Page 11 of Ford

Breathe.Breathe.

“C’mon!” Anastasia. That was it.

Anytime, God, you could show up.

He’d gotten his vest off, somehow. Realized Anastasia wasn’t in his arms.

Dove, and found her just feet away, submerged in the waves.

Grabbed her and dragged her to shore, a spit of gravel amidst the tumble of ancient, sheared-off boulders.

“Please, please, breathe—” He continued to press her chest, trying to tamp down the rise of panic. Three—four—five—

Overhead, black smoke tufted the sky, his grenade probably acting as an incendiary to the already engulfing blaze.

Please, let his team have gotten out. He vaguely remembered yellingGrenade!as he ran for the window.

He hoped.

Eleven—twelve—

Anastasia coughed, her body writhing, and he immediately turned her so that the sea could run from her mouth. She brought her legs up, fetal position, and began to shake, crying.

He felt like crying too. “You’re okay.” His voice broke as he leaned over her just to confirm she was indeed breathing, his hand shaking. “You’re going to be okay.”

He turned away from her, not wanting her to see him fall apart.Thank you, God.

His earpiece and comms had died with his dunking, so he had to hope that his team might come looking for him. He surveyed the cliff he’d gone over. They were in an alcove of sorts, the cliffs forming a horseshoe around the beach he’d found. A sheer fifty-foot drop rose behind him. He might have a chance of spidering his way over the boulders that fell into the sea and even navigating the nooks and jugs all the way to the top, but no way could he carry someone, even someone as small as Anastasia.

More, given the current and the waves, he’d have to be in better shape to buddy tow her to some other landing. He probably hadn’t broken any ribs, but every inhale washed agony to his core.

He put his hand to his head, right above his ear, and it came away bloody.

Frankly, Ford just wanted to join Anastasia in the fetal position.

He knew he shouldn’t, but just for a second he closed his eyes, the pain flooding over him, tugging at him.

Ford, don’t leave me!Pitch darkness, the clammy breath of wettened stone and trapped air. Fingers, molded into his, hands trembling.

I’m here, RJ. I won’t leave you, I promise.

The memory forced his eyes open, and he wasn’t sure how he’d ended up on his back, staring at the sky, but now the girl bent over him, her eyes wide as she shook him. “Wake up, Mister. Wake up.”

He stared at her, aware that the sun had climbed higher, almost to its apex.

Sitting up only caused the world to sway, and he rolled over to his knees to let his stomach pitch out its contents onto the shore.

“You okay?” she asked as his body finished its violence.

He wiped his arm across his mouth. Nodded.

“You’re still bleeding.”

He touched his head, wincing, and his hand came away sticky. “It’s starting to clot.” He turned around, assessing her.

She appeared wan, but intact, her blue uniform drying, her dark hair in tangles.

“How old are you?”