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“Breathe in for four seconds. Okay good, now hold that breath for a count of seven. That’s it, now exhale slowly.” Dahlia’s voice sounded like it was coming to him from underwater, the words muted, far away.
A strong hand grasped the back of his neck. “Look at me, Montana. Fucking look at me.”
Montana slowly shifted his gaze to Vadisk, who was standing close, less than two feet between them.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he demanded. “And do as Dahlia says. Breathe.”
Montana started to look away. He needed to see the walls, needed to be ready to run when?—
Vadisk shook him roughly, his hands cupping his cheeks, gripping him so tightly that Montana couldn’t turn his head. “Look. At. Me.”
“The walls,” Montana started to say, his voice raspy. There wasn’t a drop of saliva in his mouth.
“The walls are strong, steady. We’re safe in here,” Vadisk insisted.
Montana wanted to shake his head, but his husband held him too firmly.
“Now fucking breathe!”
It was only then that Montana realized Dahlia’s hand was still on his chest, that she’d kept up a steady dialogue, her voice calm and soothing. “Inhale, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four, that’s good, six, seven. Now exhale nice and slow. Three, four, five, six…”
“Do it with her,” Vadisk commanded.
Montana tried to mimic Dahlia’s actions, but there wasn’t enough air in the cave for both of them. They needed to get out of here before they asphyxiated.
“No air,” he gasped.
“There is,” Vadisk said. “Lots of it. Get some into your lungs.”
Gray spots formed in front of his eyes and Montana started to feel lightheaded, dizzy. He lifted his free hand, reaching out for…something.
Vadisk grabbed it and slapped it against the cold stone wall. “Feel it. It’s solid rock. Been here thousands of years. And it will be here for thousands more. Breathe now, or I swear to God, I’ll knock you out so that your unconscious brain does it for you.”
Montana considered that option, thinking it the best one. He almost said so, but…
“In,” Dahlia said again, her mantra never ceasing.
This time, he felt some air slip in as he instinctively did what she said. He expelled it quickly, gasping in some more. While her breaths were steady, his were more like the bellows of a horse after running the Kentucky Derby. However, air was going in. His lungs were opening and his vision was starting to clear.
“You. Can’t. Knock. Me. Out. Have to…be able…to run,” he said between panting breaths.
Vadisk smiled, lightly slapping his cheek. “There you are.”
For a few minutes more, they remained where they were, Dahlia guiding his breathing. “In. That’s right, now hold it. And…release. Exhale nice and slow.”
Vadisk’s strong hand held steady around the side of his neck, comforting him, supporting him. By the time the panic attack had receded and his breathing was somewhat back to normal—his breaths were still too shallow, too quick—he was overcome by a wave of exhaustion so thick, he suspected he could curl up in a corner and sleep for days.
“I’m okay,” he lied.
His spouses nodded, even though he could see neither believed him.
“We need to keep going,” Vadisk spoke softly, his words laced with an apology. “We’re still too close to the entrance. There’s a place deep—” He stopped, choosing different words. “There’s a good place for us a little farther along where we can rest for a few minutes and discuss what to do next.”
Montana had one goal right now and it was getting the hell out of here. He wasn’t sure how much help he’d be when it came to plotting next steps.
He licked his dry lips and nodded. Talking was beyond him right now.
Even in the dimness of the cave, Vadisk seemed to understand that while his panic was under control, Montana’s grasp on it was tenuous at best. He retrieved his backpack from Dahlia and opened it, rifling through until he pulled out a bottle of water. He uncapped it and handed it to him.
