Survive the Journey (EMP

by Grace Hamilton

  “Thanks, Emma,” she said, after a moment. “The red raspberry leaf tea wasn’t bad. Don’t get me wrong. It just smelled like dirt.”

  “Oh, I know, it’s not the best aroma,” Emma replied. “I guess it’s more like medicine than a recreational beverage.”

  “A recreational beverage,” Justine echoed, with a shake of her head. “Now you’re talking about something else altogether.” She raised the cup to her lips and sipped it.

  “Well?” Emma asked. “You can be honest.”

  “It’s decent,” Justine said. “I can drink this. Thanks.”

  Beaming, Emma rose and went back to the camp stove to kill the flame. Darryl had helped Justine sit up, but she was leaning against him heavily. She’d cried from the pain in her back and feet, so her eyes were red and puffy.

  “Pregnancy is a heck of a lot more uncomfortable than I expected,” she said, then took another sip of tea. “I want it to be over, but at the same time, I’m terrified of the birth. Next time, you carry the baby, okay?”

  “I would if I could,” he said.

  She gave him a dubious look. “That’s a bold claim.”

  “One you have no way of refuting,” he joked. “But, on a serious note, it’s clearly not a good time to be dragging you over a mountain,” he said. “We should have waited a few more weeks.”

  “A few more weeks? Then I’d likely be giving birth in that damp cave with all the spiders. No thanks. We made the right choice, and, hey, sometimes the right choice sucks. That’s all there is to it.” She took another sip, but he could tell she wasn’t enjoying the tea. She discreetly set the cup down, spilling a bit of it in the process.

  “Well, you heard my dad,” Darryl said. “We’re taking the faster route, so we’ll get to the cabin soon.”

  “Good,” she said. “Just roll me down the mountain, and I’ll meet you at the bottom.”

  They rested for an hour, perhaps a little longer, then Greg finally called everyone to start packing up and getting ready to move out. It was early afternoon, and Tabitha seemed to think they might reach the cabin by nightfall if they didn’t encounter any problems. Darryl certainly hoped she was right.

  Getting Justine back into the saddle was no easy effort. By the time they decided to set off again, the swelling in her feet had gone down considerably—though whether this was from the tea or the simple passage of time, Darryl didn’t know. However, she still couldn’t comfortably walk, so Darryl hoisted her off the ground. In truth, he kind of liked it. There was something protective about holding her in his arms this way that appealed to him. It wasn’t worth her suffering, of course.

  “I hope you’re getting used to this,” Justine said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I see a lot of swollen feet in the near future.”

  “Hey, whatever you need,” he replied. “I’ll carry you anytime.”

  “Wow, lucky me,” she said. “I’ve got my very own porter to lug me around like the dead weight I am.”

  Without having to be asked, Emma ran and got the foot ladder, setting it up beside Justine’s horse. The animal seemed well-rested. It had had plenty to drink, cropped some grass, and now had the twitchy energy of a horse that was prepared to hit the road. Darryl climbed the ladder one careful step at a time and delicately placed Justine in the saddle. She only grunted in pain once.

  “How do you feel up there?” he asked her.

  She reached back and pressed a gloved hand against the small of her back. “A little stiff and sore, but not too bad otherwise. My stomach is settled. I thought that tea would come right back up, but it didn’t.” At this, she turned and found Emma and gave her another thumbs-up.

  Marion joined her in the saddle, settling herself carefully behind Justine to avoid jostling the baby. Then the others loaded up and prepared to leave. The lead cow was attached to its line, the travois were harnessed to the horses. Horace and Tabitha had gotten a bit of their strength back, but they both struggled to get in the saddle. Greg and Darryl had to help them. When they finally set off, there was some question if the herd would actually follow. Darryl looked back and saw some of the cows still wandering about. However, as they turned left and moved beyond the fork in the road, the herd began to slowly gather and move in their direction.

  Darryl held the reins for Justine’s horse, guiding it down the path, but it didn’t need much coaxing. Ahead, the trail followed the river, cutting at an angle down the slope along rocky ground until it reached a bend far below and turned farther to the east into the trees. In the places where the river had eaten away at the edges they were forced to ride single file. Loose rocks littered the trail.

  They’ve gone maybe two or three hundred meters down the trail when Greg, who was walking beside Tabitha and Marion, headed back to the herd.

  “Where are you going?” Marion asked.

  “We’re losing some of the cows,” he replied. “The slippery ground is unnerving them. I’ll try to coax them back. Keep going. Darryl and Emma have the lead.”

  He was gone maybe half an hour when he returned, scowling darkly and knocking dirt and rocks off his sleeves.

  “Have any luck?” Marion asked from the saddle.

  “It’s too much for one person,” he said. He thrust his staff at Darryl. “You and Emma take over. Give me the reins. You guys go back and try to keep the cows in line, or we’re going to lose half the herd. They hate this trail. Two might be able to handle it.”

  Darryl didn’t relish the idea of chasing down cows. Then again, he didn’t want to lose more of the herd. Justine would need the meat and milk. He handed his reins to his father, beckoned Emma, and headed back to the herd. It didn’t take long to see the problem. The herd was stretched out in a long line on the narrow trail, and some were getting distracted. He could see a few that had stopped in their tracks, as if confused or nervous. He began calling to them as he headed back up the trail. Emma moved around to the other side, sneaking around behind the ones that had stopped and coaxing them to move forward. It took a while, but eventually they got every cow moving again.

  “These cows are smart when they want to be,” Emma noted, “and other times, they’re dumber than fence posts.”

  “The only dumb animals around here are the people trying to herd cattle on foot,” Darryl replied. “If we make it to the cabin with three cows left, I’ll consider it a victory.”

  “It didn’t seem so hard when we had the wagon,” Emma said.

  “When we had the wagon, we weren’t trying to go over a mountain,” Darryl said. “There’s a reason why cowboys rode on horses.”

  “Ancient humans herded cattle on foot for thousands of years,” Emma noted. “If they can do it, we can do it.”

  “Is this about Denisovans again?” he said. “I don’t know why you and Justine find that so funny.”

  “It’s our inside joke. You wouldn’t understand.”

  They herded the cattle along until Darryl realized that the horses had come to a stop. As he worked his way back to the front of the caravan, he noted that a large barrel had come loose on the travois. He pushed it back into position and tightened its strap. As he did, Emma called his name. When he turned around, he saw that she was still way at the back of the herd, and she seemed to be staring into the trees on the side of the road across from the river. He started back to join her.

  “Don’t tell me one of the cows managed to squeeze herself past the trees,” he said.

  “No, look at this,” she called, pointing at something.

  When he got close to her, he realized what she was pointing at. A swath of trees just beyond the road had toppled over. It looked like something had pushed them, lining them up neatly so they all fell in the same direction, tops pointed away from the road.

  “That’s weird,” he said. They had been pushed in a wedge shape, almost like a bulldozer had driven into them.

  “It looks deliberate,” she said. “Should we investigate?”

  “What do you mean by investiga
te?” he asked.

  “Go in closer and see if we can figure out what pushed them over.”

  The caravan was still stopped. Up near the horses, Greg, Marion, and Tabitha were in deep discussion. Darryl felt torn between seeing what that was about and helping Emma.

  “Okay, fine, let’s take a quick look,” Darryl said, heading to the edge of the trail.

  “If the pass was snowed in all winter, no one could have reached this part of the trail to knock the trees over, could they?” Emma asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe it was a lurking Denisovan.”

  “Hey, that’s not your in-joke. No stealing.” His sister gave him a playful smack on the arm.

  As soon as Darryl stepped off the road, his boot squished in thick mud. He dared a few steps before the mud became treacherous, and then he stopped. He thrust the hiking stick into the ground, and it became clear that the ground here was absolutely saturated with water. As for the trees, there was no sign of damage to the trunks, and the roots were mostly intact. Emma stepped up beside him, struggling to move through the mud. She squatted down beside the nearest roots. Reaching down, she pressed her gloved hand to the muddy ground beside the roots and water pooled up around her fingers.

  “People didn’t do this,” she said.

  “Maybe a storm?” he suggested. “A strong wind?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” she replied. “With the ground this wet, I think the river flooded recently. The roots just lost their grip on the soil. That’s also why some of the trail is eaten away. I bet the river has been flooding periodically because of all the snow melt up on the peaks.”

  Darryl felt a flutter of fear. He met his sister’s anxious gaze.

  “Flash floods can hit really quick,” she said. “I’ve read about them. We’re practically trapped on this trail. If a surge comes down the mountain, we wouldn’t have anywhere to go. We could all be swept away in seconds.”

  Suddenly a vivid image of precisely this filled Darryl’s mind. A great wall of water rushing down from the heights, sweeping over the trail, dragging away cows and horses, people and possessions, churning them violently against the rocks.

  “We’d better warn the others,” he said. “Come on.”

  He backed out of the soupy mud, returned to the trail, and headed to the front of the caravan, trying to drive the nightmare image out of his mind.

  8

  When Darryl reached the horses, he saw the reason for the holdup. Large rocks were piled up in the middle of the road. Though the whole trail had been rocky, these were practically boulders, and there was quite a bit of debris caught between them. More evidence of flooding. Greg was currently trying to move the rocks out of the way all by himself, but Darryl rushed to join him.

  “Let me come down and help you,” Marion said. “Those are too big. You’re going to throw your back out.”

  “I’m fine, I told you,” Greg said. “My big, strapping son is here to help.”

  Working together, they hoisted a large rock that felt like it was at least fifty kilos. The underside was still wet, as if it had been tossed onto the road only recently, and there were bits of wood, sticks, and blobs of drying mud all over it. They had to coordinate their steps in order to move it off the trail without dropping it. Finally, they barely managed to heave it into the underbrush, where it crashed loudly.

  “Did you tell him?” Emma said, running up behind them then. “Dad, we saw evidence of recent flooding back there.”

  Greg rose and wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his coat. “You mean, like this?” He gestured at the edge of the trail, which was jagged and uneven. “It looks like the river occasionally rises and washes away the edge of the trail. We’ll have to be real careful not to step too close.”

  He stooped down to pick up another rock. This one didn’t require Darryl’s help, so Darryl grabbed a large broken branch instead, tossing it aside.

  “No, there’s some indication that the water has risen high enough to cover the entire trail,” Darryl said. “The ground is so saturated in some places, that the river current just pushed over the trees. At least, that’s what we think happened.”

  Greg tossed the rock into the trees and turned to face his children. Darryl could tell he was troubled by this news. Indeed, it seemed as if their discovery had confirmed something he was already worried about. He chewed anxiously at his lower lip, then dragged his fingers through his blondish hair—classic signs that Greg Healy was afraid.

  “Tabitha, do you know anything about the river flooding?” he asked.

  Darryl was surprised to see Tabitha resting her face against Horace’s back. Their long ride together had certainly made them more comfortable with one another. Grandma still looked completely exhausted.

  “I’ve never seen this river flood,” she said. “Of course, Tuck and I never came here at this time of year. I suppose if an ice dam broke somewhere upstream, it might cause a problem.”

  Greg sighed deeply and glanced at his wife, shaking his head. “Should have gone with your first choice,” he said. “Safety over speed. Maybe I just shouldn’t have a vote from now on.”

  “Oh, stop it,” Marion replied. “We made the decision together, and we all agreed to it. We can’t turn back now, so let’s just clear the road and keep going.”

  Justine was grimacing and taking deep breaths, as she did when she was trying to settle her stomach. The awful image of raging floodwaters still lingered in Darryl’s mind. He couldn’t bear the thought of it. The mere possibility made him sick. He helped his father clear the trail with renewed vigor, and now Emma joined them. Moving fast, they dragged and tossed and pulled the debris off the trail. The largest of the rocks couldn’t be picked up, not even by the three of them working together. Finally, they decided to roll it into the river. It dropped over the jagged edge, taking a bit more of the trail with it, and hit the murky waters with a violent splash.

  “That’s it,” Greg said. “We’re clear. Let’s pick up the pace. We’re not going to stop for every cow that wanders off. Too much is at stake.”

  And with that, he picked up one set of reins and handed it to Darryl, trading him for the hiking stick. Emma grabbed the other reins before Greg could get them. Ahead, the trail hit a bend and the slope evened out, curving back to the right before heading into deep woods. After that, it disappeared behind a large outcropping of rock.

  Horace spoke then. “Maybe we should leave the trail altogether.” The old guy hadn’t said much for the last few hours. Indeed, about an hour into the trip, he’d become listless and miserable, but he spoke forcefully now, as if screwing up his courage.

  “How would we do that?” Greg asked. “We are essentially boxed in. Trees on the left, water on the right.”

  “We could cut our way into the forest on the left,” Horace said, pointing at the dense line of trees and underbrush that grew up to the edge of the trail. “The land slopes upward in there. I know it’ll take time to carve a new trail, but it’ll put us higher above the water.”

  “I doubt we have the tools to do that,” Greg said. “These big evergreens aren’t coming down without an axe, which we don’t have.”

  Darryl was staring at the jagged edge where the big rock had rolled off into the water. He didn’t like how rough the water looked. It wasn’t a particularly broad river, but he could tell the current was strong. Indeed, he thought it had actually gotten a bit stronger over the last hour or so.

  “Surely, we could find a way to get in there,” Horace said. “We’re a resourceful bunch. I just think it would be wise to reach higher ground.”

  “Let’s just get moving,” Tabitha said. “We chose this trail because it’s faster, so let’s take advantage of that.”

  “I think you’re right, Mom,” Greg said.

  Darryl tugged on the reins, and Justine’s big draft horse began to move. However, he was still staring at the water. Yes, it had changed, and more than he’d first realized. The color of the
water was darker, full of debris, even small bits of ice.

  If not for their discovery earlier, he would have dismissed this out of hand. Now, however, it caused a surge of fear. No, it wasn’t just muddier. It was actually higher. He was sure of it. The water had crept up closer to the road. Darryl dropped the reins and stepped past Emma toward the edge of the road. He looked upstream and saw the churning water running down the slope. If it had risen, it wasn’t much. Looking back the way they’d come, he didn’t see anything particularly alarming.

  Maybe I just imagined it, he thought. The river is fine.

  “Darryl, we’re okay,” Greg said. “Take the reins. I’ll keep an eye on the water.”

  Darryl walked back to his horse, trading a brief, troubled glance with Emma. Then he picked up the reins and tugged on them, getting the horse moving. His father took his place on the edge of trail, walking with the stick.

  “Be careful the ground doesn’t collapse under your feet,” Marion said.

  “I’ll be careful,” Greg said, glancing over his shoulder at the river.

  Darryl felt a little better once they were moving again. They reached the place where the slope evened out, which made the trail a little easier to navigate. However, he noted that the spaces in between the trees here were absolutely choked with debris—another sign of flooding, perhaps? He traded another anxious look with Emma.

  “I never thought I would miss that cave,” she said, quietly enough that only Darryl heard.

  “You and me both,” he replied. “At least the cave never flooded.”

  Emma started to say something else, but he didn’t hear the words. At first, he thought she’d just spoken too quietly. Then he realized the background noise had gotten louder. With this realization came an awareness of some faint tingling in the soles of his feet. The ground was shaking ever so slightly. Darryl tossed the reins down again and moved to join his father, ducking under Emma’s reins. His father had turned to look upstream.

  “What is it?” Darryl asked.

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