Page 66 of Deacon

Drifting in and out of consciousness, I had no idea how many hours or days had passed as I fought the blackness, trying to stay as still as possible.

Movement and the sound of someone slipping into the tent caught my attention, and I cracked my eyes open.

‘Drink this, Ana,’ Yael muttered, pressing a tin cup of warm broth to my dry, chapped lips.

Fine gray volcanic ash dusted her hair, worry and exhaustion dampening her vivacious energy.

‘Baz is outside keeping watch; the rescue team is on their way.’

I gave a weak nod, sipping the liquid which slaked my parched throat.

I was so grateful my crew managed to drag my ass down that ridge and into the waiting helo before visibility failed.

It had been a back-breaking slog for Baz and Salim.

The brutal fall had also wrenched my lumbar and midriff muscles, which now meant that as the savory liquid hit my tummy, I convulsed in torment.

I gasped. ‘How much longer?’

‘Not long now,’ Yael replied. ‘Baz says the medevac is already in the air.’

Through the plastic window in the canvas flap, the sky was a putrid, apocalyptic ochre, a sulfur haze trapping the heat of the valley.

Doubt clawed at my gut.

Would they get through the pea soup of ash out there?

Yael spooned a few bites of mashed papaya into my mouth, along with two more Paracetamol.

I sank back into a fitful daze, the minutes stretching into an agonizing blur.

A deep, rhythmic thrumming reverberated through me, jerking me awake, rattling the metal legs of my cot.

The sound grew into a roaring, dual-rotor thud; the propeller wind fluttered the canvas above my head.

‘Ana! It’s a helo!’ Baz yelled from the clearing, his boots pounding the dirt as he raced into the smoky dust.

The roar subsided into a deafening whine, the rotor wash flinging loose gravel against the tent walls.

I caught the sounds of voices, people milling about, then footsteps headed to the pavilion.

I strained my neck, my eyes watering as the front flap jerked open.

A man strode toward me, his physique materializing through the swirling gray haze into a familiar silhouette.

I jolted, my breath hitching.

‘D?’

Was I hallucinating?

Was he here? How?

He wore faded desert fatigues with sleeves rolled past his inked, corded forearms.

He moved with untamed energy, prowling toward me urgently.

I managed to part my chapped lips to let out a hoarse croak.