Connor and Vince fight their forbidden attraction as they attempt to rescue themselves and fellow residents of the underground Refuge facility from a toxic breach.
*****
Conn...
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Patrick peered up at the massive fallen structure. "What's this?"
"It must've been one of the base towers," I said, offering the only possible explanation. The only structures built in this area had been a cluster of military facilities that supported the Refuge Inc. Safeguard Ballistic and Anti-Ballistic Program, which had detected incoming aerial threats. Even though the structures were built to withstand most threats and to last for many years, the near complete destruction of this one was proof that an underground spherical design would hold up to more wear and tear and the multitude of earthquakes after impact than tons of concrete and steel on the surface.
Patrick turned to me, curiosity lighting his eyes. "Want to investigate the debris?"
"It might prove difficult with my injuries. But before we discuss investigating, I need help out of this suit." I tugged at the fabric again.
"You sure?" The look in his eyes was all that I needed to know he meant there was no turning back. Even though a part of me was at peace with the idea of death, my faith in Patrick's skills and the amount of care I had for him was high. The precautions I took from now on were mainly for his peace of mind.
"Absolutely, I'm sure." I'd probably rip the suit off with my bare hands if I had to stay inside it for another ten minutes. The intense heat was more than unbearable.
"Remove your gloves, first." He assisted me by pulling each finger until the glove slid off into his hands. "Before you remove the helmet, we need to attach the contraption to the hose of the internal visor. That means you'll have to hold your breath until I get it on properly. Then you'll expel oxygen from the internal visor through your face mask before taking a breath."
"Okay." I paused as he removed the device from his pack. "How long will I have to hold my breath?"
"At the least, thirty seconds."
I nodded. "And at the most?"
His eyes cut up and to the left as he calculated in his head. "Ninety, but that's the maximum."
I exhaled, suddenly unsure about the chance of success. I debated whether or not to admit not being able to hold my breath that long. "Ninety seconds? What if I can't—"
"You can, Damien." He reached out, sliding his palm into mine. He squeezed my hand, giving it two gentle pumps, and taking me by surprise as electric warmth tingled the spots where he touched. Our gazes met, and the care in his eyes struck me. "You can do this."
His assurance calmed my racing heart as his hand and attention returned to the makeshift filter. After all the time it had taken to help him halve and properly shape the two soda cans containing layers of thick, sterile gauze and fine charcoal inside—that we had found among the debris and pulverized after activating it with the calcium chloride we had stored in our packs for performing surface studies—I owed it to him to prove my trust in his knowledge and abilities. "Tell me what to do."
