justin laughs but is seized by a coughing fit.
 She holds on to him until it subsides.  “We have our moments,” he finally manages.

Determined to get this man to safety, Hannah lifts her gaze and begins to follow the maze of wood above her.
 Several smaller beams have collapsed on top of the one that rests upon the Pastor’s desk.  If she can just move those…

“Hold on a moment.
 I’m going to see if I can shift some of this weight.”

He calls out a warning, but Hannah is already on the move. She ducks and weaves, moving forward in a low crouch that burns in her thighs until she is finally able to half stand between two fallen rafters.

She can feel the violence of the winds that funnel down from overhead.  The sky has gone black.  The clouds seal out all sunlight. Droplets of rain begin to patter against her nose as she turns away.

“Can you see anything?” Pastor Justin calls.

“Nothing useful,” she mutters and refocuses on her task.  Placing her hands upon a smaller beam, she braces with her legs and lifts.  At first the beam hardly moves.  She holds her breath as the wood around her groans, but she manages to shift it aside.

“That’s one down,” she grunts.

“How many more?”

She ducks to look back at him and sees that he has pushed up to slump forward, his head pressed against the desk drawer.
 
I’m running out of time!

“Don’t you worry about it,” she calls back as she seizes the next beam.
 “I’ll have you out of here in no time.”

The minutes drag by.
 Her shoulders scream in protest and her arms tremble under the weight, but slowly and as carefully as she can manage, she begins to make a hole.

Sinking back down into the darkness, Hannah realizes she can hardly see the Pastor now.
 “Call out to me,” she requests and follows his voice.  He is weaker now.  Far too weak to be able to be of much help when she lifts the large beam.

What am I going to do now?
Looking around her, Hannah searches for anything that might help create leverage, like she and Timothy had done earlier in the day to free Iris, but there is nothing.  The beams are too long to maneuver into place in such a confined space.

Water taps against her head as the rains begin to arrive, making everything slick.
 A chill runs through her as she pushes back her damp hair. “Can you help me lift?”

“I can try.”

“Alright.  When I count to three, I want you to push up on the desk as hard as you can.  Once your leg is unpinned, you need to get free.  I won’t be able to hold it long.”

He nods and braces, gritting his teeth against the sure pain that is about to sweep over him.
 “One.  Two.  Three!”

The desktop groans as he pushes against it. Pain flares along Hannah’s lower back as she lifts on the beam.
 The muscles cord in her neck and she can feel the strain reddening her face.

“It’s no use!” he calls, falling back.
 Hannah releases her grip and slams her palm against the beam in frustration. He’s right.  They barely managed to lift it an inch, hardly enough to make any difference.

A flash of lightning overhead startles the Pastor.
 “Was that lightning?”

Hannah nods, sinking down beside him.
 She is spent, her energy utterly wasted.  When was the last time she ate?  Last night?  Yes, at the meal her uncle Andrew made for her. Far too long to go without, considering the strenuous day she has had.  Obviously, adrenaline has its own empty tank as well.

“The eye has moved,” she whispers, leaning her head back against a fallen rafter and looks up into the sky.
 The rain pelts down at her, soothing the heat that feels suffocating in this small space.

“You need to leave.”

She sits up.  “I’m not leaving you.”

“Well you can’t stay.
 I won’t have you risking your life for me.  We’ve proven that this is impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible with God,” she responds, and the fear that she previously saw beginning to encroach into the pastor’s eye is replaced by contrition.
 She places a hand on his arm.  “It’s ok to admit that you’re afraid because that’s when you realize you aren’t strong enough to succeed on your own.”

Pastor Justin grins through his pain.
 “Maybe I need to step aside and let you preach this weekend.”

Hannah laughs, shaking her head.
 “I’m not so good with crowds.”

“Well,” he holds out his hand and waits for her to accept it, “at least let me extend the invitation to join us, though I have no clue where we will meet in all of this mess.”

Hannah feels a flush rise into her cheeks as she smiles back.  “I’d love to, but first let’s get you out of here.”

Squinting against the dark, she can barely make out anything beyond a four-foot radius.
 The chances of them making it out of here alive are slim.  This is a fact that she accepted the moment she reminded Pastor Justin that neither of them are strong enough to save themselves.

Despite all odds, Hannah is determined to do her part.
 “If we can’t lift it off you, maybe we can push it.”

“Push it?”
 There is a hint of alarm in his voice as he glances overhead, blinking against the rain that falls in steady waves now.  “Won’t that bring everything down on top of us?”

“Honestly,” she turns to look at him, “I don’t think we have much of a choice at the moment. Help isn’t coming and we are running out of time.
 All we can do is wait on a miracle.”

Pastor Justin nods.
 His face is grim as Hannah moves into position.  “I’ll push the beam. You lift the desk the moment it’s free.”

“Can you do this?”

She pauses and shrugs.  “Guess we’ll find out.”

Placing her hands upon the slick wood, Hannah plants her feet, allowing them to settle into the rubble to find a firm footing.
 She tries not to think of how weary she is, how easy it would be to drop from sheer exhaustion.  Instead, she turns back to stare at Justin, the man depending on her.

“On three.”
 Without waiting for him to reply she pushes with all her might.  He cries out as the beam shifts.  The sickening crunch from beneath the desk makes her stomach clench but she doesn’t stop pushing.  The beam slides an inch and comes to rest.  The unstable structure around her groans but doesn’t give way.  Panting, she eases back to catch her breath.

“I thought you said on three.”

“I figured it would be easier if you weren’t waiting for the pain.”  Her fingers grip the edge of the beam, all color fleeing as she prepares to push again.  “Are you ready for this?”

“As best I can be—” he howls with pain as the desk begins to lift on one side, placing extra pressure on his leg.
 Hannah pushes till her arms shake violently.

“Almost there…” she grunts as she releases her grip and then slams back against the wood.
 The motion rocks the beam enough to get it close to the edge.  The desk tilts again, but this time there is no cry of pain.  Glancing over her shoulder she sees that Justin has passed out.

Small miracles.
 
She steps back and slams her foot into the beam, pushing with all her might.  A terrifying groan echoes through the space and she ducks, sure that she’s about to be buried alive.  The beam tumbles to the ground.  A cloud of dust rises into the moist air.  The wooden planks around her tremble and creak.  Several shift, falling around her, but the main structure miraculously remains intact, settling into a new configuration.

Slowly, Hannah blows out an unsteady breath.
 “That was a bit too close for comfort,” she mutters as she rushes to Justin’s side.

His skin is pallid in the dim light.
 She presses her hand against his clammy neck to check for a pulse and finds his heart rate to be far too slow.  She pats him on the cheek, calling his name, but he doesn’t respond.

Rising to her feet, she braces herself and lifts the desk off his leg.
 The mangled mess she finds below makes her throat clench and she is forced to look away.

Just keep it together.
 
She works diligently to help support his leg for the journey out but she fears that the damage may not be reparable.  She’s never seen a leg so badly broken.

Several minutes pass before Justin begins to come around.
 Hannah returns to his side and cradles his head.  “Nice to see you awake again.  I was afraid I’d lost you there for a minute.”

He sits up and glances down at his leg.
 The splint she managed to fashion out of broken boards and strips of curtains is wrapped tightly around his leg.  His eyes widen before he looks away again.  He looks as if he might faint but manages to keep himself upright.  Hannah places a hand on his shoulder and waits for him to look at her.  “There’s no easy way out of here.  I’m afraid you’re going to have to pull yourself through that hole I came in through.”