EMP: Return of the Wild West | Book 3 | Survive The Journey

by Hamilton, Grace

  “What is it?” Darryl asked.

  “I don’t think it’s bad,” Greg said.

  Looking upstream, Darryl saw a surge of water rushing down the slope, lapping at the edge of the road. They could see about fifty meters up the trail until it curved out of sight. Though it was definitely a surge, his dad was right. It didn’t seem bad—almost as if the river were mocking them for their fears.

  “We’ll never get anywhere if we keep staring at the water,” Greg said, clapping Darryl on the shoulder. “Pick up the reins and keep moving. Let me worry about it.”

  But something about this bothered him. He couldn’t put his finger on it at first. The rumble beneath his feet and the rising sound of rushing water didn’t match the minor surge that was flowing toward them.

  “Dad…”

  It was all he managed to get out before a great wall of water crashed around the bend above them. Foaming and fierce, it rolled over the landscape, splashing up onto the trail all the way to the trees on the far side. Darryl couldn’t believe how fast it was moving. Dark water pushing broken tree branches, chunks of ice, and rocks. He gasped and ran back to the horses, stooping down to grab the reins. As he did, he heard chaos all around him. Everyone began shouting, but the words were lost beneath the roar of water. Emma was holding the reins of Tabitha’s horse tightly and looking wildly back and forth, as if trying to spot an escape route.

  The cows were lowing, the horses stamping anxiously. Darryl looked for Justine and saw that his mother had wrapped both arms around her. Tabitha was motioning wildly and saying something to Greg, but Darryl couldn’t make it out.

  And then the water reached them. Cold and muddy, it swept over the trail. At first, it was only an inch high, then two, then three, but Darryl felt the ground beneath his feet sliding. He lost his footing and went down on his knees. As he did, he took the reins and wrapped them tightly around his left wrist.

  His father appeared then, taking careful steps as he moved in front of the horses. Emma was bent over, struggling to remain standing, and he grabbed her and pulled her upright.

  “I don’t think it’s going to get any deeper than this,” he said. “Let get around the bend and past the outcropping there. Come on. Go, go, go!”

  He pointed into the distance, where the bent trail moved into the trees. The water now stretched from the trees all the way across the stream to the steep rocks on the other side. Darryl started moving forward, tugging on the reins, but he felt the horse slipping behind him. He heard a series of thuds. In his struggle to stay upright, he couldn’t look to see what was causing them, but he was fairly certain it was the sound of cows falling over.

  Darryl managed to keep the horse moving, though it was very slow going as the animal had to fight for every step. The ground was almost like a treadmill moving sideways under his feet. Emma kept falling to her knees, but she finally copied Darryl’s trick of wrapping the reins around her wrist. They didn’t get far before Justine’s horse came to a dead stop. Darryl looked back and saw that the animal was still struggling, trying to move, but something seemed to be tugging at her.

  “Dad, we’re stuck,” he shouted.

  His father was standing between them now, jabbing the hiking stick into the ground to keep his balance.

  “I think it’s the travois,” he called. “I’m guessing the current pushed it into the mud. I’ll try to free it.”

  He started working his way past the horses. Marion reached down briefly and snagged the collar of his coat.

  “You three need to get up out of the water,” she shouted. “Wait for the current to pass. It’s not safe.”

  “Don’t worry,” he replied. “It’s not too deep. We have to keep the horses moving.”

  Emma lost her footing again and went down on her knees, dangling by the reins around her left wrist. Darryl reached out to help her, but that only made him lose his own footing. The ground seemed slide right out from under him, and suddenly he was hanging by his right arm, tugging on the poor horse’s harness. He struggled to get back up, but the ground was becoming mushy and soft. He couldn’t seem to get any purchase on it. When his horse tried to lift her front hooves, he saw that she struggled to get them out of the mud.

  Greg had reached the travois, and he braced himself against one of the barrels, reaching down into the water. As Darryl watched him, he realized the river had gotten even higher. Not much, maybe another inch, but it was enough to make the ground that much worse.

  “Just cut the travois loose,” Marion shouted.

  “We can’t afford to lose that much,” Greg replied. “With no cows, no supplies, and no tools, we won’t survive!”

  Darryl was still dangling from the reins, and the horse finally had enough. She swung her head to one side, which cause him to flop on his side in the water. That, in turn, startled her, and she took a step back.

  “Greg, please,” Marion screamed. “Cut the ropes! Just let the travois go!”

  And then the horse beneath her slipped and went down. Darryl saw it as if it were in slow motion. First, it crashed down on its knees, then the water pushed it onto its side. Marion still had her arms around Justine, and she managed to heave her off the saddle before her legs got crushed. Then the current swept both of them toward the trees. Darryl tried to intercept them, but it was hopeless. He couldn’t fight the current, and he couldn’t get any purchase on the wet ground. Fortunately, Marion managed to drive them into a dense tangle of underbrush, and then she pushed them into the woods.

  Greg was still on the travois, but it had been pulled off kilter when the horse went over. Pressed against a barrel, he finally reached inside his coat and produced a knife. With it, he began sawing at one of the ropes. However, Darryl saw two great shapes being swept toward him. Two full-grown heifers had fallen into the current.

  “Dad, look out,” he cried.

  At the sound of his voice, Greg turned and saw the cows bearing down on him. He pushed off the barrel, lunging for the other travois behind Tabitha’s horse in an effort to evade them. Just then, as Darryl watched with numb horror, a huge section of the river around Greg suddenly dropped down as the water washed away the trail. The travois dropped, tugging at the horse. The two cows, diverted by the current, sank into the new gap and quickly disappeared beneath the water.

  For a couple of seconds, Greg remained. Tabitha was screaming his name. Darryl made a futile effort to move toward him, but he couldn’t get his feet under him. His father was holding the top end of one of the travois’s support posts, but then the water swept over his head. His hand held fast another second, and then he lost his grip. Darryl caught one last glimpse of his father, a mere shape, as he fell into the gap and disappeared beneath the water.

  And then he was gone.

  9

  The next few minutes were mind-numbing chaos. Darryl could scarcely think. Somewhere, he heard his mother and grandmother screaming, but the roar of water dampened the sound of their voices. Greg and two cows had disappeared beneath the surface of the churning river. Darryl kept expecting them to pop back up again, but they didn’t

  “Someone get him,” Emma cried. Like Darryl, she was hanging from the reins of her horse, helpless against the current. And now, the weight of the travois was pulling her horse slowly backward, as her two riders—Horace and Tabitha—stared helplessly down into the muddy water. “Someone throw a rope into the water. Get Dad! Hurry! He’s down there somewhere.”

  Oh, God. Oh, God. It just kept repeating in Darryl’s head like a horrific mantra. His father wasn’t going to resurface. Long minutes were passing, and there was still no sign of him. It was as if the river had swallowed even the memory of his existence. Oh, God!

  He turned his head to try to see where everyone was. Marion and Justine were in the trees. They managed to wriggle themselves high enough that they were out of the stream. The horse they’d been riding was on its side, struggling to get up, but held fast by the travois, which was driven deep into the mud.<
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  “Darryl, can you see your father?” his mom called out. She had her arms around Justine, holding her tightly. “Do you see him anywhere? Did he come back up?”

  Darryl twisted around and finally managed to get one foot beneath him. This, in turn, gave him leverage to push himself up, if only for a few seconds, so he could get a clear view of the flooded stream. He saw water choked with chunks of ice, broken tree branches and leaves, rocks, and mud. There was no sign of his father or the two cows.

  Before he could say anything, the current pulled his foot out from under him again, and he went down face-firston his belly, freezing cold water filling his mouth and nostrils. Even beneath the water, he heard his mother and grandmother shouting, but Tabitha had no words—just gut-wrenching cries. When he finally managed to push himself above the water again, he realized that Horace and Tabitha were in trouble. Their horse was being slowly pulled backward by the weight of the travois.

  Emma was still shouting at him. “Darryl! Do you see Dad? Did you see where he went?”

  “He’s…gone,” Darryl replied, then coughed up a bunch of muddy water. “The river took him.”

  His own words intensified the horror, but he forced himself to act. Crawling, clawing at the soft ground beneath him, he worked his way toward Tabitha and Horace. They were astride their horse, Tabitha tugging at the reins, as if it might help. Inch by inch, Darryl managed to approach their horse, and he reached up with his free hand, fumbling at the strap which held the travois harness against the big horse’s breast. However, working at the knot was futile with one hand, so he pulled his other hand out of the reins. This put him in a precarious position as the ground constantly shifted beneath him.

  “He never came back up!” Tabitha had practically screamed herself horse. “Did anyone see him? Did anyone see him?”

  He’s not coming back up, Darryl thought. Don’t you get it, Grandma? He’s gone! He didn’t want to say it out loud again. It was too horrible.

  He tugged the knots apart, and suddenly the harness fell away, dragged by the weight of the travois down into the same whirlpool that had taken his father. As soon as it was gone, Darryl’s feet were swept out from under him, and he went down on his knees.

  “Darryl, what are you doing?” That was his mother, shouting from the trees. “Grab onto something!”

  He tried to grab the taut reins above him, but he fumbled and missed. As he slid past Emma, she grabbed at him. He felt her fingers clawing his shoulder, his arm, but then he was moving past her. Still, he managed to stay on his knees, well above the water, and as the current pulled him toward the bend in the trail, he reached out and snagged a low branch from a nearby tree. His momentum caused the branch to bend, but somehow it didn’t break. This swung him into the trees, where he wrapped his arm around a trunk. Then, with all his effort, he was able to pull himself away from the road, dragging his body up the slope.

  As he ripped through the underbrush, he heard something huge thud against the trees behind him. Glancing back, he saw Marion’s horse. Somehow, the travois had pulled free of the mud, and the current had pushed both horse and travois into the trees. The desperate horse managed to work its way between two trunks, where it was held fast against the current, pinned by their gear.

  If I’d thought to release the travois sooner, Dad wouldn’t have tried to save it, Darryl thought. Why did I just flop around in the current while he put his life at risk?

  His guilty realization was like a knife in the guts, and tears blurred his vision as he pulled himself above the level of the flooded stream. He started making his way toward Marion and Justine. As he did, he looked down through the trees for Emma and the other horse. Freed from the travois, the big animal was picking its way carefully across the flooded trail toward the trees, as Emma clung desperately to the reins, barely managing to keep her head above water. Many of the cows had also managed to hold their ground against the water. Darryl saw them standing there, clearly confused.

  “Hang on, Emma,” he shouted. His voice cracked. “You’re almost there.”

  Once the horse reached the trees, Horace and Tabitha both grabbed sturdy branches. Emma was then able to climb the reins, get her feet under her, and pull herself into the woods. Using branches like rungs on a ladder, she dragged herself up the slope, ripping through underbrush with her head and shoulders, until she was above the water. Nearby, Marion frantically beckoned her.

  Nobody was shouting for Greg now. The debris-choked river had taken him. That was clear. As Darryl picked his way through the dense woods toward his family, he felt guilt curdling into bitter sadness.

  I should have warned him about the flooding sooner, he thought. I should have done something. Anything!

  Marion still had her arms around Justine, holding her protectively, and Justine, in turn, had her arms wrapped around her own belly. By the time Darryl finally reached them, Emma was almost there, picking her way branch by branch. When Darryl turned to check on Tabitha, however, he saw something even more amazing. Somehow, Tabitha and Horace had pulled themselves out of the saddle and settled themselves in the crook of some big branches. Horace seemed to have lost one of his prosthetic legs, but the horse and travois were both beneath them, pressed against the tree and safe for the moment.

  “Darryl, did you see what happened to him?” his mom asked. “Did you see where he went?” She was sobbing, and her eyes were red.

  “The trail just collapsed beneath him, and the current pulled him into the river,” Darryl replied. “It all happened so fast. I should have stopped him from going back there. I should have done something.” And now his tears turned to weeping, and he buried his face in his hands.

  “No, don’t start talking like that,” his mom said. “Don’t start blaming yourself.”

  “Maybe was able to grab something downstream,” Emma suggested, then began coughing. “Maybe…” Her coughing turned into retching, and then she vomited up a large amount of muddy water.

  Darryl felt someone grabbing at his arm, and he looked up into the face of Justine. She had an agonized expression on her face, teeth bared and forehead furrowed. Reaching for him, she managed to grab the sleeve of his coat, and she held fast. For some reason, this made him weep more bitterly, and now Emma wept as well, loudly, unleashing great heaving sobs.

  “Oh, God…he’s dead, isn’t he? He’s dead,” Emma wailed. “We never should have taken this stupid trail! What are we going to do now?”

  Marion drew her in close, and she collapsed against her mother’s side.

  This is on me, Darryl thought, whether Mom wants me to admit it or not. I should have made him turn back right away. The trail had flood damage. I saw it with my own eyes, but I just wasn’t thinking clearly.

  It was unbearable. He’d never felt such raw, uncontainable pain in his entire life, and he shut his eyes, covered his face, and just ached with it. Emma and Marion were both crying. He thought he heard Tabitha crying as well. But above it all, like an endless mockery of their pain, was the roar of the river. On and on it went, as if to prove its dominance, churning and splashing, debris cracking against tree trunks like drumbeats.

  Darryl cried until his face hurt, and then he scrubbed furiously at his face and dared to open his eyes. In their grief, Marion and Emma had finally fallen into a kind of stupor, holding each other. Justine had moved closer to Darryl, and he embraced her now, pulling her close enough that he could lay his hands on her belly.

  I can’t just sit here and grieve, he realized. They need me more than ever.

  He turned to the river again and realized that much time had passed. It had felt like a few minutes, but considering all that had happened, he thought it was closer to an hour or more. The stream had begun to abate, leaving forest debris piled up where it receded into itself. The horses had held their ground against the trees, as had many of the cows. Only one travois remained, however. Of Greg, there was no sign, and as he watched the flooding subside, he saw the massive gap in the trail
behind them, where the current had eaten away a section about ten meters long.

  “We never should have left the cave,” Emma said, her voice hoarse from crying.

  Darryl wanted to agree with her. There was something in him now that really wanted to plunge into despair, but he fought it, he fought it with everything in him. If he gave into the darkness, his family would never recover from this.

  “We made a decision based on what we knew,” he told Emma, saying it loudly enough that the whole family would hear. Fortunately, the roar of the stream had also largely subsided. “Every decision is a gamble, but we did what seemed best.”

  “But now Dad is gone, and we hardly have anything left,” Emma replied.

  “I know,” Darryl said, picking himself up, “but he would want us to keep moving, so that’s what we’re going to do. We still have to reach the cabin, if we want to be safe, so let’s get away from this stream and off this mountain.”

  Giving his face another good scrubbing, he picked himself up. He was still soaking wet. The river water had gotten into his boots, his backpack, his underwear. It had filled his pockets. He felt thoroughly saturated and uncomfortable, but he steeled himself for what he had to do.

  “Mom.”

  She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, her damp hair stuck to her cheeks like a fright mask. Darryl beckoned her.

  “We have to keep moving,” he said. “We’ll have plenty of time to grieve, but in the meantime, we still have people to protect.” He gestured down at Justine.

  Marion lifted her face, and though she looked completely miserable and broken, she slowly extricated herself from Emma and rose on shaky legs.

  “You’re right,” she said. She started to say something else, but her lower lip quivered. Finally, she forced it out, “I think I’d like to take a look along the riverbank first. I won’t get too close. I just have to see.” Tears sprang to her eyes again, as she added, “I know he’s gone. I feel it, but…” She shrugged. “Maybe he clung to something. Maybe. I just have to know for sure.”