After I Refused to Save My Ex-Wife’s Brother, She Went Crazy Chapter 01

After I Refused to Save My Ex-Wife’s Brother, She Went Crazy Chapter 01

Eight years ago, my daughter got trapped in the Crimson Dunes.

Her GPS went dead. Supplies ran out. She called “Dad” into the radio for hours.

The only rescue team was an hour away when they got rerouted.

I found out later it was my wife, Claire Rhodes, who paid off dispatch to change the flight path. Eighty thousand dollars. To save her brother.

Her brother had gotten drunk and wandered off outside a resort hotel at the edge of the desert. They found him less than two miles from the lobby.

My daughter waited. Dehydrated. Died. The rescue never came.

I quit my job. I went into that desert alone and stayed for eight years. I became a guide. I saved over a hundred lives.

Every dune, every hidden sinkhole, every patch of quicksand was burned into my skull.

Today, my partner dropped an outrageously expensive rescue contract on my desk and told me to pack my gear.

I glanced at the photo. A familiar face.

I switched off the radio, stood up, and walked out.

“I can’t save this man.”

“Cole, have you lost your mind?”

Vince Sharp caught up from behind and grabbed my arm.

I shook him off and pushed through the tent flap.

He came around in front of me, palms flat against my chest, blocking my way.

“A million. Did you hear me? A million.”

“I heard you.”

“Then why are you walking away? Be honest with yourself. Is your life worth that much?”

“I said I can’t save him.”

He stared at me for a few seconds, disbelief all over his face.

“You’ve been living on survival rations in this desert for eight years. You can’t even cover next month’s fuel, and you’re turning down a million?”

I looked at him, stepped around, and kept going.

He followed.

“Cole, forget what you owe me and look at yourself. The guys are living in trailers that leak sand, your truck’s transmission is shot, and last month you had to borrow three hundred bucks from me for painkillers. Fine, maybe you don’t care about yourself, but what about the rest of us? A million is sitting right in front of you, and you’re still saying no?”

“Enough.”

“No, not enough!”

His voice dropped low.

“Your ex-wife left. Your daughter is gone. Your parents don’t talk to you. Your friends are all gone. You’ve been holed up in this desert like a goddamn camel. A million could buy you a fresh start. Why won’t you take it?”

I stopped.

“You just said everything you had no right to say, and everything I needed to hear.”

“Then I’ll keep saying it!”

He stepped closer and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Cole, you’re not that kind of man. Three years ago, a sandstorm hit—visibility less than two feet. A family of three was pinned under a crushed SUV. Everyone said it was hopeless. You dug with your bare hands for four hours and pulled them out. That little girl clung to your back and called you Dad. You cried harder than she did.”

I didn’t answer. I remembered.

She was severely dehydrated, barely conscious, trembling on my back.

When she called me Dad, my vision went blurry.

She reminded me of my own daughter.

If I had been able to save her back then, she might have been just like that.

“You’re not someone who turns away a life. So tell me the real reason. Give it to me straight.”

I looked out into the desert.

The sandline on the horizon pushed forward like a brown wall.

“You saw the photo?”

“Yeah. Leo Rhodes. Thirty-five. Went missing near an abandoned survey station in the deep basin. Satellite signal lost over twenty-four hours.”

“Do you know who he is?”

Vince blinked.

“The client’s brother. So what?”

I didn’t answer.

The wind picked up. Sand grains clattered against the metal trailer.

I’d heard that sound for eight years.

Every night, I dream the same dream.

A dry salt flat. Sun so brutal it cracks stone.

Stella is crouched there. Her lips crusted with blood. Her skin peeling.

She looks up at me, eyes too dry for tears, and with her last breath she calls out.

“Dad, I’m so thirsty.”

“Where are you?”

Every time I reach for her, my fingers pass right through.

She dissolves like sand in the wind.

Vince was still waiting.

I turned to him.

“Find someone else.”

“There is no one else. You know that. In this weather, only you can go in and come out alive.”

“Then let him figure it out.”

“He’s been missing for twenty-four hours. Give it another day and he’ll be a dried-out body.”

I stared at him.

“Vince, how long have you been with me?”

“Six years and four months.”

“In six years and four months, how many jobs have I turned down?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it.

Zero.

I’d gone in during storms. I’d crossed the deep basin. I’d walked on ground hot enough to fry an egg.

I’d never refused a single rescue.

“So you know—if I say I can’t do it, I have my reasons.”

Vince stood frozen. The wind tossed his hair.

He didn’t ask again.

But I knew he didn’t get it.

“Go charge your sat phone. There’s a big storm tonight. Stay inside.”

He grabbed me one last time.

“The client’s still on the line. You really won’t take it?”

“Tell her to find someone else.”