He took her arm and worked to guide her and Vinnie toward the swimming pool. But he managed only one step before the relentless current pushed them back against the metal tank.
Cold. So cold.
Balenger's hands felt stiff.
The water rose to his sternum.
Finally found her. Can't let her die. Damn it, how do we get out? If that bastard hadn't welded the door shut…
Letting the current pull him from the tank, he waded toward the door. The welds, he thought. Maybe they're not strong. Maybe I can use the crowbar to break them.
With all this water pushing against the door? Tons of it? Even if the door wasn't welded shut, I could never get it open.
Welds. Something jogged his memory. Something important that he couldn't quite identify. Something…
Balenger remembered that when Ronnie appeared on the surveillance monitor, when he motioned toward the pipe he'd welded across the door, there was a welder's tank to the left of the door. Now Balenger waded in that direction. Praying that Ronnie hadn't moved the tank, he groped in the water but couldn't find it. He groped lower, his awkward fingers brushing curved metal.
He almost shouted with hope as he straightened, but there was a lot he had to do before hope was justified. The water was almost above the pipe across the door. There was a gap behind the pipe. He pulled the crowbar from his knapsack and jammed the sharp end into the gap. He braced the crowbar vertically, its hook at the top of the door.
Again, he groped in the water. Groaning from the weight, he lifted the tank and used its straps to attach it to the crowbar, suspending it above the water. He took the plastic explosive from the knapsack and wedged it between the tank and the door. He yanked the roll of duct tape from his knapsack and secured the tank's rod so the nozzle was pointed at the middle of the tank. Next, he taped the lever on the rod's handle in the open position. Gas escaped. When he clicked the tank's igniter, the torch flamed, burning into the tank.
The water pushed at him as he fought to return to Amanda and Vinnie. He was reminded of nightmares in which he struggled to hurry somewhere but his legs were trapped. Seeing the reflection of the torch behind him, he pressed his shoes against the floor and urged his legs forward through the deepening water. Breathing furiously, he rounded the storage tank. The force of the water pressed Amanda and Vinnie against it.
"Close your eyes! Cover your ears!" he shouted.
Amanda didn't hesitate.
"Vinnie, can you hear me? Close your eyes! Cover your ears!"
Stupefied by his pain, the morphine, and the cold, Vinnie pressed his hands against his ears.
Balenger did the same. The water was at his chest. The torch, he thought. How long will it take to burn into the tank? One, two, three, four. It should have exploded by now. Seven, eight, nine. Did the tank fall into the water? Did the water rise high enough to put out the torch? Thirteen, fourteen.
The world became loud and bright. Even with his eyes closed and his hands over his ears, Balenger felt deafened and blinded. A force lifted him at the same time it seemed to suck the life from him. Weightless, he couldn't breathe. He dropped, pressure squeezing him. Up and down, right and left, these suddenly no longer had meaning. As chaos propelled him, he struck something, gasped, inhaled water, and continued speeding forward.
I'm in the tunnel, he realized. The door blew open. The water's flooding into… The chaos spun and tossed him. Banging against a wall, he inhaled more water and found that his face was above the surface. The green-tinted roof of the tunnel sped over him. Rats surrounded him. Two were on his chest.
He saw a swiftly approaching corner. His shoes rammed into it. The flood twisted him, propelling him down the continuation of the tunnel. Underwater again, he banged against a wall and strained not to breathe. At once, the feeling of weightlessness returned. He arced into a wide space, arms flying.
An impact jolted him. He rolled, stopping on his back, and struggled to clear his lungs as water sprayed behind him. Rats scrambled over him.
Boards. Somehow boards were above him. He lay on wet sand. A broken, rusted grate was next to him.
My God, he realized, the force of the water rammed the screen off a drain tunnel. It threw me onto the beach. I'm under the boardwalk.
62
Clang.
Clang.
The wind carried the noise of the sheet metal flapping in the abandoned condominium. Balenger recalled the unease he'd felt when he heard it tolling seven hours earlier.
Clang.
Rain came through cracks in the boardwalk, falling on his face. He groped for his gun, which remained in his holster. But the darkness was no longer green. His night-vision goggles had been torn away, and yet he could see a little. Lightning. The flames in the upper stories of the hotel. Balenger forced himself to sit up. Diane. Vinnie. He searched among the debris. More rats scurried away. The five-legged cat lay motionless, its neck at an unnatural angle. A shape was sprawled near water spewing from the tunnel. Balenger dug his hands and knees into the sand, crawling toward it, only to stop in horror when he realized it was a mummified corpse. Again, something in his mind seemed to tilt, like ball bearings shifting weight.
To his left, he saw two other sprawled shapes. One of them was blonde. Fearful that this too was a corpse, he approached.
The shape moved. He increased speed, reaching it, turning it.
"Diane."
"No," the shape whispered.
Next to her, Vinnie lay unmoving. Balenger checked his mouth to make sure nothing blocked it. He turned him onto his stomach, pressing his back, trying to push water from his lungs.
Vinnie coughed, expelling fluid. Balenger kept pressing.
"Diane, we can't stay," Balenger said.
"But I'm not-"
"Ronnie will come. We need to get out of here." Balenger tugged Vinnie to his feet. "Help me, Diane."
As lightning flashed, she and Balenger held Vinnie between them. They did their best to hurry, but Vinnie's shoes kept dragging in the sand. Balenger stumbled and dropped to one knee. He gathered the strength to stand. Ten steps later, all three of them fell, exhausted.
Balenger looked around. "Ronnie'll soon be here. Need to hide. We need to… That trough in the sand ahead. Diane, do you see it?"
No response.
Rain poured through holes in the boardwalk.
"Help me drag Vinnie," Balenger said.
With the last of their energy, they pulled him into the trough.
"Lie down next to him," Balenger said.
"But-"
"I'll cover you. The beach'll seem flat. Maybe he won't see you."
"Our tracks."
"The rain's washing sand into them, hiding them."
"What about you?"
"I'll make him follow me in a different direction. Diane…"
"I'm not Diane."
"I love you."
"I wish I were Diane." She kissed his cheek.
He made her lie in the trough, then covered her and Vinnie with sand, just enough to hide them, a fake grave to prevent a real one.
He left their faces exposed.
"Cold," she said.
"I'll lead him away. Count to three hundred," Balenger said. "Then try to find help. If it isn't safe for you to crawl out by then, I failed, and it'll never be safe."
"Diane was lucky to have you."
"Was? I don't understand. You've still got me."
He turned, somehow mustering the resolve to go back the way he had come-toward the drain tunnel. The debris. The rats. The mummified bodies. The rain was indeed shifting sand into the footprints. He summoned all his will and stepped onto the beach, walking toward the violent waves. Lightning cracked, but he no longer flinched.
63
A few yards from the surf, he turned and faced the boardwalk. Beyond it, flames burst from the Paragon's upper stories. The fire and the storm struggled with each other. In this deserted area, at this late hour, with the storm hiding the fire from the rest of the city, it would take time for firefighters and police to be alerted and arrive. Balenger couldn't depend on anyone for help.