In the Land of Gold

by Angela Christina Archer

  I rolled over, opened my eyes, and looked up at the top of my tent. Nearly dawn, the sun glowed pale through the canvas.

  A sudden scream echoed through the campsites, followed by several more. The sheer, terror-filled, depth in the screams sent a chill through to my bones. I bounded off the cot and my feet plunged into cold water as high as my knees.

  Nearly knocked off balance, my eyes darted all around. My supplies floated, circling around the tent, and slamming into one of the corners. The water surged through the tent as though Rhett staked it in the middle of the river.

  Shadows from other lanterns zigzagged outside and shouts of men and women bellowed in the mass chaos.

  I grabbed my sopping wet boots, now floating next to the soggy mess that was once my bed of blankets, and yanked them on without tying the laces. Trudging through the tent flap, the water raged past me—flowing like rapids in a river and soaking my pant legs.

  Unearthed trees collided into one another and against the boulders drowning out the shouts between the struggling campers.

  Torrents of river water flowed, rushing through the campsite, demolishing canvas tents, campfires, and anything else in its path.

  Supplies and wagons were swept down river in mere seconds. What had been a salvation to traveling stampeeders was now ruining all that everyone held dear.

  Horses reared, screaming and jerking wildly against the ropes that bound them to posts in the ground. Men and women darted in every direction, shouting at one another, and fighting the strong current to untie as many horses as they could before grabbing armfuls of supplies. I hurried to Rhett’s tent, struggling through the raging water.

  “Rhett?” I screamed.

  His tent was empty.

  Of course, surely, he would be attending the horses on the tie line.

  Fighting the river, I dodged trees and supplies whipping in all directions. My pace was frustratingly slow, and by the time I reached the tie line, all the horses were gone and no one was around.

  Overwhelmed with mind numbing panic, I dashed back toward my own tent. Perhaps Rhett, or even Flynn, had come looking for me.

  My tent was just as empty as Rhett’s.

  Where is everyone?

  Paralyzed by fear, I braced myself against my tent stakes and scanned every person around me.

  Crack.

  My body jerked and I lost my footing. Steadying myself, I gripped the post tighter.

  Crack.

  Two of the rear posts on my tent snapped in half, one by one, against the current. The tent slid sideways under the force of the water. In one blinding second, I’d lost my death grip around the post as it, too, snapped, and the swirling water swept my tent from under me.

  I lunged for the floating mess, but it slipped away just as the current knocked me from my feet and I sank beneath the water.

  A pair of arms grabbed my waist, and yanked me from the depths of the river, dragging me backwards several feet as I gasped for air.

  “Are ya all right?” Rhett shouted.

  I nodded, coughing and sputtering as I wiped the muddy water from my eyes.

  “Get to high ground,” he shouted, pushing me toward the direction he pointed. “We got to get to the high ground.”

  I scrambled through the water and thick mud along the bank. Slipping on a few rocks, I tumbled to my hands and knees before reaching the protection of the hillside outside of the ravine.

  Blood streamed down both my arms from deep cuts, and even my forehead dripped blood, though I had no memory of hitting my head. The muddy water burned my eyes, soaked my hair, and choked my lungs as I coughed and sputtered.

  “Rhett?” I spun around. Searching in every direction as I called for him over and over. No longer behind me, I couldn’t find him anywhere.

  Thunder pounded the earth, shaking beneath me. My body trembled, not only from the vibrating ground, but from the terrifying sound I didn’t want to turn and face.

  “Run,” a man shouted as he sprinted past me.

  I glanced over my shoulder and I couldn’t breathe. Trees jerked side to side in the distance. Some disappeared all together—swallowed up by an intense evil that headed straight for me.

  A wall of roiling mud slid along the earth, bearing straight for the camp as it filled the ravine, and effortlessly destroyed everything in its path. Blood curdling screams echoed through the forest.

  Obeying the man’s command, I sprinted away. Tree branches scraped my arms and ripped at my hair and clothes. The thundering noise boomed behind me. The ground rumbled under my feet, shaking the trees all around me. I grabbed the trunk of one and buried my face into the bark—cutting my cheek and scraping my skin.

  A wave of thick mud slammed against my body. My nails dug deeper into the bark, but no matter how hard they tried to hold their grip, my fingers one by one peeled away from the tree.

  The mud engulfed me. Dragging me along, it smashed me against a rock, scraping my body against the granite. Blind and gasping for breath, I flailed my arms in hopes of catching something, anything I could grasp. My prayers finally answered as my body crashed into two trees, wedging me between them.

  The thick mud raged to a halt, and silence ruled the valley. The mud settled where it desired and covered the ravine, knee deep in some areas and waist deep in others.

  Pressed tightly against the tree, my skin had taken the shape of the bark. I coughed and sputtered, gasping for air. Mud caked my face and hair, burning my eyes and grinding against my teeth. I spit, wiping my lips with the back of my hand.

  Fear, and latent remorse, pounded through my head. I couldn’t bear to look, but knew I must. I turned and faced the horrifying scene.

  Dead bodies, both human and animal, lay scattered amongst the rubble of ripped canvas tents, broken wagons, and ruined supplies littering the ravine. A once beautiful clearing in the forest, Sheep Camp was now a barren and muddy mess.

  Covered in mud just as I was, other surviving stampeders stirred from the trees and trudged along the bank of what remained of the river. I climbed down from the two trees. Shielding the rising sun from my eyes, I stumbled through the sludge.

  I have to find Flynn.

  Picking my way through the muck, every face I passed that wasn’t Flynn caused fear to pound down upon my shoulders. The farther I trekked, the more lost I became. Unearthed trees left no clues as to where Flynn settled his camp and I didn’t know how far the mudslide had dragged me.

  Utterly astray, I dropped to my knees and I buried my face in my hands.

  Would I ever find him?

  “You all right?” one man asked, his voice shaking with every syllable.

  What was all right?

  If he meant hurt in anyway, I was caked in mud and bleeding from several cuts, but none of my bones were broken. If he meant lost and alone, I wasn’t all right in the slightest.

  “Yes, Sir,” I replied, not wanting to admit to the latter.

  “We’re getting out of here before another slide comes. You should come too.”

  The thought of following anyone but Flynn was like a punch to the gut. “I’ll be along in just a minute.”

  He nodded, accepting my answer and stumbled to rejoin his group. Inhaling a sharp breath, I returned to the trees that saved my life, then sat on the ground. I couldn’t leave, even though I knew I should.

  One by one other men and women passed me until no one remained within eyesight. I should have joined them for safety, but even though my head screamed the logical instructions, my feet wouldn’t obey.

  Go, Cora, just go. Flynn’s gone.

  A glint from the cap of a canteen lying on its side sparkled in the sunlight.

  A gift from God?

  I lunged for it, unscrewed the cap, and chugged.

&nbs
p; With my thirst quenched, I doused my face, rinsing off as much mud as the canteen of water allowed, then rested my head against the bark of the tree.

  My mud-caked clothes stuck to my skin, too thick to wipe off. Of course, my mud-covered hand couldn’t wipe anything clean, either.

  With my nails full of bark and dirt, the mud had already begun to dry, coating my hands and causing them to itch—an awful bone-deep itch. Grit encrusted my scalp and left my hair a knotted mess, feeling much like sand paper.

  How am I going to get my brush through this?

  But, my brush was in my pack. The pit of my stomach twisted and my heart nearly stopped beating.

  My pack. My deed. My money.

  Most of my supplies were with Flynn—with the exception of my pack. Everything important was in the tent that was swept away before my eyes. Unable to control myself, I retched. Coughing, my heart pounded and my body trembled.

  I pulled my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth and fighting hysterics. All of my dreams vanished.

  What should I do now?

  I couldn’t reach Dawson City without any money for more supplies. I didn’t even have the supplies to return to Dyea or Skagway.

  My panicked thoughts suffocated me—wrapping imaginary fingers around my neck and squeezing.

  I threw the canteen. It bounced and the silver cap reflected the sun with a blinding light. Glancing away to protect my eyes, I caught sight of a pack strap buried a few feet from me.

  My heart pounded.

  Diving for the strap, I grabbed hold of it and jerked with every ounce of strength I had left. The pack wiggled a little within the mud’s death grip, clinging to its newfound home with determination.

  I let go of the strap, staring at it for a few moments and caught my breath.

  Put more weight into it.

  I looped the strap around my arm, leaning back with all my weight and jerked my body several times. Slowly, the pack slipped from the clutches of the mud, sliding at first and then it flew through the air and flopped onto the ground.

  The brown pack resembled mine in color and shape, and as I examined it further, I could find no markings or branded letters distinguishing it apart from another.

  Perhaps, my luck would prevail.

  I untied the strings and tugged open the oiled leather. Instead of digging around, I turned the pack over and gave it a few good shakes, dumping the contents onto the ground. A few wet flannel shirts, a couple of ruined packs of cigarettes, a book of ruined, wet matches, and a small bag of dried beef tumbled out.

  The pack wasn’t mine.

  I buried my face in my hands and succumbed to tears. No matter how confused I’d been about my actions the last few weeks, none of those feelings compared to now—lost, alone, and utterly defenseless.

  I have no other choice.

  Mustering all the strength in my sore body, I rose to my feet, threw the shirts in the pack, and hoisted it over my shoulder. In turn, I journeyed after the vanished stampeeders as I devoured the dried beef and trudged through the incessant mud.

  Hours passed, and the sun arched over the forest, drawing the same vaulted line through the trees as I’d seen countless times in the opposite direction.

  Cold, black darkness would eventually shadow the warm yellow light—an occurrence that tested my spirit on a daily basis.

  I followed the footprints in the mud, trampling through the trees, hour after mind numbing hour. The farther I wandered away from Sheep Camp, the mud thinned and so did any sign of the people who’d traveled the path before me.

  I shut out my lonely thoughts and tried to ignore the lengthening shadows that heralded the impending nightfall.

  The sun rose in the middle of chaos, and now it was about to set with my own turmoil.

  Foolishly, I’d believed I wouldn’t survive in the boring, ordinary life expected of me. How naive I’d been. Worse off than ever before, the life Mother had envisioned held nothing in comparison to the danger I faced.

  The footprints continued to fade until they finally vanished along with any notion they’d ever existed. No lantern light flickered anywhere around me. No voices murmured amongst the trees, no whispers, or hints that someone else lingered nearby.

  As night finally fell upon the forest, the darkness closed in around me along with my fear. Hungry, thirsty, and exhausted, I surrendered to doubt as it invaded and devoured my hopeful convictions.

  Moonlight shined through the trees, flecking the forest floor. The soft glow, though, wasn’t enough to eclipse the darkness.

  I stopped near a massive boulder. Leaning against it, I slid down the side until my backside hit the ground. The rock caught a few seams on my jacket, tugging at the fabric, but I didn’t care. My concern lay with food, shelter, fire, protection, and the terrifying fact that I lacked all I needed.

  Cursing at myself for eating the dried beef this morning, I yanked the flannel shirts from the pack and wrapped them around me as much as each piece of fabric allowed.

  My eyes fluttered, weighing heavy, but as much as sleep beckoned, the thought of closing my eyes terrified me, and I pinched my arm as I bit my lip.

  Just stay awake. You can’t fall asleep alone. It’s only for a few hours, and you can sleep tomorrow when you find others. Just stay awake.

  A wolf howled in the distance. The sound resonated in my chest and stole my breath.

  Flynn’s recounted stories of brutal attacks by a pack of hungry wolves or a lone bear replayed in my mind. His vivid descriptions of massive paws, sharp teeth, and cunning, stealthy predators attempting to prey on vulnerable supplies, horses, or stampeeders haunted my dreams in both daylight and darkness.

  Another wolf howled. Slightly closer than the last, the volume spread cold through my body. Trembling, I squeezed my legs tighter and buried my face in my knees.

  The tree branch above the rock lurched as an owl landed upon it and clutched the bark with its claws. I flinched and covered my mouth to silence my scream.

  A third howl echoed through the trees, closer than the first two.

  I rose to my feet and wrapped my arms around the rock, searching for any notches I could dig into and climb up on top. As many times as I tried to scale the granite, I tumbled to the ground within seconds.

  Panic set in. My mind imagined dozens of wolves loping through the trees toward me. They sensed my fear, sensed that I would be easy prey, a defenseless woman in the middle of nowhere, without a fire, without a gun.

  Squinting, I looked all around me. Movement rustled in the trees behind me. I spun to face it, but in the soft moonlight, could see nothing but black darkness.

  My heart raced. Another movement rustled in the trees, this time, though, it wasn’t just the movement of one, but the movement of several. Twigs snapped and fallen branches crunched in one, two, no…from five different directions, surrounding me.

  I tried to climb the rock once more, scrambling until I finally found leverage. My foot caught the first notch, and then my fingers found another, and I hosted myself up toward the top of the rock as a few more notches revealed themselves, one by one.

  I almost screamed in joy, but the sudden rush of relief vanished in one single, horrid, second.

  Teeth bit down on the leg of my pants and a sudden jerk from something much stronger than I nearly pulled me from the rock. The fabric ripped, freeing me, and I scrambled for safety.

  Guttural warning growls rumbled amidst the grating sound of coarse nails searching purchase on the sides of the granite.

  Finally reaching the top, I looked around. In the gray glow of the moonlight, my worst horror encircled me. Several pairs of eyes met mine.

  Wolves. And, more than my mind could fathom.

  Swift of foot, their stealth movement was just as Flynn descri
bed it.

  One of the wolves lunged, jumping high, and his nails scraped against the granite. I huddled, motionless, centered at the top of the rock with my legs and arms tucked.

  I couldn’t risk losing my balance, or I’d tumble to the ground where they would rip me to shreds.

  Another wolf lunged, its teeth snapping the air just feet from my face. My blood-curdling scream resounded through the trees and egged on the wolves even more. It was a game for them. A game, deep down, I knew they would win.

  How could they not? I had nowhere to run and it wasn’t as if they would leave upon daylight. They would only leave after they killed their prey.

  Frozen in fear, and from the night’s numbing cold, a deep shiver disrupted my precarious stance. My body teetered, and in a blinding mistake, I moved my arm. A third wolf lunged and his teeth captured the fabric of my jacket.

  I shrieked in horror as the large beast jerked and yanked, pulling with all its weight against mine, his hairy paws now strained against the solid granite.

  More wolves surrounded the one who had a hold of me near the base of the rock, waiting for me to lose my balance and fall.

  I twisted and pulled my arm, trying to free myself from the wolf’s grip, but nothing worked. The beast was as much a part of my jacket as I, and he wasn’t letting go.

  My body slid against the rock, my clothes scraping as I began to slide toward the edge.

  The thought of being ripped apart, limb from limb, seemed inevitable. Hopefully, I would die quickly. Hopefully, the pain wouldn’t last. Only a few more inches and I would fall to my death.