“Grab that rope and see if you can help the machine get it up!”
Dad was yelling at me from the bottom of the pit, but I was having a hard time hearing him. Finally, after shutting off the machine that was helping to haul mud out of the bottom, I realized that the levy had gotten stuck. Grabbing the rope he’d pointed to, I flipped the switch back on and pulled with all my might. Thankfully, everything started moving as it should again. Looking down into the hole, I could see Dad sloshing around with his shovel.
Two days earlier, we’d come out to find the pit empty, save three feet of water that was constantly leaking in. For the first time, we’d been able to dig below ninety feet—further than anything but a drill had been able to do before—and block off the flood tunnel. The morale of the whole crew could have powered an entire city.
“Hey, Sam,” Mark grunted, climbing out of the pit from the extra ladder we’d hastily put together. He was covered in mud from head to toe, but the grin on his face couldn’t be beat. “Can you believe it? I was just in the bottom of The Treasure Pit. Without a wet suit!”
“I know.” I beamed at him. “It feels great! I can’t even imagine how it must be for all of you. I’ve hardly been here at all and I feel like walking on air. All of your hard work is starting to pay off. That must be amazing.”
“It is.” He nodded, crossing the scaffolding to the small table I’d set up to hold drinking water and cups. After gulping down a few swallows, he wiped a dirty hand across his mouth and stared up at the sky. “Every day has been a beautiful day, you know? Take that you stinky old curse!” At that, he flipped the sky off and stuck his tongue out.
“What curse would that be?” I snickered, watching him with interest.
“Something always goes wrong. No matter how great it’s been, no matter how you prepare, something will happen. So keep your fingers crossed, sound good?”
Doing as he asked, I crossed my fingers as I snickered, moving to help Scott unload the giant bucket of mud we’d just pulled up.
“How’s it going up there?” Dad called.
“Good,” I yelled. “Let me get this mud taken care of and I’ll come down to help again after I send the bucket back.”
“Sounds go—” He was cut short by a strange rumbling around us. It sounded like a rockslide, but from far away.
“Get out!” Scott screamed, grabbing my wrist and yanking me away from the pit.
In slow motion, as I was pulled away, I saw Dad scrambling for the ladder, throwing himself on it and climbing as fast as he could. Then I was looking at Scott, who had terror written all over his face as he pulled me to him, flinging both of us off the scaffolding. The rumbling sound got louder, the ground moving beneath us, one of the pumps sputtering and sliding, and then I was face down on the ground, a mouthful of dirt suffocating me. A ringing filled my ears as time continued to slow down, finding me struggling to get to my feet.
My brain couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing as I turned around. Dust was heavy in the air, one edge of the scaffolding broken and hanging down into the pit. The opening was larger than it had been before, having caved in somewhere underground and dropped the top several feet. The water pump on that side had fallen into a depression as well, balancing haphazardly on the edge of the solid ground and the mulched earth underneath. Poking way up out of the ground like some type of imagined skyscraper, the ladder we’d been using to get in and out was busted.
All around me, I heard coughing and swearing, until the ringing in my ears came to a sudden stop.
“Dad!” I screamed so loudly that it felt like my throat tore itself open in that very instant. Scrambling to my feet, I pulled myself up onto the piece of scaffolding that was still in place and looked over into the pit, my heart pounding. As much as I didn’t want to see what was down there, I knew I had to look.
All of the work we’d done was gone. Fresh dirt and mud had filled the hole at least halfway up. Everywhere was a mess. Broken scaffolding bits were poking out here and there, small bits of rock crumbling into the bottom.
And there was no Dad.
“Oh my god,” I whispered, feeling the same shell shock as when I’d seen my mother’s dead body. Repeating the phrase, with shaking hands, I pushed away, crawling across the platform until I fell back onto the ground. I realized then that I hadn’t been the only one looking, as Scott stumbled down next to me, Mark swearing hatefully behind us. “We have to get him out,” I insisted to Scott, looking at him with wide eyes. “He could still be alive! There could be an air pocket and he only has a few minutes left!”
“Samantha, he’s buried,” he explained with a shaky voice. “We can try to dig him out, but without the pump—”
“The ground crushed the ladder straight across,” Mark said, coming up next to us. “There’s no way it could break like that and not have been hit with a good amount of force.” His jaw was working furiously, his eyes blinking rapidly, and I suddenly realized he was trying to keep from crying.
“Oh no,” I moaned, scooting away from the both of them. “Oh no no no no no! Please! There has to be a chance!” In a spurt of decision, I dashed past both of them, jumping back onto the platform and making my way to the edge.
“Sam!” Eric appeared out of nowhere, grabbing me around the waist and pulling back from the opening.
“Let me go!” I screamed. “Someone has to help him!” In the hours that followed, to me it seemed that all I could hear were my screams caught in the trees, slamming themselves against the earth that had taken from me the only family I had left.
Swept Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book One) Page 11
