Page 136 of Until the End

Castle hustled to the raft, lowered Kit in as gently as possible, and hopped in.

Releasing the rope, he pulled the cord on the motor. The answering rumble filled him with renewed hope. He could not, he would not, let her die.

A quick glance at the countdown. Thirty seconds. He felt a double tap from his heart.

He twisted the throttle, and they zipped away from the larger vessel. His mind whirled, trying to figure out what type of explosives Sanborn might’ve used, how big the blast radius would be. Something that would burn hot initially but fairly clean so as not to leave a trace.

Oh, to hell with it. The farther away the better.

He pushed the engine as hard as it would go. They had to get to shore, where he could get Kit medical help.

The cruiser burst into flames. Fire and splintered wood spat into the sky.

Castle grabbed the strap on the side of the skiff, hunching over Kit to protect her.

The blast wave jostled the raft, tossing the boat in every direction. A deluge of cool, salty water sprayed over the bow, drenching them.

Heat pressed in on him from the blazing wreckage. Debris littered the rough water and smoke billowed in the air.

Kit was still unconscious. Her breath was a strained wheeze. Another rolling rush of emotion swamped him.

Glancing at the shore, Castle had a partial view of the supermax’s parking lot. There were already flashing lights. Ambulances, police, and FBI were on the scene. From the large-scale activity, it looked as if all hell must’ve broken loose.

But it was too soon for them to be here in response to the explosion.

As he drew toward land, away from the dock and closer to the prison so he could get help for Kit sooner, he spotted U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases, or USAMRIID, biocontainment trucks and personnel in full hazmat suits. They were the military’s rapid response team that deployed to handle the highest level of biosafety contagions in coordination with the CDC.

Pomeroy and Boswell. Had Z-1984 been deployed?

Castle reached shore, running the boat up onto the ground. Not bothering to cut the engine, he picked Kit up and rushed up the hill. “Hang in there, baby. You’re a fighter.”

Off to his left about four hundred yards away, the Gray Box helicopter was setting down on the lawn. He knew Reaper would be piloting it, but when he saw Maddox hop out, he’d never been happier to see his sister.

The reinforcements might be late, but he was still grateful to see them. Castle continued charging up the mound in the opposite direction from his team. Headed straight through the gate and for an ambulance.

The massive parking lot was abuzz. As he weaved around first responders, Ashley pushed through the doors of the prison outside, looking as though she’d been to war herself. Their eyes met briefly, but he could only focus on getting Kit help.

Finally, he reached an ambulance and grabbed an EMT. “Please, help her!”

“Is she infected like the two guys inside?” the paramedic asked, taking a wary step backward. “Because USAMRIID is handling that.”

“No! She has a heart condition.”

The EMT waved him into the back of the ambulance.

Castle set Kit down gently on the gurney. “I put a Nitrostat under her tongue a few minutes ago, but she hasn’t regained consciousness.” He handed the EMT her medicine bottle.

The paramedic checked her breathing, slipped an oxygen mask on her, and got to work examining her while running an ECG.

Castle’s jaw was clamped so tightly his teeth ached. “Don’t fucking quit on me.” He took her hand and held it. “Hear me, Kit. Fight. I need you to fight.”

She didn’t answer, didn’t stir in the slightest. A sob built in his chest, but he held it inside. “We need to get her to the hospital.”

“Can’t. The CDC had the police close the road until the situation has been assessed,” the EMT said, glancing at his watch. He placed another nitroglycerin tablet under Kit’s tongue and repositioned the oxygen mask. “Hey, you’re pretty banged up, buddy. I can have the other tech check you out.”

“No.” Castle shook his head, not looking away from Kit’s pale face, desperate for her eyes to open. “I’m fine. Just focus on her.”

The fight with Sanborn had left him in rough shape. His left eye was starting to swell, he had a cut on his head that stung, a split lip, and his ribs were bruised. But none of that mattered. Kit was his main concern.