Patrick peered up at the massive fallen structure. "What's this?"

"It must've been one of the base towers," I said, offering the only possible explanation. The only structures built in this area had been a cluster of military facilities that supported the Refuge Inc. Safeguard Ballistic and Anti-Ballistic Program, which had detected incoming aerial threats. Even though the structures were built to withstand most threats and to last for many years, the near complete destruction of this one was proof that an underground spherical design would hold up to more wear and tear and the multitude of earthquakes after impact than tons of concrete and steel on the surface.

Patrick turned to me, curiosity lighting his eyes. "Want to investigate the debris?"

"It might prove difficult with my injuries. But before we discuss investigating, I need help out of this suit." I tugged at the fabric again.

"You sure?" The look in his eyes was all that I needed to know he meant there was no turning back. Even though a part of me was at peace with the idea of death, my faith in Patrick's skills and the amount of care I had for him was high. The precautions I took from now on were mainly for his peace of mind.

"Absolutely, I'm sure." I'd probably rip the suit off with my bare hands if I had to stay inside it for another ten minutes. The intense heat was more than unbearable.

"Remove your gloves, first." He assisted me by pulling each finger until the glove slid off into his hands. "Before you remove the helmet, we need to attach the contraption to the hose of the internal visor. That means you'll have to hold your breath until I get it on properly. Then you'll expel oxygen from the internal visor through your face mask before taking a breath."

"Okay." I paused as he removed the device from his pack. "How long will I have to hold my breath?"

"At the least, thirty seconds."

I nodded. "And at the most?"

His eyes cut up and to the left as he calculated in his head. "Ninety, but that's the maximum."

I exhaled, suddenly unsure about the chance of success. I debated whether or not to admit not being able to hold my breath that long. "Ninety seconds? What if I can't—"

"You can, Damien." He reached out, sliding his palm into mine. He squeezed my hand, giving it two gentle pumps, and taking me by surprise as electric warmth tingled the spots where he touched. Our gazes met, and the care in his eyes struck me. "You can do this."

His assurance calmed my racing heart as his hand and attention returned to the makeshift filter. After all the time it had taken to help him halve and properly shape the two soda cans containing layers of thick, sterile gauze and fine charcoal inside—that we had found among the debris and pulverized after activating it with the calcium chloride we had stored in our packs for performing surface studies—I owed it to him to prove my trust in his knowledge and abilities. "Tell me what to do."

"Okay." He nodded. The intensity in his stare showed the seriousness of the matter. "Take off all the outerwear but the helmet."

I ignored the pain in my back and complied, removing my pack, the arm assembly, the boots, and the lower torso assembly, revealing the casual clothing I wore underneath while leaving the upper torso and helmet in place. Cool air surrounded my body, but my nerves wouldn't allow me to take in the sensation. "Okay, what's next?"

"I'm going to clamp and cut the exhaust hose and attach the filter. You're going to quickly remove the upper torso assembly while holding your breath. Before you take a breath, you'll allow the oxygen to puff out of your face mask, flushing any ambient air that might've seeped in. Copy?"

"I copy." I dismissed the nerves threatening to take over my poise.

"Okay." He moved around to my back. Instantly, his presence comforted me. "I'm ready when you are."

"Holding my breath..." I inhaled until my lungs expanded in my chest. "Now." Keeping the oxygen in my lungs, I rushed to remove the rest of the suit. Working in unison, we slipped the hose through parts of the assembly until it was free. Patrick helped me lift my helmet, pull the hose through, and reconnect my earphones.

"Allow the oxygen to escape the mask," Patrick whispered in my ear.

A quick burst of oxygen blew from my mask, pushing the hair from my temples. Just as the pressure changed, the suction immediately returned, holding the mask to my face. I exhaled and inhaled with control, briefly avoiding the thought of microscopic toxins eating each cell of my body.

Patrick appeared before me. He held my head between his hands and pressed the front of his helmet to my forehead. "Well?"

I searched his face, debating what to say to satisfy him. The proximity of his body was strangely reassuring. "That was easier than I thought it would be. Too easy."

"Not everything has to be so dramatic." He nudged my elbow as he backed away. "How does it..." he paused and narrowed his eyes. Was he searching for the proper word or phrase? "How does it smell?" He waited.

"Not like licorice or anise."

"Good." His eyes softened. "Good. It's working." A short snort escaped him. "Didn't I say you could do it?"

"I never doubted you." Relieved, I chuckled. "I was nervous as all hell, but..."

He laughed and I smiled.

The cool breeze enveloped me and finally, I took it in. My skin tingled as the sweat and heat evaporated from my body, the first feeling of pleasure outside the facility, something I never knew was possible again.

"You all right?" Patrick eyed me.

I nodded. "Better."

"And your injury?" He moved so close my sensitized skin picked up on his energy. The warmth of his presence was undeniable, causing my heart to race and my breaths to quicken.

"Here." I placed my hand on my right side toward my back.

"Let me take a look."

He disappeared behind me, leaving me to anticipate his touch. A strong shudder tore through my body while his fingers glided up my spine as he lifted my shirt.

"Sorry." His low voice was soothing in my earpiece "Didn't mean to hurt you."

Pain was the last thing on my mind, especially when his fingertips grazed my skin and inched down my spine to my lower back. What was this feeling? I couldn't identify the emotion I felt at his touch. Was it contentment, pleasure, or some odd mixture of the two?

His fingers disappeared from my skin and I immediately missed his touch.

"Looks like a bruise. You must've landed on that spot pretty good."

"Must've." I couldn't properly form sentences. My emotions jumbled them in my mind before they reached my lips. The last time I'd experienced anything similar was seven years ago. No other person but Em had ever touched me with such gentle, caring caresses. Since the tragedy, I never allowed another's touch to influence my mind and body in this way.

When he moved to face me again, I couldn't meet his gaze.

"How's your thirst?"

"Bearable."

Awkward silence stilled the air. "Are you sure you're okay?" He rested his hand on my shoulder. This time the heat from his palm traveled up the slope of my neck and I held back the pleasant shudder. "Avoiding eye contact, one-word answers ... Something's off."

"I'm fine, Patrick." I stepped away, making room between us. "I don't think investigating that building is safe. We shouldn't risk it. Our next move should be ..." My mind drew a blank. I'd only changed the subject to shield my embarrassment. Even though sitting in a corner until I crumbled to dust seemed like the only plausible option, it wouldn't be acceptable.

"We should check the hatch." He threw his hand up before I could protest. "I know what you think, but we have to give it a try. What more can we lose?"

Time. Energy. Sanity, for riding the wave of hope and disappointment.

I waved him off. "You go up and have a look at the hatch. I'll stay here and search around for anything significant. Your monitor works and you're still protected by your suit, which means you'll have a better chance of staying safe and finding your way back."

"You won't find anything without a light." A hint of worry traveled in his tone.

"But you will." I waved my hand, dismissing his concerns for me. Telling him he was wasting his time wasn't enough. He needed to come to that conclusion on his own. "I'll be fine."

He waited. "You sure?"

Would he be more concerned if he knew the odd sensations I had experienced when he touched me? Would that confession cause him to stay or fight more desperately to get back home?

I nodded. Although my expectations were low, his optimism was infectious. Truth be told, curiosity filled my veins. "I'm sure."

"Okay." He continued in the direction of the collapsed building with me on his heels. "I can climb out over here."

As we approached the building, its haunting shadows and treacherous jagged edges set off red flags, but no other way out was available. The looming steel produced an angelic hum that grew and tapered off at random times as the wind whipped through the exposed infrastructure. For a moment, I imagined the harmony of the wind and the jingle of my brass bells flooding the trench with a symphony of poignant sounds. I bit my bottom lip to keep it from quivering from the ache in my heart.

"This part looks sturdy, huh?" Patrick tugged a portion of the framework shaped in such a way it could double as a ladder. When it didn't budge, he began his ascent. "Let's keep communication open the entire time, all right?"

"What's the ETA on your return?"

"No more than twenty minutes. I just need to get close enough to see the lid to the hatch. Then I'll come back for you."

I held the frame to act as an anchor just in case his weight dislodged it. However, what he said about coming back for me fascinated me. "What happened to ignoring me and getting your samples so you can get back home?"

He snorted. "That was before completing our mission." With one foot over the other, he hoisted himself up the twisted metal frame toward the angled lip of the trench. My hand went up to block the steady stream of sand that cascaded down from where he was. Soon, he and the only light disappeared into the darkness.

I cleared my throat. "How does it look? Give me some readings."

"Uh," he paused, possibly gauging his surroundings. "Uh, visibility is at zero. Haven't encountered any gusts though. I'm gonna head toward the southeast until I find the hatch."

"Copy."

"I'm tracking my location so I can find my way back."

"I don't recommend entering the trench the way we first arrived."

"Roger that." His light laugher sent a smile to my lips.

Surrounded by utter darkness again, I kept my back to the wall and closed my eyes. The humming of the wind through the building kept my mind off dire scenarios during radio silence. However, thoughts of my family slipped in. Memories of Em carrying Connor for nine months in her belly, and like the superwoman she was, delivering my beautiful, healthy baby boy. I'd never forget that day, the moment I fell deeper in love than I knew was possible. My heart had never been as full as it was then.

Heavy breathing took me out of my reverie. "Thought we were gonna leave communication open. You've gone silent."

I cleared my throat. "How is it looking?"

"It's not looking; that's the problem." He huffed. "I can't see anything."

He wouldn't be anywhere near the hatch yet. Only a few minutes had passed, and debris and steep slope would slow him down. The amount of tumbling I did suggested a one hundred foot or more trek back. "Keep going. You're bound to see something soon."

Patrick added, "Have you ever thought that maybe our radio communication with Control got screwed and none of this is intentional? I mean, after Randolph escorted us past the first door, maybe they lost communication with us then and didn't want to take a risk so they closed the hatch to protect the facility."

Not wanting to taint his optimism, since that was the only thing keeping us going, I nodded. "Sure. That's a possibility."

"Right." More heavy breaths came through the headset. "Because they haven't answered us since the first door closed, you know? Don't you think that's weird?"

"It is." We had done a test run to prevent such tragedies. What Patrick refused to acknowledge was the many safeguards set in place to remedy any preconceived problem, including loss of communication. If they had trouble hearing us after closing the first door, why would they allow us access through the others?

And why place us inside defective suits with little supplies or gear? Sure our mission would've only taken a few hours, but we should've had extra oxygen tanks and backup battery packs. Most people in the facility would take the leaders' advice and explanations at face value, but even though I had questioned every decision in my mind, in the end I had just wanted a peaceful departure. No matter what I did or said, I would be meeting the same fate.

"Goddamnit." Patrick grunted.

I winced at the pain in his voice. "What is it?"

"This can't be happening."

"What is it, Patrick?" I opened my eyes to darkness and waited for a response as sand speckled down atop my shoulders.

"It's the hatch." He groaned and the anger in his voice intensified. "It's still fucking closed."

A frustrated huff escaped my lips, not from the revealing proof of what I'd already known, but because I was once again in the company of a pessimistic partner. His grief and anger made it much more difficult to accept my doom. He'd want to fight to the end.

"Fuck you, Control." Patrick's furious voice rattled in my ears. "You hear that, don't you? Fuck. You!"

"Cursing won't do any good."

"Screw this place," he went on. "Screw this mission. Screw you all."

The intensity of his anger made the hairs on my arms stand on end. Then his rants ceased, and silence replaced his voice. What went through his mind and what he decided to do with his rage was left to the unknown. And because of that, every single second that ticked by increased my anxiety tenfold.

"Patrick?" I tried, but he didn't answer. "I know you can hear me."

His refusal to speak cut deep, and my anxiety turned to worry. "Come back, Patrick. You left me here in pitch black. You're my only light. Don't do this." My attempt to change the subject most likely wouldn't work, but it couldn't hurt to try.

It was silent except for a few broken breaths on his end.

"Can you please come back?"

More silence.

Lost and alone, I realized how much I needed his reassuring presence.

~~~

What are your thoughts on Patrick's radio silence? What about the silence from the Refuge facility?