Chapter Four

The water was bone-chillingly cold. So much so that it sucked what little breath Sam had gotten right out of his lungs. He struggled against the thrashing current, finally finding the floor beneath him enough to push off and get his head above water. But it was only there for a moment before he was forced back under again. And then, out of nowhere, the floor dropped out from underneath Sam. He threw up his hands desperately, searching for anything to grab ahold of. His hand met a hard piece of metal and Sam clamped down on it instinctively. Once his body jerked to a stop, Sam could finally take in the extent of his predicament.

The water had come from the ballistics wing, the C4 obviously set as a trap to flood the complex and drown anyone trapped inside. It made sense. The secret bunker must have been situated next to Lake Frolikha as a means for cooling in the ballistics department. Now the lake was flooding in.

On initial impact, the force of the water had blasted through the half-wall on the edge of the ramp. Sam was lucky not to have taken the full brunt of the crashing wave. Rather, he had been knocked down by the spreading froth and swept up in its residual current.

Sam had slipped over the edge of the hole the water had created and was now grasping onto a piece of rebar that was jutting out through the gap, his body dangling just low enough beneath the waterfall that he could draw breath.

Unfortunately, he didn't have many options. He couldn't fight the torrential flood pounding down on him and the cold was sapping his strength with every second. He would have to let himself fall. But there were only a few inches of water at the bottom, a foot at best. Sam knew he couldn't land on his feet. He only had one good leg and there was no way it could take the full impact. He would have to land flat then. And hope that there was enough water to break his fall.

Sam held on for as long as he could, but the raging current was so strong that it was a mere thirty seconds before Sam's grip failed him and he went plunging into the water below.

He hit the surface hard. As Sam smashed into the now few feet of water, he could feel his broken ribs spear through his side, a scream ripping from his lips. Bubbles whipped past his face and Sam snapped his jaw shut to keep from losing any more precious oxygen.

The blurry world reeled and Sam lost any sense of direction as he was caught up in the vortex eddying at the bottom of the waterfall. There was nothing Sam could do to fight it. The current took him where it pleased and was none too kind to him along the way. He bashed into the ground repeatedly and was buffeted by the contents of the ballistics wing emptying from above. Battered and losing oxygen fast, Sam grappled onto the first thing his hands came into contact with. Once the world stopped spinning, it became apparent that Sam had grabbed onto one of the concrete pillars, was clawing onto it by his fingertips, his body billowing with the current like a flag caught on a high wind.

By now his lungs were burning. He needed to get to the surface.

So Sam started sidling upward, shuffling his hands up the ledge inch by agonizing inch, the water rising in a cruel game of cat and mouse as Sam sought the air above. The water had risen to six feet by the time he was able to break the surface. Sam gasped in a lungful of air, but the water surged over his head almost immediately. With a monumental effort, Sam climbed a few more inches and hauled himself forward as if he were doing a pull-up. His shoulder barked at him, but he leashed in the pain. He would soon drown if he couldn't pull in a proper breath. Straining against the current, Sam kept himself above the water, the roaring from the waterfall deafening a few yards away.

A faint noise caught Sam's attention and he did his best to locate its source, but he couldn't move his head around very much in his current situation. Then he heard the noise again, louder this time, coming from above him. It was the team, calling out to him. Sam swiveled his head around to look and just caught sight of their faces leaning over the wall above him before his grip slipped with the movement and he plunged back beneath the surface, only just managing to hold onto the pillar.

The pain that tore through his body was agonizing. Through sheer power of will, Sam pulled himself up again, the effort ripping at his shoulder and stabbing through his side.

Now that he was listening for it, Sam could make out a voice over the thunderous water.

"Grab my hand!" Ben called, somehow closer this time.

Carefully, Sam turned his head as much as he could and used his peripheral vision to see Ben hanging over the ledge, his arm reaching for Sam. By this time, the water had nearly reached the second level and Sam only had about a foot of pillar left above him to hold onto. Once the water rose above that level, Sam would either have to let go and allow the current to sweep him away or continue to hold on until he drowned. Neither option seemed a pleasant one.

There was shouting above, but Sam couldn't make out what they were saying. Then Hansen turned back to Sam. "You have to reach!"

Sam moved a bit closer to Hansen with the rising water, but his hand was still a good foot and a half away. There were only a few inches of pillar left.

There was nothing for it. It would have to be now.

Sam marshaled his strength.

"C'mon, Sam!"

Silently counting himself down, Sam heaved himself out of the water and lunged for Hansen's hand. For a moment, it looked as though Sam would make it. Then the current took hold of him once more. Sam's fingertips met Hansen's for the briefest moment before he was dragged under into the roiling darkness.

He crashed into a concrete wall, then coursed past it into what must have been one of the four main hallways leading off of the main shaft. It was utterly dark save for the faintest outline of an adjacent hallway up ahead. The sight gave Sam hope. All of the lights had been shorted out on the bottom level which meant that this light had to be coming from the level above. Sam just prayed that whatever hole the light squeezed through was large enough for him to do the same.

Judging the timing, Sam pushed off the opposite wall and sprung toward the second hallway. The current was so strong that it pinned his midriff to the far edge of the adjacent hall, but Sam worked himself forward until he was floating in the mostly still hallway. The current had almost completely dropped off once Sam was out of the main stream, the hallway he was currently occupying being perpendicular to the main thoroughfare.

The light he was seeking was a few feet further in. Sam stroked for it, quickly sizing up whether he could fit. It would be tight, but he figured he could make it, shedding his bulky parka before raising himself to the hole. Frankly, the extra layer was only weighing him down anyway. It wasn't as if it were providing any kind of warmth anymore. He earned a few rips and scrapes on the rebar, but Sam wriggled through the gap and burst to the surface to claim a much needed breath.

Of course, breathing was becoming more and more difficult. The cold was starting to get to Sam. He knew he couldn't stay in the water for much longer without it becoming dangerous.

Get up, he told himself. Keep moving. Think.

Staggering to his feet, Sam tottered back to the main hallway and glanced up it to see if he could get back to the ramp.

He instantly knew he would never make it. He was at least a hundred feet away and with the water rising at the rate it was and Sam being as immobile as he was, he would end up being swept back down the hallway before he even made it halfway.

Sam took a second to find his bearings, form a plan.

Figuring out his relative position, a crazy idea formed in Sam's mind. He knew of at least one other exit to the complex—the shed that they had initially found. And it was bound to have some kind of staircase or elevator leading to it. By his calculation, Sam should be relatively close to such a thing if it continued straight downward from the shed.

Lowering himself into the water, Sam paddled down the hallway. The water was at least good for one thing. There was no way Sam would have been able to walk anywhere, but he was an excellent swimmer. He hated to submerge himself any more than necessary, but he needed to move quickly and hobbling just wouldn't cut it.

Sam cut across one hallway to the next. And the next. And the next. Glancing down each to check for some means of escape. His feet could no longer touch the floor when he finally glimpsed it, a glint of metal against the matte concrete in which it was set.

An elevator.

It was an easy trek to the door. Sam simply let the current take him where he needed to go. Once he was pressed up against the metal door, Sam pried it open, the sudden rush of water threatening to carry him through with it. But Sam held on until the water leveled out and swung into the elevator shaft. He scanned above him and found the way to be clear. The car was below him on the first level. It was a good thing too because had it been above him, he didn't know if there would have been room to squeeze by.

Now Sam just had to wait. He knew he couldn't climb the cables in his condition. He would have to ride the water to the top. Granted, this was easier said than done. The water was churning and frothing as pockets of air bubbled to the surface. And as the seconds ticked by, the icy cold water sapped Sam's strength. His movements were becoming jerky, exaggerated, his fine motor skills evaporating. It only took a few minutes for the water to reach the top floor, but by that time, Sam was finding it difficult just to tread water, an action so familiar to him as a Navy SEAL that he could have done it in his sleep.

He jammed his numb fingers into the crack between the elevator doors and started wedging them apart, fire flaring up in his ribs and shoulder. Once they had separated a few inches, he pressed his foot to one door and grabbed the other with both hands to give himself more leverage, switching from his hands to his back once the doors were open wide enough and leg-pressed them open the rest of the way.

Immediately, Sam was swept into the tiny room and he oriented himself just in time to save himself from crashing face first into the door on the opposite wall. The door had a mechanical lock; a large steel wheel connected to thick bars that bolted into the wall. It reminded Sam of the doors found inside submarines.

He breathed a quick sigh of relief at seeing the lock mechanism as another fear of his came to naught. Had the lock been electronic or biometric instead, there would have been no way for him to open it. His relief was short-lived, however, as he pulled on the wheel and it didn't budge. Not even an inch.

The water was rising incredibly fast in such a small space, the room being no more than fifteen feet square. It was already over his head as he held himself at the door. Sam had seconds before the room would be completely filled.

Even so, Sam was too well-seasoned for panic. Certain death was something Sam had come to grips with long ago. He knew his time would come and it would most likely be out on some mission. But he also knew that panic would only hasten it.

So he calmed his heartbeat, still racing from the adrenaline, and shoved himself to the surface. He emptied and filled his lungs as many times as he could in the last few seconds of air left to him. Then the roiling water reached the ceiling, the sole light overhead winked out, and all went utterly black and silent.

Sam felt his way back to the door and wasted no time putting everything he had into turning the lock. He knew the pressure built up by the water inside the shed was holding the bolts in place. The door hadn't been made to function against such differences in pressure. Nonetheless, he bade his lifeless fingers to grip the cold steel, bit back the pain tearing at his body.

Blood pounded in Sam's ears at the exertion.

It was now or never. He couldn't hold his breath for much longer in water like this.

Grunting silently, he torqued his body to the side and blessedly felt the slightest amount of give in the wheel. He kept at it and the lock gave way all at once with a dull thud, the door blasting open from the pent up pressure. Sam swung out with it, his hands ripping free of the steel wheel where they had frozen to it. The small river carried him out into the night, depositing him on the pristine snow twenty yards from the shed.

He had made it.

He rolled himself out of the water and just lay there for a moment, catching his breath.

And yet Sam knew his ordeal was far from over. The night was clear and frigid. Soaked and freezing as Sam already was, the cold was ambitious, the steady breeze immediately seeping through to his very bones. He may very well have survived drowning only to die of exposure.

The cold constricted his lungs, seized his body. He could barely breathe, barely move.

Some survival instinct barked at Sam to keep moving, to seek shelter. So he heaved himself onto his chest and, at an agonizing crawl, Sam hauled himself inch by inch through the snow. He eventually made his way to the leeward side of the shed, his journey illuminated by the single flickering lamp overlooking the door, water gurgling out of the shed through the snow next to him all the while.

Once Sam reached the shed, he nestled himself against it, crossing his arms, pulling his knees up to his chest, and ducking his head to hopefully retain whatever warmth was left in his breath in the small pocket of air he had created.

There was nothing left that he could do except wait. They had parked the car a few miles away and trekked in on foot. He had barely made it the short distance back to the shed, there was no way he could manage the distance to the car. And there was certainly nowhere else for him to go. His cheap phone was waterlogged and useless so there was no calling for help either. He would just have to hope that Hansen and his team bothered to come looking for him. And that he lasted long enough for them to find more than a frozen corpse.

Sam knew he was in a bad way, knew his body was failing. It had been since he had first hit the water, but he hadn't let himself recognize that fact until now.

There was no denying it any longer.

The ice outside his body was quenching the swelling fire within. And that numbness scared him much more than the pain. Pain he could deal with. Pain meant he was alive. It meant he was still fighting. But the pain ebbed away much like Sam's grasp on lucidity.

Soon enough, he couldn't feel anything at all. Not even the cold. Time stretched into an incomprehensible blur as Sam thinly clung to consciousness, knowing if he slipped under that he wouldn't wake up. But, like trying to hold onto an idea in the moments before sleep, all conscious thought kept slipping away.

His mind and body fading, Sam persisted. Sam endured. But deep down Sam knew the facts.

There was little chance he would survive.