by Elise Broach
CHAPTER 25
ALONE
THE WATER ROILED under and over Henry, sweeping him through the canyon. Rocks and branches scraped against his bare skin. His arms flailed wildly as he tried to grab on to something—anything—that would stop him. But the torrent was fast and furious.
Frantically, he tried to lift his feet and ride on the surface of the churning water. He remembered the time the Barker family had gone river rafting in Wyoming and the guide had said if you fell out of the raft, you should lift your feet and let yourself be carried by the water, so you wouldn’t break a bone banging into the jagged rocks below.
“Simon!” he screamed, his voice instantly swallowed by the rushing creek and the storm. When he tried to turn his head to look for Jack and Delilah, the muddy water filled his nose and mouth.
Then something whacked his shoulder. He saw Delilah’s wet face loom near him for an instant, her eyes huge with fright. For one brief second, his fingers grazed her arm.
“Delilah!” he yelled.
But the water swept her away.
Henry searched frantically for Jack, twisting in the torrent. Spitting and sputtering, he tried to breathe, as cold darkness closed over his head.
* * *
When Henry could open his eyes again, he found himself pressed against a huge, craggy rock. Looking around, he realized it was the head of the rock horse, rising out of the violent rapids. He spit and coughed wet mud from his mouth, wiping his face with his drenched T-shirt. The canyon was transformed by the impenetrable wall of rain and the rising creek that now roared through it. Turning toward the far end of the canyon, Henry could see that the water was rushing through a narrow slot, similar to the passageway they’d navigated to enter the canyon.
He didn’t see Simon, Jack, or Delilah anywhere.
“Simon!” he cried. “Jack! Delilah!”
It seemed to him that he yelled their names again and again, craning into the storm and praying for a response. But there was only the sound of the rain, and the frothy, swirling water below.
Henry blinked back tears. His throat ached. His shin had a long scrape on it, oozing blood, and his arms and knuckles were slashed and bruised. He stifled a sob.
Do the brave thing, he thought, even if you don’t feel brave.
What would Uncle Hank do?
Find the others, of course. That’s what he had to do. Still coughing, he climbed higher, toward the top of the rock horse. From the flat ledge of its head, he could see the whole canyon—the steep walls, the mound of boulders over the gold mine’s entrance, and the swift, violent stream rushing over the canyon floor.
But there was no sign of his brothers or Delilah.
Carefully, Henry pulled off his wet T-shirt and wrung it out with both hands, trembling from the chill.
“Simon!” he yelled again, as loud as he could, waving his shirt back and forth through the air. Maybe Simon would see the pale arc of it through the storm. He waved it till his arm hurt, calling Simon’s name over and over.
But the rain was so heavy, it was impossible to see anything.
Where were they? Henry slumped back down on the rock. What if they’d hit their heads? Or drowned? What if they were lost forever?
No.
Not like this. Suddenly, Henry was no longer afraid. A wave of pure rage filled him.
“NO!” he yelled. “STOP!”
He jumped to his feet and stamped on the flat rock, bellowing at the top of his lungs at the storm, the Thunder God, the mountain. The strange current of power and energy that had flooded him when he faced the mountain lion filled him again now. He screamed and jumped on the rock, waving his T-shirt through the air, not caring if he fell, not caring about anything at all.
And as suddenly as it had begun, the rain stopped.
Henry found himself standing alone on the drenched rock, perched over the canyon and the roaring creek. He looked around in wonder. He was shaking from cold, and his voice was hoarse.
Was the mountain listening?
And then he heard it … a thin sound that carried faintly above the roar of the churning water.
“Henry! Henry! Over here!”
CHAPTER 26
MISSING
IT WAS SIMON.
He was climbing over the rocks along the side of the canyon, a few feet above the water, waving at Henry and yelling.
“Simon!” Henry cried, scrambling down off the head of the rock horse. “I’m coming!”
He crawled and clambered over to the side of the canyon, slipping on the wet boulders. Simon was climbing awkwardly toward him. His face and clothing were streaked with mud, and there were small bloody scrapes all over his arms.
“Are you okay?” Simon asked. “I heard you yelling and I kept shouting at you, but you couldn’t hear me.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Henry said. He shivered, pulling his wet T-shirt back over his head. “But we have to find Jack and Delilah.”
“I know. I don’t see them anywhere.” Simon’s face was grim. “And I lost the backpack. It just disappeared.”
“What do you think happened? Where did all the water come from?”
“It was a flash flood,” Simon said. “It happens when there’s a heavy rain in a dry place like this. Remember? Emmett told us about them a long time ago. There must be a creek at the other end of the canyon. When it started raining so hard, it flooded.”
“It’s so much water,” Henry said in amazement, watching the brown stream that frothed and splashed through the canyon, disappearing into the narrow slot at the canyon’s entrance.
“Hen, we have to find Jack and Delilah and get out of here,” Simon said. “If that dynamite explodes, the rocks will fly everywhere.”
Henry turned his worried gaze onto the steep pile of boulders hiding the entrance to the mine. “Do you think it’s still there, after the rain and the flood?”
“I don’t know, but it was tucked under that ledge. And we can’t wait around to find out.”
Henry looked up to the rim of the canyon, where he had seen the blurred figures huddled right before the flood. It was utterly still now. There was no sign of anyone.
Overhead, the dark sky seemed to be turning a shade lighter, with a strange brightness struggling to break through.
“Jack! Delilah!” They both began yelling, their voices overlapping, as they climbed along the canyon wall. They scanned the creek and the rocks for any sign of movement.
“Jack!”
“Delilah! Where are you?”
Henry had no idea how much time had passed. It seemed like hours since the flood, but he knew that couldn’t be right. The darkness of the storm had been disorienting. What if the mountain had taken them? He thought of Sara Delgado, lost in the canyons, coming back so changed and strange. He tried to shake off the chill of fear. That couldn’t happen to Delilah and Jack. It just couldn’t.
“Wait—over there!” Simon pointed toward the narrow chute that led to the first canyon. Henry saw a flash of pink—Delilah’s pink backpack, stained with water and mud, swinging over the rocks. Delilah was with it.
“Hey!” she yelled.
Henry’s heart leapt in his chest. She was all right! She had survived!
“I found it! I found it!”
She was clambering excitedly toward them, her wet face flushed with exertion.
“What?” Simon asked. “Your backpack?”
But Henry understood. She was waving something small and silver in her hand. It was her father’s compass.
“Where did you find it?” he asked in wonderment.
“Your compass?” Simon looked incredulous. “But you didn’t even lose it here. You dropped it in the other canyon.”
“I know,” Delilah exclaimed. “I never thought to look for it here. It was in the rocks. I don’t even know how I saw it. But I did! I found it! I found it!”
She had reached them now, her soaked braid dangling over her shoulder, her face suffused with joy.
&nbs
p; Simon was shaking his head, stupefied. “I guess an animal or bird could have carried it here. Birds like shiny things.”
“It’s not even wet,” Delilah continued, exultant. “It’s a little scratched, but it works fine.” She threw her arms around both of them, hugging them tight. “I’m so glad we’re all okay!”
Then she stopped. “Where’s Jack?”
Henry could feel the weight of his worry pinning him to the rock. “We don’t know. We can’t find him.”
Simon’s face was tense. “We’ve been looking everywhere,” he said, staring into the turbulent water still streaming through the canyon.
“Jack is strong,” Delilah said quickly. “I’m sure he’s okay.”
“What about the curse?” Henry said slowly.
“There is no curse, Henry,” Simon snapped. “Stop saying that.”
“Then where is he? What if he’s lost like Sara Delgado? What if we find him and he’s not the same?”
“Let’s just find him first,” Simon said, still peering into the muddy torrent. “And quickly.”
Delilah tightened her thin arm around Henry’s shoulders. “We returned the gold to the mine,” she said. “The mountain isn’t angry at us anymore. I can feel it, Henry—I got my dad’s compass back.”
She lifted it in her palm, looking at the shining glass face. The needle trembled and swung to the black N, pointing north.
Henry’s gaze followed the arrow to a promontory of rock that jutted out next to Delilah, curving around her. He could see an array of faint white drawings covering it, sheltered from the rest of the canyon.
“More petroglyphs,” he said absently, tapping his finger against the rock.
But Simon was already elbowing past him, scrutinizing the small white figures.
“Hey, you guys,” he said. “Look at this. It’s a picture of a flood.”
Henry saw that he was right. The drawing showed tiny stick figures fleeing from a curled wave of water that seemed to be chasing them. Some were falling underneath it. Others were floating on its surface.
“Look at these guys,” Delilah said. “They climbed out of the way.”
She pointed to a handful of figures that seemed to be standing and sitting in a cave, above the silhouette of a horse.
“That’s the rock horse,” Simon said. “There must be a cave over here, in the wall of the canyon.”
They scrambled backward over the boulders, so they could survey the steep contours of the canyon wall.
“Do you see anything?” Simon asked.
Delilah shook her head. “Not a cave, anyway.”
But then Henry did see something. A dark hollow, and a patch of blue.
“That’s Jack’s shirt,” he cried.
CHAPTER 27
ESCAPE FROM SUPERSTITION MOUNTAIN
FRANTICALLY, THEY ALL BEGAN CLIMBING toward the small splotch of blue poking out of the rocks.
“Jack!” Simon yelled.
“Jack!” Henry echoed, with Delilah calling behind him, “Jack, are you okay?”
There was no response from the small cavern. The patch of blue didn’t move.
“Hurry,” Simon urged them, climbing recklessly over the rocks.
“It’s got to be Jack,” Delilah said. “The mountain was pointing us to him.”
Simon got there first, grabbing the sharp ledge of rock and hauling himself over it, with Henry and Delilah tumbling quickly after him.
“Jack!” Simon cried.
Henry’s heart seized. Jack was lying on his stomach in a dark, spreading puddle of water, his hair plastered to his scalp, his eyes closed. His clothing was drenched, and Henry could see that his arms and legs were covered with the same scrapes and bruises that the others had suffered. He wasn’t moving.
Simon crouched next to him, gripping his shoulder and shaking it. Moments later, Delilah and Henry knelt beside him.
“We have to make sure he’s breathing,” Simon said, quickly leaning over Jack’s face. “Roll him on his back.”
“Jack … Jack…” Henry cried, helping Simon turn him over. He had a brief terrible thought of the curse, but he instantly banished it from his mind. They had returned the gold. The storm had stopped. The mountain had given back Delilah’s compass, and she was right; the petroglyphs had led them here. The mountain was speaking to them now.
Simon pressed his head against Jack’s soaked T-shirt. “I can hear his heart beating,” he said, “I can hear him breathing.”
Henry nearly collapsed with relief. “Why isn’t he waking up?”
“I’ll clear his mouth,” Simon said. “Maybe he’s not getting enough air.”
Simon turned Jack’s head to the side and swept his finger between Jack’s lips, dislodging a wad of mud.
“His mouth is full of stuff.” For a second, Simon raised his eyes to Henry’s, and Henry saw only naked fear. To see it on Simon’s face—Simon, the one who always knew what to do—shocked him.
“It’s okay,” he told Simon. “He’s going to be fine.”
Simon scooped with two fingers this time, and suddenly Jack’s eyes opened and he lurched up from the ground, coughing and choking, gasping for breath.
Simon hit him on the back, and muddy water spewed out of his nose and mouth, while Jack continued to suck in great rasping lungfuls of air.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Delilah said, patting his back. “You’ll be all right now.”
Jack continued to cough and sneeze. The panicked look slowly receded from his pale face.
Simon dropped to the floor of the cave, covering his face in his hands. His shoulders were shaking.
Henry realized with a start that he was crying.
Delilah quickly knelt beside him. “Jack’s all right, Simon. Look, he’s breathing now. He’s sitting up.”
Simon’s breath came in sobs. “He almost drowned.”
“But he didn’t,” Henry said firmly.
“Yeah, I didn’t drown,” Jack said, looking worriedly at Simon. “I’m okay now.”
Henry had a sudden, crystal-clear understanding of what it must feel like to be the oldest … the responsible one, the one who had to know what to do. Simon made the decisions. He knew how dangerous things actually were. If something had happened to Jack, Simon would have believed forevermore that it was his fault.
But already Simon was settling back into himself, taking deep breaths, squaring his shoulders. “How did you get way up here?” he asked Jack.
Jack wiped his mouth on his mud-streaked shirt. “I don’t know! I went underwater. That’s the last thing I remember. I thought it was the curse,” he whispered, his lips trembling.
“No,” Henry told him, now certain. “The mountain saved you. We found some more petroglyphs—pictures of people in a flood—and they showed us where you were.”
When Jack looked at him blankly, Delilah explained, “The pictures were of people in this little cave, above the rock horse. That’s how we knew where to find you.”
“You must have climbed up here,” Simon told him.
Jack shook his head. “I don’t remember that.”
Simon stood up, gazing over the canyon, his eyes narrow. “Well, are you okay to keep climbing? Because if that dynamite explodes, we may never get out of here.”
Jack nodded, wobbling to his feet. “Are the bad guys still up there?”
“I don’t see them now,” Delilah said, squinting across the canyon at the opposite rim. “But they were there, right before the flood.”
Simon was still looking at the canyon floor, where the water frothed and churned. “We can’t go back through the pass to the other canyon. There’s too much water.”
Henry saw that he was right. The roiling stream had charged into the narrow chute, filling it. “We’ll have to climb up this side,” he said. “And try to find our way back.”
Simon nodded, rubbing his hand through his damp hair. “I wish I still had my backpack … and the rope and shovel.”
Delilah
grinned. “We’ll be fine,” she said. “We have my dad’s compass.” Securing her pink backpack over her shoulders, she hoisted herself onto the rocky overhang that shielded the cave.
The boys followed her, gripping first with their hands, then wedging their feet into the rock for a purchase. With Delilah leading the way, they began their ascent up the wall of the canyon.
* * *
By the time they reached the rim, the cloud cover had lifted, and the sky was filled with a sharp, uncertain light. Henry’s T-shirt was starting to dry, but his sneakers squelched at every step. When he glanced at the others, he thought what a miserable picture they made—wet, muddy, and bedraggled, sporting various bloody scrapes and scratches. What would they tell their mother? Even if they washed themselves off, they would still look like some awful mishap had befallen them.
“What time is it?” he asked Simon.
“Late afternoon, I think,” Simon said. “My watch got wet, and now it’s not working.”
“It’s three-thirty,” Delilah announced, brandishing the bright pink sports watch on her wrist. At Simon’s double take, she shrugged. “Waterproof.”
Pink and waterproof didn’t seem like they should go together, in Henry’s opinion, but it somehow didn’t surprise him that Delilah had a waterproof watch.
“That means we only have an hour and a half before Mom and Dad get home,” Simon said. “And we need time to clean up. Hurry!”
Henry wondered how it could be possible that they’d climbed up the mountain, scared off a mountain lion, climbed down into the canyon, returned Jack’s gold to the mine, discovered dynamite, and survived a flash flood, and they still had an hour and a half left before their parents returned from their outing. It might not be enough time to get home and washed up, but it seemed pretty good, considering.
He pictured his parents with Aunt Kathy and Emmett in the midst of their civilized Sunday afternoon, wandering through the vast, quiet galleries of the Phoenix Art Museum, while the boys and Delilah were here on Superstition Mountain fighting for their very lives. One day he wanted to tell them all about these adventures. Not now … it was too soon, and because they were parents, if they heard anything about it now, they would feel required to do something. But one day. Looking around at the red-brown landscape of cliffs and canyons and rocky spires, Henry made a promise to himself that he would remember every detail.
