Chapter 8 - The Price of Survival
The ringing in Elena’s ears was so intense it bordered on deafening pain. The concussion wave had thrown her violently against the stone wall, knocking the consciousness out of her for several endless seconds. When the dark haze cleared, the air was choked with gray smoke and the acrid stench of sulfur.
She coughed violently, dragging herself upright. Gabriel was slumped over the armrest of his overturned chair, motionless, a dark streak of blood pooling from a laceration above his temple.
""Gabriel!"" she cried out, her voice sounding like it was muffled under deep water.
She crawled to him, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him onto his back. Her fingers frantically checked his carotid artery. A pulse—weak, erratic, but there. Around them, the dust hung thick in the air, obscuring visibility to less than ten feet. But she could hear the crunch of boots slowly pacing through the water. They were closing in.
Desperation took over. Elena abandoned the broken wheelchair. Gripping Gabriel under his arms, she planted her heels into the slippery sludge and pulled with every ounce of physical strength she possessed. Her muscles burned, her lungs screaming for oxygen as she dragged him inch by painful inch toward the iron lip of the drainage conduit.
Gabriel’s eyes fluttered open, glassy with pain and disorientation. ""Elena... leave it..."" he groaned, coughing up dark phlegm.
""I said shut up!"" she growled through gritted teeth, hauling his heavy frame over the raised concrete lip into the dark, circular tunnel.
Just as his boots cleared the opening, a silhouette emerged from the smoke-filled corridor. It was an operative clad in black body armor, his assault rifle raised directly at her face. Elena reached blindly into Gabriel's open coat, her fingers wrapping around the grip of his discarded pistol.
She didn't aim; she didn't hesitate. She leveled the barrel with two shaking hands and pulled the trigger until the slide locked back.
The operative collapsed backward into the shallow water, splashing silently into the shadows. The sudden stillness was suffocating. Elena dropped the empty gun, trembling uncontrollably, her chest heaving as she stared at the fallen soldier.
""Move,"" Gabriel rasped from the floor beside her, his voice a harsh rattle. ""The others heard that. Seal the grate.""
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Elena turned and grabbed the rusted iron flood-gate suspended by chains above the conduit entrance. With a desperate heave, she slipped the retaining pin. The massive iron portcullis crashed down with finality, locking them in the pitch-black dampness of the underground river tunnel.
On the other side of the bars, angry shouts and gunfire rang out, but the thick iron held. They were plunged into total darkness, surrounded only by the steady rush of underground water.
