Long Valley Road

by Ross Richdale

  A petrified scream from one of the girls made him glance out the driver's window. He gulped. A wall of foam ten metres high replaced the hillside. Harold braked and turned the steering wheel so the rear of the car faced the deluge.

  "Get on the floor!" he screamed at the children.

  That was all there was time to say for everywhere around, water and more solid substances pelted the roof, the car shuddered but that was all. It was as if they were on the underside of a gigantic breaker just before it broke and swept them away. In those microseconds, Harold's mind interpreted what his eyes saw but he had no time to send messages for his limbs to react, not that they could do anything!

  Ten metres in front, the white Toyota was hit, lifted and flipped over. Harold could see the wheels spinning in the air as the car slid away. A second later a wall of mud curled up behind the vehicle, lifted it for an instant before an even greater wall descended on the upside down vehicle and it was gone! A full sized tree, roots up like a grotesque giant stretching out his arms, replaced the image before this was gone in a lava of chocolate mud.

  Harold shuddered in shock and turned. Behind was another wall of mud but they were in the middle. Ignoring the children's screams, he moved his head to the right and saw that by some quirk of fate, they were below a rocky ridge that had diverted the avalanche left and right around them. In front he could still see the gravel road and grass. But it did not last. Mud poured in from each side and seized the Escort. It shuddered like jelly. Mud came up as high as the windows before it stopped and retreated. The car was lifted upwards, carried sideways and finally flicked right around so Harold could see the hillside.

  He gasped. It was a massive sea of churning boulders, mud, and trees.

  There was a scraping crunch, a shudder and it was only the seat belts that stopped the driver being flung against the windshield. Outside, a massive pine tree, one of the few still standing, held the little car while, a few metres behind, the rocky outcrop also held and diverted the avalanche around the tiny oasis of calm like the eye in the middle of a hurricane.

  Harold searched around. Mud engulfed them, the doors were held as if in a concrete mould but they were alive and behind, the wall of mud was smaller and gray sky could be seen.

  "We're safe, Kids," Harold spoke for the first time. "You can all sit up now."

  Five tiny heads looked up and there was nothing worse than a bruised arm to contend with.

  Harold reached in his pocket, took out two crunchy bars that were to be his lunch up at the top boundary fence and broke them into six pieces.

  "Here," he said. “One bit for each of us. Now just sit still. Someone will come and rescue us soon."

  *

  "Grandma," Julie called. "There's a second helicopter coming down. It looks like an air force one."

  Fiona placed the cup in her hand down and rushed to the door. Julie was right. A huge camouflaged helicopter with a blue ringlet and red kiwi, the national bird of New Zealand, on its fuselage, landed in the field between the implement and wool sheds. She watched as a crewman in orange helmet jumped out.

  Fiona saw five children being helped out. Behind, an elderly man, shook the crewmembers hand and, buffeted by the downdraft glanced up and waved.

  "Harold!" she screamed and ran across the lawn.

  She reached him at the gate and flung her arms around his body. "Harold!" she sobbed. "I thought you were dead."

  "No lassie," he replied and held onto her." The Good Lord and the Devil had an argument on who would take me, couldn't decide so let me go."

  "Oh Harold," Fiona cried. "When I heard you'd gone back." She buried her head in his shoulder and wept tears of gratitude.

  *

  Across the lawn, a flight lieutenant had more unfortunate news to spread to two trembling parents. "I'm sorry, ladies," he said. "We are still searching for the other car. The children here now are all we have rescued."

  "No!" howled one woman, her eyes filled with emotion. "My Bradley!"

  "I'm sorry," the embarrassed air force officer replied. "We have search crews out there now and one other helicopter on patrol. If we find the other car we'll tell you at once."

  "Come inside, Sue," Courtney said and placed an arm around the weeping woman. She looked up to find Fiona there to lead the lady away and turned to the air force officer. "Thank you for all you've done, flight lieutenant," she said. "I hear it's a miracle my car was safe."

  "Your car was it, Ma'am?" the man replied in a soft voice. "It was the one spot across the whole avalanche that wasn't buried. The school, school house and everything have gone." He stroked his moustache. “I didn't tell that lady but I'm afraid there is little hope for the occupants of the remaining car."

  “I guessed that," the teacher replied. "If only... " She stopped and smiled at the man beside her. "It could have been worse, you know. If Harold hadn't come we could have all been killed."

  "I believe so," the man replied. "He was a brave man. Now if you will excuse me, I need to get my 'copter back down to the eastern side," He shrugged. "You never know your luck."

  *

  Inside, Fiona's mobile phone rang.

  "Fiona," gasped John's voice. "The police have just told me Harold has been rescued but what of Vicky?"

  "There's no news, John. I'm sorry."

  "I see," John’s voice dropped. "Are Julie and Helen there?"

  "Yes. Do you want to speak to them?"

  'No, we have our own crisis. The baby is on her way."

  "Oh hell!" Fiona retorted. "What happened?"

  "The shock of the news, I guess," John replied. 'We're waiting for a helicopter to take us to Palmerston North." His voice broke. "It's two months early. Look, I must go."

  "Right, John," Fiona gasped, clicked off and found Julie.

  "Your dad just rung and said Kylena is in labour. They're taking her to Palmerston North."

  Julie's grim face turned even whiter.

  "Oh Grandma," she whispered. "What will happen?"

  "At seven months, the baby will be tiny but has a chance. They'll put her in a incubator after she is born."

  "Grandma," Julie fixed her eyes on her grandmother. "Kylena won't die will she?'

  Fiona blinked back tears and hugged her granddaughter. "No, she'll be fine. Women have premature babies all the time."

  "And the baby?"

  "I don't know, Julie. We'll just have to wait and see."

  "Oh Grandma." Julie tried to keep a brave face but her fists clenched. "I need to tell Helen," she cried in the end.

  "No, sit here, Sweetheart," Fiona coached. "I'll find her."

  Courtney arrived, took one look at Julie's face and turned to Fiona. "What's wrong!" she gasped.

  "Kylena heard about the avalanche and the shock has brought on the baby. They're taking her to Palmerston North hospital."

  "That's all we need!" Courtney gasped, She reached for the edge of a table to steady herself, staggered and almost fell. Her face paled and, without warning, her body erupted into tears.

  *

  Harold, who was squatting down with Helen glanced up when Fiona arrived. "Helen's being a brave girl," he said, gave her a wee hug and stood up. "I'm going back to help in the search," he muttered and disappeared out the door.

  He had a theory. The rescue crews were searching for the missing car below where the Escort had been found. He could see the vision of the upturned car in his mind's eye, wheels still swinging and rear section tipped up in an almost vertical position. The vision was engraved on his mind as he thought through the scene again. Straight after the main force of the slide roared through and the vehicle had disappeared from sight.

  That was it! It disappeared from sight. It was not buried under the mud as he had originally supposed. Also the movement was off to the left towards Top Oasis, not straight down the valley. Perhaps the vehicle was carried across the avalanche rather than down the valley and was somewhere on this side.

  "Come on Sissy," he grunted to the f
ox terrier, ducked his head into the pouring rain and headed down the drive. They arrived at the road and headed towards the cottage and the edge of the slip. A large piece of wooden frame, it appeared to be part of the old school play shed, had twisted around in the sludge and ground to a halt several metres away. This part of the road was level so the movement was away from the pressure and force of the avalanche itself.

  "Want a hand there, Harold?" a voice came through the rain and the elderly man glanced up to see Kelvin Newson standing, coatless on the road with water streaming off his old hat and shirt. Khaki shorts clung to saturated skin.

  "Hello Kelvin. The search crews are on the main avalanche site looking for the missing car but what if it was pushed across the face to this side?"

  "What a bloody shambles," Kelvin muttered. "The whole lot gone!" He stared up at what was his newly grassed hillside. "A hundred thousand bucks just gone!"

  Kelvin frowned at the man. He was about to snort it was his own fault when he saw Kelvin's eyes, that almost vacant stare out into the rain. Of course, he was in shock, too. Probably his last chance to turn a profit was gone in those few minutes.

  "Come on, Kelvin," he said kindly. "Let's follow this side along. We may just see the car."

  "The car!" muttered the other man. "What car?"

  Harold explained.

  "Oh shit! I didn't know." Kelvin replied. The eyes lost their distant gaze and his attention was now focused on Harold.

  Together the two made their way along the slip edge and searched through the dull light. The downpour slackened a little to become a misty drizzle but, if anything, visibility was worse as the clouds descended around the hilltops. A helicopter with flashing navigation lights, roared over and muffled shouts could be heard in the distance. Mud was up to Harold's calves and hindered his progress as it sucked his gumboots down with every step but he continued along the side of the road. He wiped water from his eyes and stared out. Clumps, tree branches, debris from a building, roofing iron, even the remains of playground equipment all stuck out of the quagmire.

  "You're right," muttered Kelvin. "Part of the school was swept this way."

  "Yeah," Harold grunted, sloshed further along the edge but there appeared to be nothing that even remotely resembled the car.

  "Come on, Harold," Kelvin muttered. "There's nothing here, I'm afraid.”

  "I guess you’re right," Harold replied and was about to follow his neighbour's advice when Sissy started barking and ran along the slip towards a large uprooted tree trunk. “What is it, girl?" he called and followed the dog.

  "Probably a rabbit," muttered Kelvin.

  "No, I don't think so. Sissy has seen something." Harold raised his hand over his eyebrows and stared out. Roots of the tree were stuck out of the mud but embedded in behind was something metal. He reached out, grabbed Kelvin's arm and pointed.

  "What's that?" he spluttered.

  Kelvin followed his gaze where white paint could be seen behind the twisted branches and leaves. "You're bloody right, mate," he said. "It's the car!"

  "You did it girl!" Harold gasped, picked Sissy up and cuddled her in his arms. "Stay here, girl. It's too deep for you," he continued and, without waiting, sloshed out towards the tree. The little dog panted, thumped her tail and sat down to watch the men. Her job was done.

  Yes, the upturned Toyota was beyond the tree stump! The back of it stuck out of the mud at an angle of forty-five degrees. The mud was up above Harold's knees before he reached the tree and worked his way around the roots towering above him.

  "Come on!” he shouted to Kelvin who kicked off his gumboots and followed.

  By now Harold was already beside the car. He rubbed mud off the back window, pressed his nose to the glass to peer in but jumped back in shock. A terrified little face stared back out at him.

  Kelvin also saw the face. "We'll never get those doors open," he panted. "Even if we did the mud would slide in and cover the kids."

  "So what do we do?" Harold snorted.

  Kelvin stopped and studied the scene. "The back window. We need to break it."

  "But the children!"

  "Well what do you bloody suggest?" the other man retorted.

  "You're right," Harold replied and glanced back to see the tiny white face had gone.

  He found a loose tree branch and nodded at his companion.

  "Hit it in the middle!" Kelvin advised. He also had a branch in his hand. "It will take a bit of power. You go first and I'll try to hit the same spot.”

  With all his strength, Harold swung the heavy branch down on the window. It vibrated but not even a crack appeared. He pulled back, raised the branch again and watched as Kelvin's powerful swing bashed his branch on almost the identical spot.

  Harold swung a second time, his whole body jarred and he withdrew again. The men swung again and again until, on the sixth or was it the seventh belt, the window sort of folded in and clouded over into a circle of octagonal shaped pieces outside two intersecting cracks.

  "Bloody good job!" Kelvin swore and aimed one more belt at the glass.

  "That'll do," gasped Harold.

  He reached for a thinner stick from the tree and poked it through a minute hole, Kelvin saw what was being attempted and assisted. Together, they wedged the glass particles up until a small section broke off, followed by another. Harold reached forward with his fingers, slipped four inside and pulled. The crumpled glass came towards him like a piece of cardboard.

  "Keep going, Harold," Kelvin encouraged. "It's lifting."

  The glass continued out until a section, the size of a dinner plate, came away in Harold's hand and screams and sobs from inside filled the air.

  Kelvin grabbed another section but with the pressure on the safety glass gone, this came out easily. Harold gripped a top part and pulled. It was like pulling toffee but more and more came away until half the glass was removed.

  Harold gazed in to see two eyes and a tear stained face gazing at him. “Can you give me your hands Laddie?" he asked the little boy inside.

  "I think so," sobbed the boy.

  Harold gripped two wrists and pulled. It was like pulling a cork from a bottle but the little fellow came straight up. Kelvin tucked his arm around the boy and held him. "You're safe now, Bradley, me lad," he said in a soft voice.

  Meanwhile, Harold had reached in and lifted a little girl out. She attempted a smile and used her feet to push on the car body. "And what's your name, little lady?" he asked.

  "Alexia," she sobbed. Harold could see blood flowing from a cut chin.

  "Good, Alexia. Stand beside your friend there. It's raining and you'll get wet but you don't mind that, do you."

  "No," the wide eyes just stared at Harold.

  Kelvin pulled the third child out and Harold the last. "There were only four," he gasped. "There's only the teacher now."

  He slid head, arms and shoulders through into the stinking interior and focused on the scene. The four children had all been in the back seat. In front was only an arm and the end of a turquoise cardigan poking out from the mud. Harold grabbed the hand but it just sort of flopped down.

  "Oh hell!" he gasped and wriggled further in.

  "Be careful," Kelvin advised from behind. "The whole car could go."

  A clump of hair was wedged in the corner. Harold reached down, found a chin and lifted the head up but it was inanimate. Glazed eyes appeared and water flowed out of a grotesque shaped mouth. Using one hand to steady himself and the other to swish away the mud from the woman's nose and lips, he examined her face but it was just a pastel gray.

  He grabbed the wrist again and felt for a pulse. There was none!

  "Harold!" Kelvin shouted from behind. "You'd better get out."

  "Okay," he muttered and wriggled back, found the farmer's eyes and gave a slight shake of his head.

  "Miss Taylor!" cried Alexia, her eyes filled with tears. "She wouldn't talk to us."

  "Other men will come and help her out," Harold lied.
>
  He knew it was too late for Vicky Taylor.

  As the two men lifted the four children around the tree roots, a man and a woman dressed in orange safety clothes appeared.

  "Hang on there," the woman shouted. "We'll help!"

  "Vicky Taylor is still in the car," Harold gasped and wiped his beard in frustration. "I don't think anything can be done for her."

  "Okay, Harold," the man who appeared to be a police or air force officer, replied in a soft voice as he placed a hand on the rescuer's shoulder. "Thank you. You've done everything you can. We'll get the helicopter in to lift the car out. Get back up to the house."

  When Harold and Kelvin, each carrying two children, arrived at Top Oasis with Sissy trotting along behind, they were met by two sobbing women who rushed up and grabbed two of the children. Fiona grabbed another child and Courtney the last.

  "We'll ring your mommy," Fiona said to the youngster clutching her neck. "We'll get you dry and find a hot cup of cocoa for you."

  The first woman kissed her son, sat him on a sofa took both Harold's hands. "I heard what you did, Doctor Bentley," she sobbed. "You saved my Bradley's life. Thank you!"

  "Anyone would have done it." Harold sounded embarrassed. "I'm just glad we were in time, that’s all."

  The woman looked up. "No," she said. "Everyone was searching on the other side. You were the only one who thought of this end."

  "It was Sissy who found them, Ma'am," Harold continued.

  He gazed around the room and smiled as Fiona came and tucked an arm around him. "You stink of mud but I still love you, Harold," she whispered. "Come on. I'll get you a hot drink."

  "And don't forget something for Sissy," the elderly man replied.

  *

  CHAPTER 17

  It was ten to midnight on that fateful day when the new Berg baby arrived in the world at Palmerston North Hospital and the exhausted mother smiled up at John, Doctor Simone Downie and a hospital gynaecologist.