Page 80 of Zalis
“Is it an earthquake?”
“This region has little seismic activity, but it is always a possibility.”
Another rumble, this one louder. Closer.
“That’s not an earthquake,” she said. No. It was something else entirely. Something familiar. “It sounds like we’re being bombed.”
“Agreed. We should remain?—”
Before he could finish, an explosion rocked the tunnel. She heard the distinct crack and groan of stone, followed by a trickle of dirt. The tunnel was collapsing.
Zalis flung himself over Gemma, covering her smaller body with his bulk. The ground shook again and the air shifted, carrying the scent of smoke. Rock fell, starting in a slow trickle andthen increasing until the sound of stone on stone drove out all thoughts. It was too loud for anything but her pounding heart.
The explosions, the smell of smoke, and the flickering lights took her back nearly twenty years to huddling in the basement during a raid. She had been small and helpless then, her and Emry on either side of their mother, and she felt just as small and helpless now.
She counted the time between explosions, starting over at zero with each new blast. After a lifetime, the numbers increased, and the shaking ceased. Dust covered her—in her mouth, in her nose, and possibly her ears.
Zalis rolled off her. He spoke but she couldn’t hear him over the ringing in her ears.
She sat up and coughed. The overhead lights were out, leaving them in darkness.
“Are you injured?” he asked.
She shook her head, then nodded, and shook it again. She pressed a hand to her chest. “I don’t know. I can’t catch my breath. I can’t breathe.”
He set a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe in with me.” He took a deep breath. “Count with me. In, three, two, one. Out, three, two, one.”
She followed his example. Her shallow breaths grew deeper. The tightness in her chest eased but it did not leave. Not entirely.
“Your physical reactions are the same as when you have a nightmare,” he observed.
“You’re telling me this isn’t a nightmare?” Her voice quivered.
“Light will help.”
There was the rustle of movement, of a bag being unzipped, and a snap. Zalis held a glowing stick, it cast a ghastly glow over his face, highlighting sharp angles and making his horns positively demonic. The light really didn’t help.
“Thanks. What about—” She flinched at the sound of another explosion, this one sounding closer. “They’re coming back.”
Zalis cocked his head, as if listening. “I believe that is the sound of a fuel tank exploding.”
Fantastic. Random things catching fire.
He poked at his comm unit again. “Communications are down.”
“Not feeling super positive about things right now.”
“Stay here. I will assess the damage.” He handed her the glowstick as he took another from the pack.
With a crack, the glowstick came to life. He held it aloft, examining the damage. The pale green light illuminated the ceiling. Dirt drifted down from cracks, but it held.
“The walls are solid. I will check the integrity of the tunnel,” he said.
“Umm, sure. Good plan.” Gemma watched as Zalis and the light diminished until there was nothing more than a glow on the walls, then gone altogether.
She hated the plan. The plan blew. The longer she sat in the dark with nothing but a glowstick and the ruined remains of the picnic, the harder it was to breathe. The glowstick would die soon and she’d be left alone in the dark.
The sound of falling rock made her jump and turn around.
