EMP: Return of the Wild West | Book 3 | Survive The Journey

by Hamilton, Grace

  “What is she doing to the cattle?” Tabitha said, even more sharply. “Why is she running them away like that?”

  “We’re cutting our losses,” Darryl said. The wind had picked up again, blasting cold rain right into his eyes. He almost lost his toque to a particularly fierce gust, but he reached up and grabbed it.

  “The cattle are not losses we can cut,” Tabitha said. “We need them to survive. Don’t you understand? We didn’t bring them all this way just to scatter them in the mountains like garbage.”

  “Take it easy, Mom,” Marion said. “Don’t get worked up. This is too much for you.” She dismounted, hopped down to the ground, and approached Tabitha. “Come on. Let’s get you back in the saddle.”

  “No, I’m okay,” Tabitha replied. As she said it, she swooned and Marion caught her.

  “You need to sit down,” Marion said.

  “I said I’m okay,” Tabitha snapped. She jerked away from Marion and stumbled backward. This spooked her horse, and the mare eased away from her. “Tell Tuck he’s not going to get rid of my cows. This is our livelihood. How many times do I have to say it?”

  As if to punctuate this point, a blast of wind swept over the trail, and Darryl had to brace himself against it.

  “Justine, are you okay?” he called, raising an arm in front of his face.

  “I’m still standing, if that’s what you mean,” she replied. “This weather sucks, and it’s not good for the baby. Can we go now? If we keep standing here, he’s going to get pneumonia.”

  And then Darryl heard a loud crack above him. Looking up, he saw an enormous tree, almost forty meters tall, bending in the wind. The trunk had snapped about two-thirds of the way up, and it leaned over, tipping in the direction of the trail. His first thought was Justine, so he backed toward her, but as a massive section of the tree fell, he realized that the trunk was going to hit right where Tabitha and Marion were currently standing.

  Horace grabbed the reins of his horse and turned her, as Tabitha and Marion both looked up and realized what was happening. Seeing the enormous section of the tree falling straight down upon them, they reached for each other.

  “Move,” Tabitha snapped. She dodged Marion’s grasping hands, took her by the shoulder, and shoved her aside.

  Marion stumbled and fell, landing on her back on the trail. And then the tree slammed down with a crash of limbs, needles, and rainwater. Darryl thrust his arms out and turned, shielding Justine, but he felt debris pelting his back. The baby began to wail. In the aftermath, as the tree settled, he stepped back.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked Justine.

  “I’m fine,” Justine said. “It landed over there. Go help them!”

  She grabbed his arm and turned him. The tree had fallen directly across the trail.

  “Tabitha,” Marion cried. “She’s beneath it! We have to get her out of there.”

  Darryl rushed forward, swiping branches aside. It didn’t take long to spot his grandmother. She was directly beneath the trunk of the tree, lying flat on her stomach. He pushed and tore and kicked branches out of his way to get to her. As he drew close, she raised her head and looked at him with glassy eyes. Using her forearm, she managed to push off the ground. Blood ran down her forehead into her eye, but she angrily swiped it away.

  “I’m alive,” she said, anticipating his concern. “Don’t bury me yet.”

  Darryl stretched out his hands, and she took them. “I’m going to trying to pull you out from under.”

  “Pull hard,” she replied. “Don’t worry about the pain. I can handle it. Just get me out of here.”

  Fortunately, branches on the underside of the tree had prevented the trunk from falling flat against the ground. Indeed, it looked like Tabitha had a couple of inches between her body and the trunk. Still, Darryl was sure that the force of its fall had caused the full weight of it to bounce, and he didn’t doubt that her delirium was masking the true extent of the damage.

  “Okay, here we go,” he said. “One, two, three.”

  He pulled, and she cried out. Broken branches dragged at her clothing, scraped her back, her legs. After a moment, he stopped.

  “No, no, keeping going,” she said. “It’s working. I said don’t worry about me.”

  He resumed pulling. Slowly, she came out from under the trunk of the tree, snarling and cursing the whole way. By the time he pulled her free, her clothes were torn, with numerous long rips down the back of her coat and pant legs.

  Marion appeared at his side then. She bent down and put her arms around Tabitha, helping to lift her. But Tabitha moaned and went limp, collapsing against Darryl shoulder.

  “I’m fine. Just put me back in the saddle,” she said, voice slurring. “Back in the saddle. Come on, Tuck. I can still ride. Like you always said, I’m tougher than two-dollar steak. It’s a silly saying, though, isn’t it? You can’t buy a steak for a toonie.”

  “You can’t ride in your condition,” Horace said. “Tabitha, dear, you’ve been badly injured. We need to treat your wounds.”

  “No, we’re not going to sit here and wait for Emma to chase away all the cows,” she replied.

  Dragging her backward, her feet sliding along the ground, Darryl moved to the travois. He felt a frantic sense of desperation. They were supposed to be heading downhill already, taking the shortcut to get ahead of their pursuers. What was he supposed to do now?

  “I’m fine, I told you,” Tabitha said. “Why are you lugging me around like dead weight?”

  “You’re not fine,” Darryl replied. “I’m putting you on the travois. We’ll make room, and you can lie there and take it easy. You’re all banged up, Grandma. Please, don’t fight me on this.”

  Justine had taken a seat on a small box at the end of the travois, trying to shield the baby while she fed him. When Darryl approached, lugging a delirious Tabitha, she reached back and flipped her blanket aside.

  “Here, she can have my spot,” Justine said. “I was going to walk for a while anyway.”

  With Marion’s help, Darryl managed to hoist Tabitha off the ground and lay her on the travois, though it was already puddling with water. It couldn’t have been a more miserable situation. Tabitha made a vain effort to sit up, batting weakly at his hands.

  “Why do I have to lay here with the supplies?” Tabitha said.

  “Because we’re taking the shortcut,” Darryl replied. “We’re leaving the road and heading down the slope through the woods, just like you wanted. But only if you promise to lie down.” He positioned her on her side, so she wouldn’t put pressure on the worst of her wounds. Then he shifted the water barrel so it blocked some of the rain.

  Tabitha looked up at him, some of the frustration leaving her face. “The shortcut,” she said. “We’re taking the shortcut. So you took my advice?”

  “That’s right, so just relax here, okay? Don’t make trouble.”

  She gave him a sheepish grin and settled herself on the travois, as he pulled the blanket over her. A trail of blood had run down her forehead, curling around her left eyebrow, and Darryl could just make out an enormous wound above her hairline. Nothing to be done about it now.

  With a sigh, he rose and turned to Justine. She had the baby under her shirt, and she was rocking in a kind of gentle spinning motion, patting him.

  “We need to make room for you on the travois as well,” he said.

  She frowned at him. “I can walk.”

  “Not the way we’re going,” he replied. “I’m sorry. We don’t have time to debate the issue. We have to get moving. Please, let me make room for you.”

  Justine looked for a moment like she was going to resist. She tightened her jaw and pressed her lips together, but then she let out an expulsive sigh. “Well, so be it,” she said. “I guess I’d rather get out of here as soon as possible.”

  Darryl moved some boxes around to create a place for her near Tabitha, and Justine slid backward onto the travois and settled herself in the space. By then, Emma had
returned, looking glum, her hands on her hips.

  “I sent a few of the straggler cows into the woods,” she said, shaking her head to get rain-soaked hair out of her face. “We’ve got seven left. Seven. But they’re the best-behaved of the cattle. I think we can keep them together.”

  Darryl nodded, looking from his sister to his mother to the travois. He just didn’t feel good about this, but he didn’t feel good about anything. Their whole situation seemed hopeless, and suddenly, he was fighting an urge to cry. Instead, he dragged his fingers through his hair and tried to push the worst of his emotions down as deeply as possible.

  “Okay, let’s get going,” he said. “Emma, keep an eye on the remaining cows, please. I’ll lead the way.”

  And with that, he turned and headed back to the front of the caravan.

  26

  The ground south of the trail was rocky, which meant the trees were more spread out. While the downward slope was a bit of a problem, forcing them to check their speed constantly, it wasn’t as bad as Darryl had feared. The rocky ground meant they left fewer tracks behind them. Darryl considered that a massive advantage, even if it was rough-going for the people on the travois. He held the reins of Horace’s mare, guiding her in the lead as he headed into the woods. Marion rode just behind him, pulling the travois, and Emma was a little farther back, keeping the last few cattle together.

  We’ve dwindled so much since we left the cave, he thought. Will there be anyone or anything left by the end?

  He tried to put that thought aside. Better to fake being hopeful than give in to the despair that was so close to the surface. Unfortunately, the trees being so far apart meant they did little to shield them from the relentless rain, which was coming down in great sheets, hitting them at an extreme angle. Darryl retrieved the binoculars from the travois and used them to scan their surroundings. He didn’t see their pursuers anywhere. But, then again, with all the rain, he couldn’t see much of anything.

  After perhaps a few hours of tromping down into the woods, the land opened up even more, the ground becoming mostly rocks with only smaller trees scattered about. Darryl looked back to make sure everyone was still in line, and he spotted Emma at the back of the group, walking alongside one of the cows. She was walking hunched over, letting the animal shield her from the worst of the rain.

  When Darryl turned back around, he stumbled on a loose rock and struggled to maintain his balance.

  “Son, you look like you could use some rest,” Horace said. “Why don’t you join them on the travois. This big draft horse can handle the extra weight.”

  “He’s right,” Marion said. “You haven’t gotten enough rest in the last few days. Take it easy. We’re fine. We’ll just keep the horses moving straight ahead.”

  “No, no, I have to see where we’re going,” Darryl said. The truth was, his every thought was swimming on the edge of blackness. A deep bone-weariness had sunk into every limb, and it took all of his concentration just to keep putting one foot in front of the other, but he was afraid that if he lay down, he would struggle to get up again for a very long time. And they needed him. His family needed him in case there were any other problems. “I’ll be fine for a while longer.”

  “Son, just promise me you’ll take a break eventually,” Marion said. “You can’t keep pushing yourself to the breaking point. Otherwise, you’ll be no use if something bad happens.”

  “You got it, Mom,” he said.

  He scrubbed his face with his hands, hoping it would somehow wake him up. It did little. He pressed on anyway, guiding the horses down the slope. Over the next few hours, the slope gradually flattened out, and they found themselves headed across a broad shelf of rocks. Darryl assumed this was the area where the river ran underground. He considered asking Tabitha for confirmation, but she was sleeping. Ahead, the ground remained flat for a while before sloping down again and entering dense woods.

  Darryl stumbled on a loose rock again, and this time, he went to his knees. When he picked himself up and looked back, he saw that Horace was slumped in the saddle, arms crossed over his chest, the silver flask dangling from his hand.

  “Let’s take a break,” Marion said. “It’s time. Darryl, we’ve gone long enough. Anyway, it’ll be night soon, and we need to make camp somewhere.”

  He wanted to argue with her, but he could barely stand up now. Raising the binoculars, he scanned their surroundings again. Still no sign of their pursuers. Maybe they’d given up and gone elsewhere. Maybe they’d come across the straggler cows and taken them. He could only hope. The rain, at least, was finally beginning to let up, though by now, they were all soaked to the bone. Darryl finally lowered the binoculars. He pulled the rifle off his shoulder, planted the butt against the ground, and used it to leverage himself to his feet.

  “Okay, fine,” he said. “We’ve been going down the slope for hours. I guess we can let the people and animals rest for a while. I think we’re safe.”

  “Good,” Marion said, climbing down off the saddle. “I’ll help Horace down. You go check on the others.”

  Darryl nodded and headed back to the travois. All of the remaining cows were accounted for. Indeed, it seemed Emma had done an excellent job of keeping them close. Darryl gave her a thumbs-up, and she gave him one in return. Looking back the way they’d come, he had a beautiful view of the rocky peaks behind them. A bit of smoke still rose in the distance, as if the fire had not yet been completely rained out.

  On the travois, Darryl found Justine sitting up, her back against the water barrel. She’d set the papoose beside her and was holding the baby in her arms. Darryl approached, catching himself against the edge of the barrel.

  “Is everything okay back here?” he said. “Not too rough, I hope.”

  “If this is first-class accommodations, I want a refund,” Justine replied. “Still no rum and Coke. Seriously, though, I can handle it, but it’s hard on the baby. Poor little guy can’t stay asleep. Otherwise, I guess we’re fine. Thank whoever is charge of the rain for turning down the dial a little bit.”

  Darryl smiled at her attempt at humor, though he didn’t find anything funny at the moment. He leaned over the barrel to look down at Tabitha. She was curled on her side, the tarp pulled up to her shoulder. Her hands were pressed together and tucked beneath her cheek, and she was breathing loudly with her mouth open. The wound on her head had stopped bleeding and was beginning to scab over, but a lot of blood was clumped in her hair.

  “How is she doing?” he asked Justine.

  “She’s been asleep almost the entire time,” Justine replied. She climbed off the travois and rose, standing beside him. “She’s kind of a loud sleeper, but other than that, nothing to report. I feel bad for her. She’s all banged up and bruised. Shouldn’t we set up camp so we can treat her wounds?”

  Indeed, she had visible bruises on her wrist, cheek, and temple, with shallow scratches on the back of her neck. Darryl leaned down and grabbed her shoulder, giving her a gentle shake.

  “Grandma, we’ve stopped for a little bit,” he said. “Do you need something to eat or drink?” She didn’t respond, so he shook her more insistently. “Come on, Grandma. At least sit up and let me take a look at your injuries. Now that the rain has let up, we should probably clean and bandage the worst of them.”

  She didn’t respond. Indeed, she didn’t react in any way. Darryl stepped onto the travois and knelt beside her, pulling one of her hands out from under her face.

  “Grandma.”

  He squeezed her hand, but she still didn’t react. Alarmed, he looked back at Justine, but she was trying to comfort the baby, patting him gently and rocking him from side to side.

  “What is it?” Marion said, coming up beside him.

  “She won’t wake up,” he said, setting her hand down. “She’s alive. I can hear her breathing, but I can’t get her to respond to me.”

  Marion reached down and set the back of her hand against Tabitha’s cheek, then pressed fingers to her n
eck.

  “Is it the head wound?” Darryl said. “Maybe she got hit harder than we realized.”

  “Or it could be diabetic shock,” Marion replied. “Get the medicine box. She has an emergency syringe that’s supposed to help in situations like this. I think it’s called glucagon. It came with the rest of the medicine you got from the mayor of Glenvell.”

  “Don’t remind me of that guy,” Darryl said.

  He crawled to the back of the travois, where the small wooden medicine box was lashed down with ropes. He worked it loose and opened the lid. Then he dug out the smaller box that contained Tabitha’s diabetes meds. As he was doing that, he saw his mother pull Tabitha’s sleeve back and pinch her forearm. Grandma didn’t respond.

  “No response to pain,” Marion noted. “That’s a possible sign of coma.”

  Darryl opened the small box and felt a little jolt of fear. There were two pill bottles inside, but they were empty. He saw the cap of a syringe as well, but nothing else. Somehow, Grandma had used all of her diabetes meds at some point. He turned over the box and dumped the empty pill bottles into the medicine box.

  “Nothing,” he said. “All of her meds are gone. How is that possible?”

  He met his mother’s gaze, and a terrible realization passed between them.

  “Tabitha’s been self-medicating,” Marion said. “Is it possible she took them all by accident at some point, confused by the onset of delirium?”

  “Must be,” he replied. “When could that have happened?”

  “Not sure. When we stopped to rest at some point. I didn’t have my eye on her constantly.”

  Darryl looked upward. They’d been walking all day, and evening was settling in. The last trickle of rain persisted, but he saw breaks in the clouds along the western horizon. He felt a deep and profound hopelessness in that moment, and it paralyzed him.

  He heard Emma approaching then, and he turned to her. “Emma, is there some kind of plant that can help diabetes?” he asked. “Reach into that encyclopedia you call a brain and think of something.”