Forbidden by Susan Johnson (good books to read for teens .TXT) 📕

wondered if he'd black out first from the suffocating pain in his lungs or still be alert when he was compelled to draw the breath that would drown him.

With an obstinate determination, he forced himself to contemplate the image of the holy men in central Asia who sat for days without moving, hardly breathing in their meditation of God, willing his mind away from the agony in his lungs, willing his thoughts to a tranquility that would see him face death with a calm serenity.

But beyond his effort to suppress both pain and fear, his final conscious thoughts were irrepressibly of Daisy. She was smiling at him across the dinner table, wearing his oversize nightshirt, her hair tumbled in shining splendor on her shoulders, her lips dusted with sugar. I love you… I'll always love you, he promised.

He could vividly see the love in her eyes… as her image floated closer, nearer… he could almost touch her now…

Drawing his arms away from protecting his head, he reached out to embrace her. The pain in his lungs was agonizing. Unbearable. A lacerating blow tore into his shoulder, overwhelming the torment of his lungs, and then his head violently crashed into the unyielding rock. Death hovered.

And darkness closed over him.

Trey, Lund, and Trewayne fell out of the cage on level six and lay on the ground panting, the first two hundred feet of their ascent an underwater breath-held panic before they rose above the flooded tunnels.

No one spoke for a moment, their lungs still bereft of adequate air, and when Trewayne finally uttered the first gasping words, they reflected everyone's thoughts. "I owe him my life. Poor devil."

"Even if… we could go back… down there," Lund added, his breath expelled in little puffs of phrases, "he'd be… dead… by now."

They all knew, no one would be able to return in any event—not for weeks… even if the water pouring in had definable limits.

Heartsick at the tragedy, at the awful consequences resulting from a few lost seconds, Trey pulled himself to his feet, brushing his wet hair from his face with both hands in a rough, sweeping gesture. Although stricken with anguish, the bitter reality of the continuing peril in Pacific shaft didn't even allow them time to grieve now; the flooding that killedEtienne could be the cause of more lives lost if the water couldn't be stopped in the other shaft. They had to return immediately to give what help they could to the men manning the pumps.

Bloody hell, he thought, oppressed and disheartened, obliged to force his weary legs to move. They'd all understood the risks involved. But, damn. Only a few seconds more and Etienne wouldn't have been swept away. He felt like crying. What could he say to Daisy?

"Sorry, boss," Trewayne quietly said, keeping pace with Trey as he began moving down the tunnel, his gaze on Trey's distrait face, his own feelings even more guilt-racked. "He should have let me go."

"It's not your fault, Billy. None of us knew if we'd make it back. He understood the odds." There was no point in conjecturing or assigning blame. The Duc was dead. If resurrection were a possibility, he'd gladly pay penance and accept the blame for letting him come along. Not that de Vec would have listened to him anyway. He was a man who made his own decisions.

But God above, what was Daisy going to do? Desolation swept over him.

When Trey stepped out of the cage on 2200 level of Pacific shaft, a miner shouted, "The water's stopped! You did it!"

Hazard swiveled around when he heard the shouted greeting, his face lighting up in congratulatory response. But his dark eyes immediately took in the diminished ranks in a quick fleeting count. Had the Duc returned to the surface already was his first hopeful wish. He could have resurfaced through the Alaska shaft. But further observation correctly read the anguish in his son's face and all his elation at saving the mine abruptly disappeared.

Desperately hoping he was wrong, he inquired, "Is Etienne… ?"

Trey shook his head. "The water took him." His gruff voice broke, his pain visible. "Just as we reached the cage."

Hazard had seen his share of death: in the Civil War; on raids in his youth; in the smallpox scourge that had killed his parents and half their tribe; his own young children's deaths were never forgotten. But death always struck one like a blow to the heart.

Brutal and unexpected.

The thin sound of wailing whistles carried only faintly to Clear River Valley, but Daisy was attuned to the signal. When the mine whistles blew in chorus, everyone knew disaster had struck. Or perhaps some sixth sense roused her as the unpropitious warning pierced the air and floated across the morning sky. Aware some catastrophe had occurred, she threw back the covers and was already partially dressed when the phone rang.

How many times before had she answered emergency calls from the mine? But Etienne was at the site today and she steadied her nerves before picking up the receiver.

"The mine's flooding," Blaze said, "with a shift still underground—our men included." With conscious effort Blaze forced her voice to remain calm, without a trace of hysteria or fear.

Calling on an inner strength, Daisy answered with equal composure, but subliminal emotion unrestrained by conscious repression had triggered panic from the moment she'd first heard the siren. "I'm leaving now." She didn't waste time in asking questions; she understood the calamity in flooding.

And her hand was shaking as she set the receiver back in its cradle.

When Daisy arrived at the mine, others drawn by the distress signal were gathered around the base of the skip tower, waiting for news, watching for the cage to surface, fear for their loved ones etched on every face. Mothers with young children clinging to their skirts prayed for their husbands' safety; old men who knew what it was like underground hoped their sons would be on the cage because