Page 156 of Ironvine

“No idea yet, but I reckon this will be the best place to enter. The other side has taken on much more water from the river.”

“Indeed. I’ll go, sir. You—”

“No. I’m going in.” Charles gripped Joss’s shoulder. “I must. You know I must.”

Joss nodded, his eyes heavy. “Let’s get this door open then.”

The two of them shoved at the door with their sides, splintering and cracking met their efforts. Joss handed Charles the torch, and he pulled out an iron tool from the sack on his back and bashed at the splintered wood. At last, he was able to reach through and grab the interior bolt.

He shoved and shoved. “It be rusted through o’course,” muttered Joss.

“Stand back.” Charles bashed at the door, creating a bigger opening. Joss took another, a small iron tool from his sack and banged at the bolt. Finally, it swung off the old door.

They shoved, and there was movement. The door gave way.

“Georgina! Georgina?” Charles called out in the dank, dark tower, his throat burning. He held the torch high as they descended the small stone steps inside the old tower. Water met them, rushing around their legs, their hips. The very darkness seemed to blanket him, asphyxiate him. He couldn’t breathe.

A hand went to his back.

Charles wiped his arm across his brow. “I have to find her, Joss.”

“We will. Let me ‘ave the torch, you go on.”

He handed Joss the torch, and as the light reached a greater area of the flooded interior, Charles moved around the waters but there was still no sight of her. Although the tower was high, it wasn’t extremely wide. Of course, it had seemed huge to him in the dark as a boy, but it wasn’t like how he’d remembered it.

Joss descended the steps and searched in the opposite direction. “Nothing,” he called out.

Charles made his way toward the narrow arched tunnel that led into the house. He shook off the memories of forcing himself to crawl through it in the dark. His fingers had sunk in the damp earth, his body scraping along rocks and worms and insects.

Now, he pushed through the water filling the tunnel, Joss behind him with the torch. An object floated and bobbed on the water before them, and he lunged at it, a sharp tingle racing up his spine.

Georgie’s satchel. “She’s here somewhere.”

Joss raised the torch, but there was no sign of her. Nothing. He pulled on the bag, but it was stuck.

Fucking hell.

Charles dove underwater, his hands, instruments of vision in the dark cold abyss. The water was deeper here and growing higher. He followed the strap of the bag.

She must be alive. Do not take her from me.He prayed every prayer he had ever and never uttered his entire life.

He reached the door to the house. It was wedged open. The waters rushed and swirled, louder, rising higher against the half-closed door. The strap of the bag was stuck on the iron trim of the door. He broke the surface of the water. Gasping, sputtering, splashing filled his ears from the other side of the door.

“Georgina! Georgina!”

“Charles! I’m stuck—my foot—I can’t…” she yelled out, her breathing heavy.

His heart thudded in his chest at the sound of her voice.Thank God. Thank God.“I’m trying to get this door open.”

He shoved at the door, again and again. Joss came up next to him and shoved with him. It moved slightly under their pressure.

“I can just fit through,” Charles shoved himself through the narrow opening, twisting his body to get through. “I’m coming, Georgie.”

In the dim light of the moon coming through the roofless section of the house, he saw her. Arms paddling on the swirling surface of the floodwaters, her face upwards gulping for air.

Joss grunted, straining to move the door. An inch more and he slid through. He swam to her. His hands went around her waist, her jaw. Her skin was cold. “Are you hurt?”

“Only my foot. It’s stuck between stones and I—”

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