The Sea Caves

They burst out of the vent and into the Sea Caves.

The world exploded into noise. The storm was raging directly outside the cave mouth. Waves crashed against the obsidian rocks, sending sprays of freezing foam into the air. The wind howled like a dying animal.

Elian collapsed on the wet sand, his body trembling with exhaustion. He was soaked instantly. The cold bit into his bones.

"Get up," Silas yelled over the wind. "The extraction point is the helipad on the cliff edge. The boat couldn't dock in this weather."

"Helicopter?" Elian shouted back. "You said a boat!"

"Plans change!" Silas grabbed Elian under the arms and hauled him up.

For a moment, Silas supported him. Elian leaned against him, his legs trailing in the sand. He felt the warmth of Silas’s body, the strength of the man who had promised him the world.

"We have to move," Silas said, his voice directly in Elian’s ear. "They know we’re gone."

Behind them, in the tunnel, lights bobbed. The guards.

They moved toward the cave exit. The path to the helipad was a narrow, winding trail up the cliff face, slick with rain.

Elian dragged himself. He clawed at the rocks. His fingernails tore. His pants were shredded. He was reduced to a primal state of survival, fueled only by the sight of Silas ahead of him.

Above them, the rhythmic *thrum-thrum-thrum* of rotor blades cut through the storm.

A sleek black helicopter hovered over the landing pad, banking against the wind.

"There!" Silas pointed.

But the path was blocked.

A rockslide, triggered by the storm, had choked the narrow trail. There was a gap—a small fissure near the top of the pile—but the rest was a wall of jagged boulders.