Prescription for Love
Page 10
“Wait.” Harper grasped her arm. “We don’t know what’s up there. The house might be unsound. We have to go slowly.”
Abby jerked her arm free. “I have to get outside.”
“There may be secondary twisters.” Harper blocked her path to the stairs. “It won’t do anyone any good if you get hurt too.”
“My son—Margie—”
“Flann is with them,” Harper said grimly. “Come on, just stay with me.”
At the top of the stairs, Harper shoved on the door leading into the kitchen. It didn’t move. “Blocked.”
Panic tore at Abby’s throat. She couldn’t be trapped. She had to get out. “Let me help.”
Abby crowded onto the top stair beside Harper.
“On three,” Harper said. “One, two…three.”
Abby pushed against the solid wood door as hard as she could. It moved a fraction.
“Again.”
On the third try, wood scraped on wood and the door opened enough for them to squeeze through. The kitchen table had upended and come to rest against the door. The light was out, but the walls and ceiling still stood. Someone had managed to get the windows open, and the only damage seemed to be broken furniture tossed around as if by an angry child.
Harper righted a chair and cleared a path to the porch. The screen door was gone. A tree on the far side of the yard had uprooted and lay in the yard in a mound of broken boards and pieces of slate. A wheelbarrow sat atop the pile. Abby jumped down the stairs and stared at the barn. The back half of the roof was gone, only a skeleton of rafters bare to the sky. Dread twisted through her. “Oh God.”
Abby ran, skirting debris, sliding in mud and rivulets of water. Rain pelted down, sharp needles she barely felt. Broken branches clawed at her legs. The barn door hung down, half-unhinged. She pulled aside a tree limb and tugged at the end of a splintered board blocking her way.
“Here,” Harper said, catching up to her. “Let me help. Don’t try to go inside yet. The whole thing might come down.”
“I’m getting my son.” Abby peered into the dark interior. A jumble of debris filled the aisle. She pulled out another loose board and edged into the doorway.
“We’re going to get them.” Harper held her back. “But if we move something and bring all of it down, we’re not helping them.”
Glenn, Presley, and Carrie appeared out of the storm.
“Did you find them?” Presley asked.
“Not yet,” Harper said. “But we will.”
Glenn said, “I ought to try to get to the hospital. The ER is going to need us.”
“Yes,” Harper said. “Go.”
Carrie said, “I’ll go with you. We can take my car.”
“I’ll be there as soon as we get the kids and Flann.” Harper gripped Presley’s arm. “Can you try the phones? See if you can reach my parents, make sure everyone there is all right?”
“Yes,” Presley said. “Be careful, okay?”
“We will.” Harper kissed her. “You too.”
Abby sucked in a breath. The control she brought to bear in the midst of an emergency rose to the surface, and she pushed the panic back into its dark corner. “Tell me what to do.”
“We need some light—I’m going to get a flashlight from my truck. Call to them and see if we can get a fix on where they are. I’ll be right back.”
Harper hurried off and Abby peered into the dark depths of the barn. “Blake? Flann? Margie—are you there?”
Abby’s heart stopped beating as silence crowded out the air in her lungs. “Blake?”
“Mom? Back here!”
Abby’s heart started up again. “Are you hurt?”
“We’re good,” Flann called.
“Can you get out?”
“We’re blocked in,” Flann called. “What I can see of the roof looks iffy.”
Harper returned and shone a light into the barn. Splintered wood and a jumble of beams filled the center aisle. “Flann? Can you see daylight?”
“No!”
“What about fire rescue?” Abby asked.
“They’re all volunteers. Everybody in the area’s probably dealing with the same thing,” Harper said. “It could be hours.”
“Then we have to get them out ourselves,” Abby said calmly. “You’re in charge.”
Harper studied Abby and nodded. “Follow me.”
Chapter Eleven
Flann couldn’t move her left leg. Something heavy pinned her in the pile of rubble. Thank God, she could feel her toes, wiggle them, but she couldn’t pull free, and every time she tried, the debris above her groaned and creaked. She’d rather not have the whole thing come down on their heads. Pain lanced down the back of her thigh and a warm wet sensation followed. Didn’t feel like bone pain—probably just a laceration. The blood loss didn’t seem extreme but she didn’t want to make it any worse. They might be there for a long time.
“Are you two sure you’re not hurt?”
“My shoulder’s banged up a little,” Margie said, her voice steady and quiet. “But it’s not dislocated, and my arm is fine.”
“Blake?”
“I’m okay.” His voice was breathy and tight.
He was doing pretty good for a city kid. Hell, any kid.
“Harper’s out there and she’s going to get us out of here,” Flann said. “Just don’t move around too much, and do everything she says. No questions, just do it.”
“What about the chicks?” Margie asked.
Flann would have shaken her head if she’d been able to. Had to love her. “That’s a question.”
“Yeah, but for information purposes only,” Margie said.
“I’ve got them,” Blake said. “The box is still in my arms, and it’s not crushed. I can hear them cheeping.”
“Good job,” Margie said. “We can set them up in the kitchen when we get out.”
Flann grinned. Margie was a rock. Someday, she’d be the matriarch of the coming Rivers generations.
“What about the kittens?” Blake said.
“My bet is they burrowed down in the hay,” Flann said. “We’ll look for them once we get this place secure.”
A rumbling roar grew closer, and Blake gasped. “Is that another one coming?”
“That,” Flann said with a wave of relief, “is an ATV. The cavalry has arrived.”
*
Abby clutched the roll bar on the ATV as Harper maneuvered over and around fallen branches, boards, and uprooted fence posts behind the barn. Abby recoiled at the scope of the wreckage. The back half of the barn had caved in. Only two uprights and one beam about halfway to where the roof had been remained standing intact. Piles of slate, tin, and other rubble from the collapsed portions of the roof filled the interior. Miraculously, the new chicken coop remained unscathed.
Blake, Margie, and Flann were somewhere beneath that horrible devastation. How were they ever going to get to them? If they’d been in Manhattan, dozens of emergency responders with all sorts of equipment would already be on scene. Here there were no flashing lights, no sirens, no one else at all.
“It looks like a giant heap of pick-up sticks,” Abby said.
“And if we pull on the wrong one,” Harper said darkly, “we’ll bring the rest of the pile down.”
“I guess a crane is out of the question.”
“Even if we could get a backhoe in here, I don’t think we want to leave them in there for days, and that’s how long it would be. Besides, the debris is going to shift. Right now they’re not injured, and we want to keep it that way.”
“You’re right.” Abby couldn’t imagine standing around doing nothing while Blake and the others were trapped inside. She had to trust that Flann had somehow kept them all safe. And she had to trust Harper to get to them. “Where do we start?”
“We find the shortest way in to them and then we can clear a tunnel so they can crawl out without shifting everything above them. If I know Flann, she’s got them close to that upright.”
“Mom,” Blake called back. “We’re here!”
The sound of his voice stilled the last remnants of panic. She knew what to do in a crisis—she’d spent her life training for them. She also knew how to work in a team when she didn’t know as much as her colleagues. She looked over at Harper. “They don’t seem very far away.”
“Good.” Harper tossed her a pair of leather work gloves, crouched down, and switched on a big utility light. “Flann? What’s the situation?”
“I’m pinned down. Feels like a big beam. The kids are closer to the upright. Get them first.”
“Can you see light anywhere?” Harper called, shining the beam over the jumble of wood and stone.
“No,” Flann called.
“Wait,” Blake said. “I think—”
Harper played her light again over the same area, more slowly. “Now?”
“Yes,” Blake shouted. “I can see it.”
Harper retraced the same course even more slowly. “Call out as soon as you—”
“Now,” Blake and Margie yelled simultaneously.
Abby’s heart lifted. They were there, so close. “We’re coming to get you.”
“Be careful,” Flann yelled. “We don’t need the two of you getting buried too.”
Harper muttered, “Always has to be giving the orders.”
“Thank God she was with them.” Abby kept seeing Flann forcing her way through the wind and flying debris toward the barn while she scurried toward the safety of the cellar. Flann had been right to force her inside—she wouldn’t have known how to keep the kids safe. “Let’s get them out.”
Harper pointed to the base of the pile. “We start at the periphery and work our way in. Slowly and carefully, we’ll make a pathway toward the spot where Blake saw the light. One board at a time, move it aside, don’t pull out anything that’s stuck underneath. Only things that look free. This is not the time to hurry.”
“I understand.” Abby tugged on the gloves, just as she did when preparing for the arrival of a trauma patient in the ER. No matter what was coming, no matter what she needed to do, she’d do it. She didn’t think about time, or how much was passing. She didn’t let the cold or the pain from bruised shins, sore shoulders, or aching muscles distract her. She forced herself to go slow, lifting broken tree limbs, splintered boards, and sheets of crumpled tin, one piece at a time. Harper worked silently beside her, bracing the sides of the emerging tunnel with chunks of wood as they slowly made their way toward the upright.
“How are you doing?” Harper called when they’d cleared an area three feet wide and five feet long.
“Your light is brighter,” Margie called back.
“Good. Don’t try to move anything from your side until we tell you to.”
A sharp creaking sound emanated from somewhere inside the building and a shower of slate cascaded off the collapsed roof. Harper grabbed Abby and pulled her back. Stone splintered around them, and the building shuddered. Rock chips flew, several scoring Abby’s bare legs. She gasped, waiting for the pile in front of them to rain down on the kids and Flann. The upright shuddered but nothing shifted.
“Everybody all right?” Harper called.
“It’s getting a little tight in here,” Flann called back. “It sounds like you’re only a few feet away. I’d make haste.”
Harper smiled grimly and yelled back, “You always were impatient. Just relax, and everybody stay still.” She glanced at Abby and murmured, “Go as quickly as you can.”
Abby crushed the urge to yank half-buried boards out of the way. Look, evaluate, assess. Just like in the ER. When you rushed, you missed things. Lift, carry, throw. She kept at it, shoulder to shoulder with Harper.
Presley climbed down to join them, carrying sweatshirts. “You two should put these on—you’re both soaking wet. I put blankets in the ATV for the others.”
Abby welcomed the warmth, not realizing she’d been cold until she wasn’t any longer.
“Any news?” Harper asked, going back to work.
“Cell reception is spotty. I couldn’t reach your parents or the hospital, but I got a couple of others on the emergency communications tree who will start calling everyone to report to the hospital. I need to go too, as soon as we get them out.”
“We’re close now,” Abby said.
“I can see shadows moving,” Margie yelled.
Relief poured through Abby’s chest so fast she felt light-headed. “Soon!”
“Almost there,” Harper said. “Are we coming right for you?”
“A little to your left.”
“Okay. Don’t move yet.”
Abby lifted aside a two-by-four and cried out. A hand appeared in the space she’d made. Small and pale and beautiful. She knelt, grasped the fingers. “Margie?”
“Hi, Abby,” Margie called back.
“Almost there, sweetie. Just another minute.”
Abby hated to let go of those fingers, but she had to. Harper crouched beside her and they passed rubble back to Presley, cleared a path until Margie’s face appeared at the end of the tunnel. Her face was streaked with dirt and a purple bruise blossomed on her left cheek. Her eyes were dry, and her smile wide.
“Can I come out now?”
“Nice and easy,” Harper said.
Margie shimmied toward them, arms outstretched. When her shoulders appeared, Abby and Harper grabbed on and pulled her all the way out.
“Presley, take her to the ATV and get her warm,” Harper said.
“I can help—”
“Go. Don’t get any wetter than you already are.”
Reluctantly, Margie let Presley lead her up the slope to the vehicle.
Abby inched deeper into the tunnel. “Blake, can you see the way?”
Blake’s head appeared in the tunnel. His hair was caked with dirt and blood smeared the side of his neck. Not much blood, but the sight of it made Abby bite her lip. She forced a smile.
“Hi, baby.”
“Jeez, Mom, come on,” Blake said, his eyes shining.
“Sorry, I forgot. Come on out of there.”
“Here…” Blake pushed the partially crumpled cardboard box out first. “Be careful they don’t get wet.”
Abby’s throat closed and she nodded, passing the chicks back to Presley. “Now you.”
Abby held her breath as he inched toward them. His shoulder dislodged a board and several more sluiced down from the heap. Abby twisted aside as one barely missed her head. Blake’s eyes widened.
“Mom?”
“It’s okay,” Harper said. “Keep coming.”
Abby reached for his hand and, when she clasped his fingers, fought the urge to pull him all the way out. She let him come to her, but it was the longest wait she’d ever experienced. At last he was free, and she hugged him close, checking him with quick strokes for damage.
“I’m good, Mom,” Blake finally said, pulling away.
“Go get in the ATV with Margie. You kids try to keep warm.”
Blake didn’t move. “What about Flann—”
“We’ll get her,” Abby said. “Go on now.”
Blake looked back one last time, then stumbled over the littered ground to the ATV. Margie held out a hand and he climbed in next to her, sliding his arm around her shoulders. They cradled the box between them, their heads close.
“Flann, your turn,” Harper called.
“I can’t,” Flann said. “I can’t move.”
Abby’s throat closed. Oh God. Harper’s face blanked, her body freezing in place. Evaluate, assess, act.
Ab
by crouched and peered into the tunnel. “Can you feel both legs?”
“Yes, it’s—”
“Any numbness or tingling?”
“It’s not my spine. I’m pinned by something.”
Abby heard Harper start breathing again.
“Any other injuries?” Abby said.
“I don’t think so. Something’s bleeding, but not a lot.”
“Jesus,” Harper said. Her face paled, and for the first time, Abby saw panic in her eyes.
“Harper,” she said sharply, “it’s not serious. But we need to get her out of there.”
Harper shuddered, and her gaze cleared. She let out a long breath. “We need to make sure the tunnel doesn’t collapse. I’m going to get her.”
“It’s not big enough for you,” Abby said.
“Then we’ll make it bigger.”
They went back to work, widening the path into the depths of debris, shoving blocks of wood under canted uprights to keep the structure from shifting. Abby followed Harper, holding the light. An endless time later, Flann’s face appeared, ghostly and pale.
“Hey.” Flann grinned and the cold, hard fist in Abby’s chest eased.
“Hey, yourself,” Harper said. “Abby, I need a two-by-four about five feet long.”
“Right.” Abby braced the light between two boards in the rubble, called out to Presley what they needed, and backed out.
“Here,” Presley said a moment later, passing her a wet length of wood. “Is she all right?”
“I think so.” Abby crawled back in with the board. “Harper—here.”
“There’s a big beam across your left leg, Flann. I’ll lever it up and you need to crawl toward me.”
“If you move things,” Flann said, “this whole thing might come down.”
“We’ll go slow.”
“Leave me. When you get more people, you can take this thing apart from the top down.”
“It’ll be a day. I’m not leaving you in there.”
“It’s not gonna help for both of us—”
Abby’s frayed nerves snapped. “The two of you, hush. Harper, how long before you can get more help?”
“Twelve hours minimum, maybe a day.”