Page 25 of Wired Ghost

Sophie fought to be free from his tight hold, and they thrashed combatively in their shallow trough.

Consciousness seemed hard to hold onto for Jake.

Was this a nightmare?He couldn’t let go of Sophie, wouldn’t let her out from under him—protecting her was the only idea he could hold onto, even as he heard the rumble of stone grinding against stone and felt a gush of piping-hot water engulfing their resting place.

Earthquake. Lava tube. Geothermal water filling their cozy trench.

Finally, cognition caught up with disembodied black experience.

He was smothering Sophie.

Jake let go of her at last. Sophie kicked him in the thighs, in the stomach, but thankfully not in the balls, as she thrashed her way out of his arms and up onto the bank of the wallow.

The earth’s heaving settled into trembling.

The wails settled into moans.

Falling stone debris turned to a pattering of particles like sharp rain.

Sophie was gone from his touch range, somewhere off to the left, coughing hard.

Jake grasped blindly for the lighter, reaching out to the memorized spot where it had been.

Nothing.Gone.

The quake must have dislodged it.

Panic instantly tightened Jake’s chest and throat.But panic was the enemy. Fear led to death.

He was trained for extreme situations like this.

Jake forced himself to keep his breathing even, to think clearly, to continue to use his hands to search the stone surface of the ledge. He was in control of his mind, body, will, and emotions. He would do whatever was needed to survive and achieve the mission.

But the lighter was definitely AWOL. “Sonofabitch.”

Their cozy sleeping spot was now full of water too hot to tolerate as the quake completely subsided. Jake crawled carefully out of the dip, brushing off pebbles, but continued to pat around the edge of the depression for the lighter. “You okay, babe?”

“Fine, my cootie.” Sophie’s voice was a little hoarse. “Once you stopped crushing me. I located the torch. I hope you have the lighter.”

“The earthquake seems to have moved it, but I’m sure I’ll find it in a minute.” A quick mental picture of the lighter fallen into the water and ruined—no.Success came from fixing the mind on a desired scenario and not allowing doubt to creep in.

Jake slowed his breathing and his frantic movements. Ignore pain from falling debris and yesterday’s bruises—nothing is terminal or worth attention. Focus on the task at hand—find the lighter.He drew himself up into a squat, breathing through his nose, keeping his eyes closed, moving his hands to search out from the edge of the trough in a grid pattern.

Remember the structure of the edge . . . there had been a crack in the rock near the lighter.

Perhaps it had slid into the crevice, and that’s why he couldn’t feel it.

Jake oriented himself by locating the edge of the wallow and placing his hands carefully there. He felt, hand over hand, over to the crevice, searching slowly along the seam of rock with the tips of his fingers. He felt a smooth obstruction—the lighter!He used his pinkie fingertip to pry it out of the notch.

“Got it!” His triumphant cry sounded like a cannon in the thick darkness.

Sophie snorted. “Finally.”

Jake heard the rustle of her movements, felt her hand on his knee. He flicked the lighter. It took a couple of tries, but the flame finally caught.

That narrow lick of fire was so bright he was blinded at first, and before his eyes had time to adjust, Sophie had thrust the torch into the flame. The oil flared high with a whoosh.

Chapter Eighteen

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