Chapter 5

Episode 10 - Whistle Down the Wind

“Marcus?” Harper’s whispered word finally broke the suffocating stillness, and Brady pulled in a breath through lungs that felt like they were held in a vise.

“Dear Lord Jesus.” The prayer left his lips in a strangled whisper, but before he could say anything more, Dash’s voice cut in, hard and decisive.

“Car, status now!”

“It’s—just as bad as—it sounds.” Car sounded like she was fighting for breath as hard as Brady. “Whole house—completely caved in. We need fire. EMS. No idea who else. Maybe an excavator.”

“Call it, Shadow. Car, need an address.”

“We’re on—on Carleton Street. It’s a tiny road—middle of the block—I’m not sure—”

“Good enough.” Harper slapped the phone to her ear, and Dash gave a quick nod before turning his attention back to the earpiece.

“Car, keep this line open. Marcus! Can you hear us?”

Harper was already speaking urgently to the dispatcher, and Dash’s arm twitched toward the door in what might have been an awkward jerk or a completely uncontrolled movement. But Harper seemed to take it as a signal and scrambled off her couch and out the door, taking the noise with her.

“Marcus!” Dash’s tone snapped like a whip in the silence left in the room. “If you can hear me, make some sort of noise. Say something, tap something, groan, cry—I don’t care.”

Brady closed his eyes and clenched his fists, straining his ears for the faintest hint of noise beyond their own strained breathing, but there was nothing.

“God, no, please!” The words tore his heart even as they struggled from his numb lips, and the shaking in his hands began to travel up his arms.

“Brady,” Rachelle murmured from somewhere, but he couldn’t answer—couldn’t speak—could barely think—

“Hey!” The sharp growl brought him back to attention with a jolt, and he looked up to see a deeper scowl than usual on Dash’s face. “You hear anything at all? Even the debris settling?”

Brady shook his head with an effort, but before he could remind Dash that he didn’t have anything close to his super hearing today, the other guy was speaking again.

“Yeah. Me neither. Probably totally knocked out his earpiece. Doesn’t mean he’s dead.”

Blunt as they were, the words still contained a faint ray of hope, and Brady gasped the first real breath he’d managed in what felt like forever.

“But he should—if he was—okay—he’d get himself out. Or try to. Car would see it.”

“Never said he was okay.” The deep scowl was still firmly etched into Dash’s face, but somehow Brady found himself drawing strength from the matter-of-fact assessment. “Probably isn’t. Won’t know anything until he’s dug out. You spiral now, you’re no help to anyone. Marcus included.”

He was completely right, and even through the fog of worry and the pounding in his head, Brady couldn’t help admiring the guy’s ability to stay calm and in control during a crisis.

“Hey! Listen to me.” Car’s fierce voice came suddenly over the line, and Brady jumped, but she was speaking again before anyone could reply. “You stand right here. Don’t move from this spot! When the firemen come, you tell them that the boy and your kitty are in that house, all right? Do not cross that street for any reason!”

Light finally dawned, and Brady’s fear multiplied as he remembered the child who had been Marcus’s reason for entering the rickety building in the first place.

“And you can’t keep him there why?” Dash’s growl was deeper than ever, and Car’s answer came back on a harsh whisper.

“Because if there’s any way to get him out before the trucks get here, you can bet your life I’m going to take it.”

“Car, watch yourself! Be careful.” Rachelle leaned forward in her chair, rocking anxiously back and forth, but Dash quickly interjected again.

“If you’re on-site, you better keep the narration going. Just in case something else happens.”

“Yeah. Just circling. Not in range of anything. I have never seen a house that looked more like a pancake. Where was he again?” Car coughed hard, and Brady sucked in a short breath.

“Basement. Any idea where that puts him?”

“Can’t tell from outside. Somewhere near the kitchen probably. That’s honestly—the one place that might have a chance of being—survivable, if—” Car broke into another coughing fit, and the alarm bells in Brady’s head began to ring even louder.

“Get out of there now!” Dash snapped, and Car must have listened, because after a few seconds, the coughs trailed off, and her voice came back a little strained.

“Sorry. Dust is—pretty intense.”

“Stay out of it.” Dash was still clearly in command, and Brady realized belatedly that neither he nor Car had sniped at each other once since Marcus had been in trouble. “You pass out and need oxygen, it’ll be that much less help for Micro.”

“He’s not wrong—” Rachelle started, but Brady gasped as a lightbulb suddenly went off in his brain.

“Marcus! The dust and dirt—if he’s not—not crushed—that amount of stuff in the air could literally kill him! We have to get him out!”

“Can’t do it—without a gas mask,” Car choked out, and Brady’s lungs constricted harder.

Father, get them there fast!

“Harper, any word on that rescue?” Dash called, and Harper turned from where she’d been pacing just outside the door.

“They’re working on it. I’m not the only one that called it in—but nobody else reported someone inside.”

“Did they say how long?” Rachelle let the question trail hesitantly, and Harper shook her head.

“No idea. But before you could power up if you wanted to, so you’d better not be thinking about it.”

Rachelle sighed, and Dash cut a glare in her direction.

“You think you’re digging around in that? If half the neighborhood’s called it in already? No way you could keep that under wraps—or act like it’s normal.”

Rachelle’s lips opened, then pressed tight, but before she could say anything, Car was speaking again.

“Don’t try it, Chelle. Midge is great, but this place was brick. You can’t just pry up and cart off a hunk of siding. You’d need some kind of scoop—or some other equipment I can’t think of right now—or you’d literally be chucking things by the handful. Let fire do their job; the team’s gonna need you, whatever happens.”

Rachelle’s body didn’t relax, but she sat back in her chair, and Brady closed his eyes again and listened to the silence until he couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I can’t do this.” The words were quiet, but they might as well have been a shout in the breathless hush.

“Brady…” Rachelle started, but he shook his head hard enough to set his pounding brain swirling in his skull.

“I can’t just sit here! I know I can’t help, but I have to do something. Anything. Just—be there. I’m the one who let him—”

Rachelle gave a little gasp, and Dash growled from deep in his throat, but Car managed to put words to their sentiment first.

“Oh, no, you are not putting that on yourself!” The sharp words must have scraped a raw spot in her throat, and she had to pause to cough hard before she could continue. “You mother-henned him today as much as anyone could. We spent a good hour testing out his lungs—on your request, remember—and I don’t know what more you could have done. Or who made you responsible for approving his missions in the first place.”

“It’s—nobody made me. I just—”

“I’m as responsible as you are,” Rachelle whispered, and Brady buried his head in his hands.

“You’re not. I’m the one who—gave him permission. I’m the one he asked for it. I’m the one who promised—” Brady sucked in a breath as his heart seemed to skip a beat. “Oh. Quentin! I have to call—” A sickening throb snaked through his head, and he gripped the couch hard, praying for the pain to subside.

“Easy.” The creak of Rachelle’s recliner reached his ears at nearly the same instant that a soft hand touched his shoulder, and Dash’s huff sounded from somewhere further away.

“Midge, I swear, if you throw your body out for real—”

A lump of guilt clogged Brady’s throat, and he swallowed hard as he forced his eyes open to meet Rachelle’s worried ones.

“Sorry. I just—” He broke off, searching for words in the scrambled thoughts clogging his aching head. “I promised I’d take care of him. It’s way too late, but—I want to be there. I need to be there. Not—not there in the thick of it—just close. Please.”

“Brady…” Rachelle’s eyes met his, so full of pain that Brady had to look away.

“If it was Grace—wouldn’t you go?”

It was an unfair question and not even a good comparison by any ordinary logic, but Brady didn’t have the ability to express how real the analogy felt to him. Rachelle studied him for a long moment before she finally sighed and pushed slowly to her feet.

“Dash, can you and Harper hold down the fort here?”

“Seriously?” Dash’s protest was a grumble but not a full-on growl. “Fine. But either one of you starts clawing through that rubble, I’m dragging you back here by the collar, got it?”

“On my honor.” Rachelle lifted her right hand like she was taking an oath in court, and Dash turned a raised eyebrow on Brady.

“Won’t get close. Promise.”

“You’d better stick to that.” Dash’s face twisted into a scowl again, but he didn’t offer any more argument.

“Is that a call for me to come up there?” Car’s always confident voice was unusually conflicted, and Rachelle shook her head as she moved toward the door.

“Not even a little bit. We’ll catch another ride. Stay there and report if anything…” She let the sentence trail off as she exhaled a long breath. “I’ll order a ride and brief Dr. Mattox. Brady, grab your sunglasses. And…you’d better call Quentin.”