A Grave Tree
Page 25
The walls pressed close to Mark’s girth, and he felt a twinge of claustrophobic nausea. If the passageway got any narrower, he’d have to turn sideways to pass. Caleb’s shoulders filled the space ahead of him, broader somehow now than Mark’s own. How had Caleb gotten older and Sandy gotten younger? It had become a topsy-turvy world.
The short tunnel led to another small room. Packages of the rations that Digby had brought Mark sat on shelves lining the walls—and to Mark’s dismay, two full scuba suits occupied another set of shelves. There were other supplies, too: candles, matches, a couple of blankets, and what looked like a first aid kit.
By Mark’s estimation, they’d headed directly through the dam to the other side—the side fronting onto the reservoir. The outlines of another door were etched into the wall of the small room. Did it lead to another antechamber, and then a door that went out into the reservoir? Was that why the scuba suits were necessary? The reservoir wasn’t completely full (at least it hadn’t been earlier in the day), but the Granton Dam was tall and narrow, occupying the spot where a waterfall had once cascaded between two of the Stairway Mountains, which meant the reservoir, when full, was very deep.
Caleb was already checking the air in the scuba tanks with a pressure gauge. A chunk of one of the ration bars stuck out of his mouth. “The tanks are empty,” he announced, removing the bar. “We could probably hold our breath though. I don’t think the reservoir could be full.”
“The turbines…” Mark said in a half moan.
Caleb removed a long cylindrical object with a propeller from one of the shelves and flipped a switch with no results. He inspected it more closely. “It has a plug, just like the one on the wall. I think we can use the cable to charge the battery. It’ll pull us away from the intake grate, especially if we cut along the dam wall and to the surface. The current should be lower there.”
Caleb started to fumble around in the flowered handbag that hung off his muscled arm, clearly looking for the booster cable. Mark took a step backward. Being a human lightning rod once was one thing, but twice… and then jumping out into the reservoir? He was beginning to think that taking his chances swimming in the churn of the spillways would be preferable.
But Caleb had already plugged the “output end” of the cable into the propeller unit and had pressed one of the two “input ends” against his own chest. He held out the remaining input to Mark.
Mark moaned again. The entire dam structure was vibrating now and seemed on the verge of collapse. He took the cable and pressed it to his heart, wondering how long it would be before he was entirely drained of energy, how long it took for his body to recharge, and where it drew its power.
(He’d probably have a long time to recharge while pressed motionless against the intake grate of the dam.)
It didn’t take much energy for the propeller unit to whir to life. Caleb flipped it off. Then he returned the cable to the handbag and withdrew two bags from the shelves. He held one out to Mark. “Dry bags,” he said. “Only pack essentials. You’re going to have to leave some stuff behind.”
Mark clutched the straps of his backpack. It seemed like a trusty acquaintance that had been with him for this whole terrible adventure. He couldn’t imagine leaving any part of it behind, but Caleb nodded his head firmly as if he could read Mark’s mind. “You should probably put your watch in as well.”
“It’s waterproof to fifty meters,” Mark said automatically, flicking a glance at his Garmin Forerunner, as if he actually planned to join Caleb in leaping out into the reservoir instead of staying huddled in the dam until someone saved him. The reservoir couldn’t be more than fifty meters deep, could it? The fear felt sharp and acrid in his mouth. Caleb had already loaded the contents of his mother’s handbag into his dry bag. Could he ask Caleb to go alone and then turn off the spillways so he could leave through the door on the other side of the dam? Warrior Mark wouldn’t do that.
He examined the dry bag. It was very small. His beloved satchel wouldn’t fit. Reluctantly, he withdrew his maps, drawings, best pencil, and gold tunnel key from his satchel. He stowed them in the bag and then put three of the ration bars at the top. The cube magnet thing sat on the floor, and Mark picked it up to examine it. There was a set of tiny hinges on one of the corners, like it was a box that could be opened.
“I hope Digby can swim,” Caleb said.
It occurred to Mark that he didn’t know how to swim. He’d splashed around in the pool until he was nine in his special lessons, but he hadn’t learned a single thing.
Caleb donned a pair of goggles, slung his dry bag on his back, and carried the propeller unit to the door on the other side of the room. He nodded to Mark, and gestured at the pentagon on the door. “I expect it takes the same key as the outer door.”
Mark obediently withdrew his key, inserted it in the lock and, bracing for an onslaught of water, opened the door a crack. But it only led into an antechamber much like the one on the other side of the dam. Except here, instead of a door, was a round metal hatch, three feet high. Digby nosed all around it, his sleek fur glossy in the beam of the flashlight.
“I expect we have to lie down and propeller our way out as the water comes in,” Caleb said. “As soon as we’re out, we need to be prepared to steer the unit to the left so we go up along the wall of the dam. I’m pretty sure the intake is to our right. I think I can sense it.” He positioned himself on the floor and pulled his goggles into place.
Mark swallowed and found nothing in his mouth. He was putting his life in the hands of Caleb’s senses. What if the intake was to the left? He took one last look at his satchel, shoved the cube in his dry bag, and grabbed his own pair of goggles.
*****
The spear struck Russell in the rump, and the big cat screamed in agony and anger and took off into the trees, the spear protruding from his side. Abbey’s heart pummeled against her rib cage, and she dropped to the ground, skinning her knees as she went, and grabbed frantically at the air, trying to knit a screen of invisibility. Three men in furs appeared, making whoops of delight, their spears raised. They glanced in her direction with curious expressions, but ignored her and continued after Russell.
Abbey rose to her feet, her heart a bass drum in her chest. They would kill Russell, then skin him and wear him.
Sylvain lurked in the trees fifty meters away, folding and unfolding his long fingers.
“We need to help Russell,” Abbey declared.
“Russell can run far faster and more efficiently than we can,” Sylvain said. “And he’s helping us by drawing those men off. Our best chance of helping him is to collect everyone else and get home.”
Abbey drew her hands into fists. “He’s bleeding,” she said. “He might be dying.”
“And we’re entirely without weapons,” Sylvain replied. “Even if we did have them, neither you nor I have any idea how to use them.”
“Then what we’re doing—traveling to the future—is entirely unsafe,” Abbey snapped.
Sylvain gave her a hard look. “I agree, and if you don’t recall, I gave you firm orders to remain in my cabin while I was retrieving Jake. And now it seems we’ve lost both Russell and Jake.”
Abbey winced at the stab of responsibility, of actual fault, that ran through her. She and Caleb had caused this. They had tied Russell up and escaped from Sylvain’s cabin. They had come to the future with Ian, throwing everyone’s lives, including their own, into danger.
Sylvain softened his voice. “We’re almost there. I think I can hear something.”
Abbey paused to listen and heard the echo of water in the distance. Lots of water.
They scrambled in the direction of the sound. Abbey kept her ears pricked for the sound of a panther scream, but instead the rumble of water grew louder and louder, and the air started to feel heavier with moisture. They emerged on a bank ten meters above a reservoir that Abbey didn’t recognize.
Water thundered through a wide gap
in a crude cement wall that blocked the river. Rebar posts poked skyward out of the broken section of the wall and water surged around them. A three-story building with a platform attached to the diversion occupied the opposite riverbank. Judging from the shape of the current, there were intakes beneath the platform. So this was the diversion that Caleb’s people had been talking about. The diversion that Quinta had built, now crumbling. Had Caleb’s men destroyed it?
After staring for a second, Sylvain pulled Abbey back into the trees. Human figures stood in the shadows of the trees on the far riverbank behind the building attached to the diversion. Caleb’s people, their spears aloft. She could only see about thirty of them. Were the rest of them hidden by the building? They didn’t seem to be fighting anyone.
The tempo of her heartbeats accelerated painfully when she saw that several bodies lay lined up in a row on the ground. She combed the living and the dead for a glint of red hair, for Caleb, and then for Ian, who she hoped might be protecting Caleb, but she didn’t see either of them.
Where was Caleb, and why was everyone standing so still?
A big chunk of the diversion came loose and toppled into the raging water below.
A door on the building flew open. Abbey and Sylvain automatically shrank deeper into the trees, but it was only Ian who emerged. He gave a quick look around the platform, then started to methodically scan the forest in which Abbey and Sylvain hid, as if he knew they were there. He gave a wild wave in their direction and beckoned them.
Sylvain pointed to the thundering cascade of water and raised his hands as if to ask Ian what he expected them to do.
*****
The water that poured in the door was like ice. Digby squealed in alarm and launched down a drainpipe. Mark feared that the rat would be immediately killed by the rush of water that would soon fill the pipe, but the frigid water nearly took his breath away, and his more immediate problem was keeping his fingers curled around the handle of the propeller unit.
As soon as the water was two feet deep—which was alarmingly soon—Caleb flicked the propeller unit on. Somehow it pulled them forward against the strong current, and Mark found himself moving out of the room and into the murky reservoir. He felt Caleb trying to pull the propeller unit to the left, and he tried to help, but the force of the water moving into the room was so strong, they made little headway at first. But bit by bit they managed to edge the unit out of the current, and the dark wall of the dam came into sight.
Mark’s lungs felt like they were going to explode. With the shock of the cold water, and his general overall terror, he’d forgotten to take a deep breath before Caleb opened the hatch. His lungs now prickled with the need for oxygen, and he was beginning to feel light-headed. What if Caleb was wrong and the intake was to the left? They’d both be dead.
Somehow, to his underwater oxygen-deprived brain, this seemed acceptable, as if being pressed against the intake grate, his lungs full of water, until the bacteria in his gut produced enough methane and carbon dioxide to float him to the surface, was inevitable, and he just had to wait for it to happen.
Caleb started to steer the propeller unit up, and Mark, with what little strength he had remaining—the energy transfers had been more draining than he’d thought—did his best to help, expecting at any second to be sucked in by the pull of the intake grate. But the water was growing lighter in color, and Mark knew this meant they were nearing the surface. His lungs burned and his mouth strained to open, to gasp in air that wasn’t there. He clenched his teeth and felt his lips pucker against them. His dry bag, looped around his shoulder, seemed to have grown heavier and heavier. It was cutting off the circulation in his shoulder. He wasn’t going to make it.
He felt his hands loosening on the propeller unit and then letting go. His mouth fell open. He gagged on water.
Something tugged sharply on the back of his shirt, pulling him along, and then he and Caleb broke the surface, and Mark coughed and sputtered and breathed in oxygen while Caleb towed him toward the shore behind the propeller unit.
Mark’s clothes and body felt leaden, and he started shivering from the cold. The pull from the dam intake felt stronger at the surface. How was Caleb even hanging on to him and the propeller unit?
“Mark, it would be really helpful if you could grab the unit again, or at least kick your feet. You weigh a ton,” Caleb said through gritted teeth.
Mark obediently tried to kick and flap his arms like he thought he’d been taught in swim lessons, but his arms only succeeded in striking Caleb and the unit. He was sinking; the dry bag, which should have been buoyant, was pulling him under like an anchor. He should have worn a lifejacket. There had been lifejackets in the room, but he’d been afraid they would pull him up too fast and that somehow that would result in him getting caught in the intake current.
They were almost pressed against the dam wall now, and the propeller unit engine seemed to be sputtering. It was out of batteries. It was going to die. And then they were going to die. Mark started struggling even more.
“Mark! Stop! You’re going to kill us both.” Caleb’s long red hair hung in strands down his white face. “Why are you so heavy? What’s in your dry bag? You have to drop it.”
His maps. His maps and his drawings were in the dry bag, along with that cube. There was no way he was dropping it. He wrenched his head from side to side. “My maps,” he yelped. “And the drawings from my mother.”
Caleb’s eyes were wide and strained. “Then I need you to do your energy wave one more time. Concentrate on pushing us to shore. I can’t do it. I’ve just tried. Please.”
The propeller unit gave one last choking spin, then stopped. The air was suddenly ominously silent, save for the rumble of falling water on the other side of the dam.
Mark’s breath came in labored pants interspersed with violent shivers. His throat ached and he felt more exhausted than he ever had in his life. He tried to summon something—anything—like Caleb requested, but his body was empty, drained.
Caleb’s fingers loosened and slipped off Mark’s shirt at the scruff of his neck. Immediately Mark started to sink beneath the surface of the water. He was too tired.
“Mark!” Caleb yelled, reaching for Mark, but Mark had already moved too far away.
Suddenly Mark felt a giant rush of energy at his back. He was propelled forward and upward toward the side of the reservoir. Caleb thrashed through the water next to him, clearly being pushed by the same tide. Caleb broke into a graceful front crawl and Mark tried to copy his movements. Another wave of energy rushed through the water, carrying them forward on the swell. And then they were at the edge of the reservoir and Caleb was pulling him out of the water and they had somehow survived.
“That was sick,” Caleb said. “You saved us!”
Mark could only shake his head and lie back against the sloping side of the reservoir.
He hadn’t saved them.
*****
What was going on? Were Caleb’s men standing sentry, trapping Ian and whoever was with him? Or were they guarding them? Was Caleb inside too, or was he waiting for her down at Skull Rock, where she was supposed to meet him? And where was Jake?
It was starting to get dark, the sun having dipped below the mountains a few minutes before.
Abbey’s mind ran through the myriad of ways she and Sylvain could get across the reservoir. Going upstream and swimming where the current was less strong was an option, provided the entire diversion didn’t collapse. But the reservoir was at least three hundred meters across as far as she could see, and it was probably freezing. How far upstream would they have to go before they could find a narrower point to cross? Precious time would be lost, and even if they were able to get across, would they be allowed through the lineup of men wielding spears and crossbows? Sylvain wouldn’t, that was for sure. They could try to cross the river below the diversion, but the current was too strong—and they’d still have the same problem with regard to
getting around Caleb’s men.
That left walking across the diversion itself. The water passing over top of it had diminished while they stood there, and the reservoir level had dropped. Assuming that no more bits of the diversion crumbled off—which was a risky assumption—they might be able to cross the jagged cement on foot soon. And the bits of rebar that stuck up out of the diversion could be used as handholds. But they were too far apart—and too unevenly spaced—for someone to be able to cross and always have a hold. And the whole thing looked so poorly engineered that it could go at any second.
Still, she had to get across the river. Caleb might be in danger.
“I’m going farther up,” she said. “To see if I can swim across.” She turned and started to march up the edge of the reservoir.
“Wait!” Sylvain called quietly.
“Don’t you dare try to talk me out of it,” she said over her shoulder. “We can’t just abandon everyone.”
“I see your brother and Mark.”
Abbey whirled, scanning the intake building and diversion for signs of Caleb, but Sylvain was pointing downriver, and she spotted Caleb’s wild red hair bobbing slowly up the hill with Mark behind him.
Caleb. Alive.
She flew the fifty meters down the hill and nearly launched herself at Caleb, but that seemed weird all of a sudden, and he was soaking wet, so she settled for grabbing at his arm and patting it enthusiastically.
“I was afraid you were dead, or in that building,” she said. “Why are you drenched?”
“Mark and I went for a swim,” Caleb said. “I see you were able to rescue Sylvain.”
“Yeah, and Russell’s a panther,” Abbey said. “I’m not kidding.”
“Fantastic,” Caleb said. “What’s happening on the diversion? I think my men might have dumped me after Sandy informed them that I’ve been using a magic fountain of youth. They don’t like the idea of magic at all. But you should see Mark. He can throw energy. He’s like an air bender. And he can send his head into another room or another place. He was with us when we were in the rowboat going down the Moon River. I could sense him. That’s how he heard what was going on in Sylvain’s office when Ian was there. It’s unbelievable.” He clapped Mark hard on the shoulder, and Mark staggered away a bit, wearing an uncomfortable and forced-looking smile.