Page 57 of Reset

Ryan pushed with all his might, propelling them forward. And, just as he was about to give up and try something else, there was a pop as the strap snapped and the bag slid into the darkness below.

Exertion made his lungs burn with a ferocity that was almost unbearable. He’d used too much oxygen. Exerted himself far too much. If he didn’t breathe now, they’d both be in trouble.

Propelled by fury and desperation, Ryan swam forward as best he could. Navigating the way by feel, which slowed them down.

You need to get out now, Callum ordered.

I’m growing weak, Ryan replied, and we can’t speed up, or I’ll swim us straight into the wall.

Aye, and the last thing you need is another head injury, Callum said. You can do this. You were trained to do this. You’re a warrior. A soldier. Don’t let me down. If you do, I’ll kick your backside from here to Scotland.

With Callum’s prosthetics, that would be like getting beaten with a steel pipe.

Nearly there, Ryan told him.

But he knew they weren’t going to make it. His hands were tingling, and there were strange lights flashing before his eyes.

Don’t you dare pass out on me! Callum shouted. You get your arse out of there now and save that girl.

Woman…she doesn’t like being called a girl. He was finding it hard to think now.

His limbs felt heavy and dull. Each movement was like swimming through treacle.

Callum? he called as he felt around in front of them.

There was no reply.

Callum?

Mustering what strength he had left, Ryan kicked off the bottom in order to feel what was above them.

And his hand hit air.

Not rock.

Air.

Propelling them upward, he dragged Sarah onto the rocky bank, going by feel and memory. He sucked in the musty air like it was pure filtered oxygen. Weak, tired, his limbs heavy, all he wanted to do was rest. Sleep. Perhaps forever.

But he couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Kneeling beside Sarah, he felt for a pulse. Nothing. Closing his eyes because he couldn’t see a damn thing anyway, Ryan started CPR. Thankfully, his training kicked in, helping him function on autopilot as his foggy mind fought to stay conscious.

“For drownings, you start with breathing, not compressions,” he muttered.

Five breaths to get started. That’s what they were taught. The air all the more important because Sarah had been without it for too long. He tilted her head, using his fingers to check her mouth was clear of anything she might have taken in while they were underwater. Satisfied her airway was clear, he pinched her nose, and taking a deep breath, he pushed air into her lungs. Five times, deep breaths. Each one making him dizzy.

There was no response.

But he’d pushed some water out of her lungs. He’d felt it dribble down her chin. That was something.

“You’re not going to die here,” he vowed as he felt his way down her sternum to the spot he needed for compressions.

One hundred and twenty to start. One minute’s worth of compressions. His limbs felt heavy, and his coordination was off. He shook his head, hoping to clear it, but the movement only made things worse.

“Get with it!” he snapped at himself.