Derek

After the fourth lap, I force myself to stop running. Instead, I do wall push-ups and then lunges around the track.

Running burns off my nervous energy, but too much is bad for me. It makes me leaner, and if we get out of here soon, I don’t want to require conditioning before I rejoin my team. A set of weights down here would be life-changing. I don’t have a single one, though, so I have to rely on body-weight exercises.

If my dad has a funeral for me, I wonder if my mom will come. I kind of hope so. I hope she’ll stand there and mourn the piece of shit mother she was to me.

After she left when I was five, she and her new husband had three kids. I never heard a word from her until my NFL contract was announced. And I sure as hell didn’t respond to her too little, too late card of congratulations.

Different things drive me to succeed. I’ve had nothing but time to evaluate stuff like that down here. My perspective is changing, especially as I see Matias getting worse by the day.

We’ve been down here more than two weeks, and he’s weaker now than he was last week. He rests a lot. Never complains. When he has the energy, he’s using the end of a drill bit from his tools to engrave all our names on a big square of scrap wood.

He’s in a dire situation. What I read in the medical book made me realize just how serious it is. I didn’t share what I learned with anyone but Erin. Without dialysis, Matias doesn’t have long to live.

Kenna was bitching at dinner last night about the beauty pageant she’s supposed to be prepping for. Apparently, she’s an aspiring model. I get now why she wanted to be my assistant—exposure.

As I listened to her, I was thinking about what a Grade A asshole she is. Matias is gravely ill and still looking for the bright side of things, and she’s moaning and groaning about a fucking beauty pageant.

I cringed inside, because it sounded a lot like me stressing about missing the football season. Matias would give anything for his biggest worry to be that he’s a multimillionaire missing out on setting an NFL record.

I finish another lap of lunges and then head inside for a quick shower. It’s early afternoon, and Erin’s been sitting in the bunk room with Matias since eight this morning. She got him to eat a couple bites of oatmeal, and she’s reading him a Jack London book.

After my shower, I have to put my sweaty clothes back on. I grab a small cup from the kitchen and add about two tablespoons of water to it.

When I walk into the bunk room, Erin is laughing. Her laugh always makes me smile. It’s full-throated, melodic, and completely genuine.

“Something’s funny,” I say, grinning as I pass Matias the cup.

He sits up and swallows the contents in one gulp.

“I’m so thirsty,” he admits.

“Matias was just telling me you confessed to him about your penis size,” Erin says, giving me an amused smile.

Matias’s eyes bulge in confusion. “What?”

“It’s okay, man.” I wave a hand, playing along. “I did tell him thirteen inches makes me feel different from other guys in the locker room.”

Erin laughs louder at that. “Thirteen inches, huh?”

I wink at her. “When I’m not excited.”

Matias sits on the edge of the bed, looking between us. “You two keep me on my toes.”

“We try,” I say. “You want some lunch before our walk?”

“Nah, I’m okay.”

I look over at Erin and say, “Take a break.”

“I can stay.”

“I know. But take a break. Maybe a nap.”

She and Matias both stand at the same time. Matias looks unsteady on his feet. I reach an arm out for him to grab if he needs it.

“You okay?” I ask him.

“I think.”

“We don’t want you falling. Don’t be too proud to hang on to me if you need to, okay?”

He nods and takes a tentative step.

“Damn, my muscles are, like, gone,” he says.

“You’ll bounce back. One step at a time.”

Erin puts a palm on my back as she leaves the room, and I feel a charge of arousal run all the way down my spine. She meant it as a way of saying thanks, I know, but all my body can process is that her hand was on me.

Holy shit. Am I just deprived of female contact, or do I really have a thing for Erin?

“It’s like a hospital patient and nurse,” Matias cracks as he shuffles toward the door.

I drag my gaze away from Erin’s ass in those jean shorts and smile at him.

“Just don’t ask me to give you a sponge bath,” I say.

We slowly make our way to the track, my arms out and ready to catch Matias if he falls. The swelling has gone down some since we started rationing his water intake. The flip side is that he has less energy, though.

“I hope I get to see my parents again,” Matias says softly as we round the first curve in the track.

“What are they like?”

He smiles, and his brown eyes light up. “My mom’s a great cook. She worries about us kids a lot, and she’s proud of every single thing we do, you know? My dad’s a farmhand. He’s the hardest worker I’ve ever known. Kinda quiet, but there when I need him.”

“They sound like good parents.”

“Yeah, they are. They must feel so helpless.” He sighs heavily, then slows down a little. “They’re undocumented. So they can’t even go to the cops about me being missing, because…”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

“I wanted them to see me graduate from college so bad. Just knowing I was going made them so proud.”

He stops and looks down at the ground.

“You okay?”

He shakes his head, then brings a hand to his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says, crying.

“Hey, no.” I put my arms around him in a hug. “Don’t be sorry. I get it. I’m close to my dad too, and… I get it, man.”

He pulls back and exhales deeply. “I’m okay,” he says, wiping his thumbs across his cheeks. “Let’s keep going.”

“Hey, I wanted to ask you—is it okay if I use some of your tools?”

“Have at it, man. None of ’em are mine anyway. They all belong to Courson Builders.”

“Okay.”

“Bet my Dolphins are gonna win it all this season,” he says brightly.

“You never know, man. I never thought I’d be trapped in a bunker, but here we are, right?”

“At least we’ve got books. And TV.”

I shake my head. “I think Bryce is close to watching every movie down here already.”

“Dude loves his movies. I know he’d prefer ESPN if I had cable down here.”

“What’s the one thing you’d eat if you could get out of here and have anything you wanted?” I ask him.

“Oh, man…” He looks up at the ceiling, considering. “It’s a tie between steak and ice cream.”

“I’d give my left nut for a smoothie made with a bunch of fresh fruit and ice cubes.”

We’re almost back to the door when Matias looks at me and says, “I know this is weird, but one good thing to come out of this is getting to kinda know you.”

“I feel the same way,” I say, meaning it. “You’ve impacted me more than you know.”

He smiles broadly. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Does that mean you’ll give me a sponge bath?”

“Fuck no.” I open the door. “But you get more water in an hour. Let’s get you back to bed.”

He grins and shuffles through the door. And I’m once again seized with a desperate, helpless feeling. Life’s not fair, but death? That’s even more unfair. Matias has his whole life in front of him.

I’ve got more than a hundred million bucks in the bank—more than enough to save him, but down here, money’s worthless. If help doesn’t come soon… I can’t even think about it.

I won’t sit back and wait for the help any longer. I can’t. If there’s a way—any way—out of this bunker, I have to find it. Matias’s life is depending on it.