Chapter 177 Shattered into Pieces and Still Calling Her

Chapter 177 Shattered into Pieces and Still Calling Her

"One route." Isaac verified the white-haired doctor's claim against the sonar data.

A new layer of ice had formed a tubular structure approximately two meters in diameter above the cavity. The tunnel extended from the 2,800-meter depth all the way to the surface.

How far had they progressed?

"Six hundred meters." Isaac paused. "Advancing at four hundred meters per minute."

Morrison did the math—roughly fifty-some minutes.

Rivera stepped closer, the communicator still pressed to his ear.

"The rescue team has reached the airspace above the core area. They'll move in the moment the tunnel breaks through to the surface."

After Emily left the hospital room, she didn't ask any questions. She just leaned against the corridor wall, hands pressed to her chest.

Jenny said something else behind the door. Even through the barrier, everyone in the hallway could hear her.

"Mommy, the patch is glowing again."

The white-haired doctor went in to check. When he came back out, his steps were much quicker than when he'd entered.

Output power had increased by eight percent. Heart rate had risen from fifteen beats per minute to twenty-two.

Morrison leaned against the wall to rest for a moment, taking a deep breath—but he didn't fully exhale. There were still crucial matters ahead.

During the wait, the communicator crackled to life every five minutes.

"Tunnel extended to 1,400 meters."

"1,800 meters."

"2,200 meters."

Three hundred meters from the surface, rescue personnel had already set up equipment on the ice.

At the forty-ninth minute, Isaac's voice changed.

"The tunnel's stopped extending."

Morrison opened his eyes. "What happened?"

When they were still 120 meters from the surface, the ice formation had stopped advancing.

The white-haired doctor took the tablet and checked the patch data. "Output power hasn't changed. Signal's still there."

Then why had it stopped?

Isaac replied, "The heat source temperature in the cavity dropped from thirty-four degrees Celsius to thirty-two."

Morrison pressed a hand to his forehead. He knew what this meant.

Wayne's condition was deteriorating. Building the tunnel while maintaining Jenny's gene-lock signal—he couldn't do both simultaneously.

"Can the rescue team drill down to 120 meters below the surface?"

Rivera shook his head. "The ice density is one-fortieth. Current equipment can't penetrate it."

Morrison hurled the communicator at the wall.

"Wait." Isaac's voice stopped him. "Heat source temperature is rising again. Thirty-two point five. Thirty-three."

The white-haired doctor grabbed the tablet. "Patch output power has decreased by six percent."

Morrison seized the white-haired doctor's arm. "What did you just say?"

"He's using part of Jenny's safety margin to build the tunnel."

The white-haired doctor looked up. "Trading it for his own life."

Emily didn't speak. She turned and went into the hospital room.

Three seconds later, her voice drifted out. "Jenny's fine. Temperature normal. Tag's still lit."

Morrison relaxed for a moment before tensing up again. "What if something goes wrong with Jenny before the tunnel's finished?"

The white-haired doctor didn't answer. Because 2,800 meters beneath the ice, Wayne had already made that choice for them.

The tunnel began extending again—sixty meters per minute, slightly faster than before.

Two minutes later.

Cracks appeared on the surface. The rescue team spotted something tubular slowly approaching from beneath the ice.

Morrison took the communicator to the window. Though he couldn't see the glacier over the Arctic Ocean, right now he felt like he could hear the ice splitting.

For the first time, Isaac heard something in his own voice he couldn't suppress.

"Tunnel's broken through."

Rivera called his subordinates. "Go now. Leave immediately."

The rescue team leader transmitted his voice via relay satellite. Though the distance was vast, every word came through clearly.

"Interior walls are smooth. Temperature around negative forty degrees Celsius. We can enter. Team members, bring stretchers, oxygen tanks, and other equipment. Heading down now."

No one in the corridor spoke.

The white-haired doctor sat on the floor, tablet resting on his knees, studying the patch data curves.

Morrison stood by the window, phone on speaker so everyone could listen.

"Five hundred meters down. Tunnel structure intact."

"One thousand meters. Temperature rising to negative twenty degrees."

"At two thousand meters, we can see light below."

Morrison's hands trembled. Unconsciously, he pressed the communicator tighter against his ear.

"2,500 meters. Tunnel widening. There's a cavity."

The rescue team leader paused for three seconds. "Found him."

Morrison said nothing, waiting for more.

"Subject is lying supine on the ice. There's an indentation beneath his body. His entire body is covered in a thin shell of ice, but it hasn't completely frozen."

"Dried blood crusts in the nostrils. Obvious deformity at the left clavicle. Right index and middle fingers—bone exposed."

"Vital signs." Rivera cut in.

"Pulse weak but present. No pupillary light reflex. Body temperature thirty-three degrees Celsius."

The white-haired doctor stood. "Give the patient oxygen. Don't move his cervical spine. Use the stretcher to lift him."

"Copy."

Isaac's voice came through the communicator one last time. "Patch output power rising. Back to ninety-seven percent of normal levels."

Morrison removed the communicator from his ear and gripped it in his hand. Head bowed, shoulders shaking—but he made no sound.

Rivera leaned his head against the wall and held it there for three seconds before letting go.

The hospital room door cracked open. Emily's voice drifted out. "The patch is flashing."

Morrison looked up.

"White light glowing like always." Emily's voice was barely audible, reaching only the few people in the corridor. "Jenny says Daddy's calling her name."

The white-haired doctor came to the doorway and peered inside.

Jenny was sitting up in bed, hand pressed to the heart patch on her chest, her face radiant with a blissful smile.

Back in the corridor, he tucked the tablet under his arm and leaned against the wall.

"He's beneath 2,800 meters of ice. Half the bones in his body are shattered. Brain hemorrhage. Body temperature only thirty-three degrees Celsius."

Morrison looked at him.

The white-haired doctor continued. "In that condition, he carved out a route for himself. And still managed to send his daughter the gene-lock maintenance signal."

"Just say what you want to say."

The white-haired doctor set down his tablet. "I'm saying—I've practiced medicine for thirty years. Only now do I understand what true will to survive looks like."

It took rescue personnel twenty-seven minutes to pull Wayne up through the tunnel. The rescue helicopter had been waiting on the ice the entire time.

The flight from the Arctic to Jiangcheng would take three hours and forty minutes, with two military tanker planes providing midair refueling.

Morrison stayed for three hours and forty-five minutes, the communicator pressed to his ear the entire time in the corridor.

Every fifteen minutes, the rescue team reported vital signs.

Body temperature thirty-four degrees Celsius. Heart rate twenty-eight beats per minute. Blood oxygen saturation 81%.

Body temperature thirty-six point two degrees Celsius. Heart rate fifty beats per minute. Unconscious. Slight changes in EEG.