“Only bad thing is that if you haven’t found it by now, there might be a chance someone had to dig a well deep enough to hit the deep water table,” Marcus added. “Then we might be in trouble. If the ground is malleable, like silt or sand, that means it will be easy to bring the water back up. But if we’re looking at hard-packed clay, there is a good chance someone drilled the well. If it’s been covered back up by debris or has fallen in on itself, we won’t be able to get it working again manually.”
“Not unless we all want to break our backs,” Shawn said.
“Or our shovels,” Marcus added.
“But a shallow well means it might be easily contaminated,” Marcus added. “So the position of the well would definitely be up and away from any latrine or sewage lines. Most likely in the back of the hotel, far from any other sources of contamination from even deer, rabbits, or other wildlife. Places where wildlife would have no reason to hang out and create problems.”
Matthew nodded again, understanding. “This is very helpful,” he said. “It lets me focus on a certain area rather than comb the whole property over and over again.”
Marcus and Shawn had another pause where they glanced at each other as if speaking without words. “Well,” Marcus drawled, “I suppose we could come and help you. Three pairs of eyes are better than one.”
“Wouldn’t mind walking the property and helping out,” Shawn said, pushing his glasses up his nose again.
“That would be amazing,” Matthew said, unbelievably relieved. “I wouldn’t really know what to look for. Wyatt mentioned the well might be severely damaged, and I haven’t seen it up until now.”
“No problem,” Shawn said, taking his glasses off and cleaning them on his plaid shirt. “Let’s go.”
In a way, it was strange being back on his property with Shawn and Marcus, who surveyed the land with new, critical eyes. Both men had been quiet and withdrawn on their walk back up to the hotel, even though Matthew figured he was still in their good graces. They seemed to simply be quiet-natured men. Somehow, he had managed to prove himself to them. He vowed he would try to help the members of the gun club as much as possible and as soon as he could. They had already proved invaluable to him in helping his family. Marcus had insisted that they survey the front of the property before canvassing the back, despite his earlier assertions. He argued that the front property was so wide, no latrine contamination would reach certain edges of the property, despite the slope. Shawn scoffed and called Marcus an idiot in a fond voice, but didn’t fight him very hard.
“See?” Shawn said, as the three of them began to walk toward the back of the hotel. “I bet you ten bucks it’s going to be in the back of the hotel on the right of the property line.”
“Too far,” Marcus said. “That would be too far. Who wants to haul water that far?”
Matthew listened to their bickering with fascination. He knew little to nothing about wells in general, and understanding the intricacies of where a well might be—and the variety of differences in opinions between the men—made him realize there could be a lot of things he’d missed around the property.
Marcus made a light coughing noise and adjusted his ball cap. Shawn pointed to the clearing around the edge of the property line, past the garden they had begun to build. “It’s gotta be around there,” he said.
But there was nothing there.
Shawn bit his lip in frustration as they picked their way over to the next site: a section of the grounds that was still on the property, but closer to a patch of dead and fallen trees and brambles. The terrain was awkward to navigate, full of boulders and uneven ground.
“It might make sense if it was over there,” Shawn mused, walking around a section of dirt clods.
“But not easy,” Marcus added. “The ground water must flow a specific way for it to be here.”
“Would that be a bad thing?” Matthew asked.
Marcus shrugged. “Would just mean that digging another well or a different well might be more complicated if it came to it,” he said.
Matthew watched as Shawn meandered over to a fallen tree. It had been a juvenile, judging by the spindly branches and the slender trunk, and it must have fallen a while back, given the brittle state of the bark. Scraggly bushes had begun to sprout underneath it. Parts of the trunk had begun to decay into mulch. Shawn bent over and pushed part of the trunk over. It landed with a thump on the ground, followed by a puff of sawdust and the skittering of small bugs.
Underneath it, there appeared to be a gray concrete cap.
Matthew’s heart stuttered in his chest as he followed Shawn to the tree and began his own inspection. He bent down and tried to wipe away the dirt and debris that covered it. “It was hidden underneath this tree,” he said, sounding amazed.
“That tree must have fallen a long time ago,” Shawn said, breaking one of the branches with his foot. “It’s far enough away from the hotel that it was probably considered an unnecessary cost to move it, and no one used the well anyway. Funny how that happens.”
“Yeah.” Matthew hooked his fingers around the cap’s edge. “Can we pull the cap up?”
In response, Marcus crouched next to the cap and with Shawn in position, they lifted and moved the cap off and to the side. Matthew peered down into the dark hole and got a whiff of undisturbed dirt and a slight hint of water. The sides looked pockmarked with roots and growth. One section appeared to be leaning to the side, possibly on the verge of collapse. He let out a curse. “It looks bad,” he said. When he looked up, he watched Marcus and Shawn exchange glances again. That glance that Matthew was beginning to learn meant they didn’t want to tell him something.
“Yeah, it doesn’t look good,” Marcus finally conceded. “I don’t know much about restoration, but the interior integrity looks iffy. I wouldn’t want to go down there.”
“Is there any water down there?” Matthew asked.
Shawn picked up a rock and dropped it into the well. They waited for a moment and then heard the sound of it bouncing off of something hard. No plonk of water.
Matthew sat back on his heels. What do I do now? “Are there any other options left to us to get fresh water? I mean, is there a river nearby we could draw from instead?”
Shawn shook his head. “I mean, there is, but it’s a long walk to gather water every day, and getting enough back up the mountain for washing, cleaning, and drinking would become tedious. That’s not to mention what happens when the beds dry up in summer or if they freeze over in winter. Honestly, the well is the best solution.”
“What about other smaller creeks?” Matthew asked, feeling hope slip away from him.
“Same deal,” Shawn said. “Only thing is they probably dry up faster mid-summer and freeze quicker in the winter.”
“Don’t be so negative,” Marcus cut in. “We could always start to map out the creeks. Even if one dries up, there might be another one that lasts longer or has more winter runoff. It’s a matter of figuring out what’s available and when it is available. Only thing is that it does take quite a long time to start to know the patterns of the land like that, which could change in the event of a drought or a wet season. Not much can be done about that, though. We need water. We can’t just wave a hand and hope the well fixes itself.”
“But it wouldn’t be helpful in the event of an emergency,” Matthew said, knowing he sounded faint. “We might be able to save as much water as we could, and start to develop a reserve, but it would be difficult if we needed water in a hurry.”
“Or if say, snow in the winter kept you from getting it for that day or week,” Marcus said.
Shawn scoffed. “You’d just melt the snow and boil it.”
“What if your wood is too wet and you can’t make a fire?” Marcus shot back.
“That’s just...Marcus, you’re being difficult.”
“Difficult, huh? I know I am, but at least I’m prepared. You never know what life is going to throw at you.”
“So how do w
e restore this well?” Matthew asked, knowing he sounded desperate. “It’s our best option, isn’t it?”
Marcus heaved a great sigh. “Yeah, Riley. I hate to say it, but it is.”
“Then that’s what we have to do,” Matthew said. For my dad, he thought. Anything.
6
Marcus looked over the side of the well and tugged at his curly beard, deep in thought. Matthew watched him like a hawk, wondering what he would say next. If restoring the well was the best solution, then he wanted to start fixing it right away.
Yet he knew he would need help. He couldn’t do such a thing on his own. And that help depended on approval and commitment from Marcus and Shawn.
Matthew followed Marcus’s line of sight down into the well. Even though it appeared that one side of the wall dipped inward as if it might be collapsing, that didn’t exactly mean it was an unsolvable problem. Even though they’d thrown a rock into the darkness and heard no plonk of water, that didn’t mean there wasn’t water—maybe they’d simply had bad luck and their rock had landed in a spot that had dried up. The well seemed to look back at him, as if waiting for him to weigh his options and make a decision.
But Matthew’s decisions had been made for him since David had collapsed.
“I can’t see much else,” Marcus admitted slowly, as if the words were molasses. “It’s a deep one, I can tell you that. There’s a lot of muck growing on the sides. It looks like a couple of stones have fallen out of their placement just along there.” He pointed into the darkness, and Matthew noticed a gap in the stonework. “Which most likely means the stones fell to the bottom. Could be preventing the water from filling the well up.”
“Could the well be functional, though, despite the integrity of the architecture?” Matthew asked. “I mean, will the well still draw up water, despite all the issues?”
Marcus shrugged in that way of his that meant he wasn’t sure how to answer. “Might be. There’s no guarantee that the well is functional. There’s a chance it could have dried up, but maybe the stones and muck that have fallen in on it are covering up the water. It could have been capped because the water wasn’t safe to drink, too.”
Matthew stood up straight and looked at the brambles and woods that had begun to take over this area of the property. What other secrets did the land hold that might have been concealed because the previous owners thought it wasn’t necessary to fix or rebuild? The fact of the matter was that they could debate all day whether there was water at the bottom of the well, but there was only one way to know for sure.
“I’ll be right back,” Matthew said as he turned and began to run toward the hotel. “Just wait here for a minute!” he shouted over his shoulder. Matthew knew he had to convince them beyond a shadow of a doubt that the well was worth the risk of restoration.
He bolted toward the cellar that they had discovered. Quickly he opened the doors and descended the stairs, finding a long length of rope hanging from a hook on the wall. He grabbed the heavy coils, looped them over his shoulder so they wound under his armpit, and climbed back up. The smell of dusty earth made him sneeze, but hope filled him to the brim. Not just hope. Determination. He would stop at nothing to make sure they had water on this property. For his family, yes, but also for his father.
He jogged back to the well site and saw Marcus pointing at the jagged stones as Shawn walked around the other side and peered down into the well again. Inspecting it. He picked at the rim of the well as if deciding how fast the rocks would crumble around him. Shawn looked up when he caught sight of Matthew and did a little wave.
“The integrity is probably shot,” Marcus said as Matthew sidled up beside him, breathing heavily. “I mean, based on the strength of these stones and how it looks unsteady halfway down, I think it’s a lost cause.”
“You think, but we don’t know that for certain,” Matthew said, slinging the rope off his shoulder. “We need a better look.”
“Yeah, that would be the best,” Marcus grudgingly admitted. “Need to find a couple of flashlights, a ladder, shovels, maybe get a couple of men to peer inside—”
Matthew uncoiled the rope and held up one end of it. “Well, you’ve got a man and a rope. Only thing we’re missing is the flashlight. And maybe the ladder.”
Marcus and Shawn stared at him for a long moment. “What the hell are you thinking?” Shawn blurted out.
“We need a better look,” Matthew said as if it was clear as day. He started to wrap the rope around the trunk lying next to the well. Despite the age, the rope seemed to hold, and he knew the trunk would support his weight, especially if it took the three of them to move it in the first place. “It’s my well, so it only makes sense that I take the risk of going down there. We don’t have time to wait for other people to haul tools up here and project-manage this thing. It’s time to take the plunge.”
“You’re out of your mind,” Marcus said, taking his ball cap off and running his fingers through his wild gray hair.
“Not at all,” Matthew said. He tied the rope securely around the trunk and threw the other end of it into the well. “I can’t be any plainer. We need to assess the damage before we make the decision to move forward with the restoration. I want to know for certain if this well is completely shot or if there’s a chance we can spend our time and resources restoring it. This is the only way. It’s better to know now, rather than waste time looking for alternatives. And it’s better that I take that risk, than anyone at the gun club doing it in my stead.”
He climbed over the broken stones even as the protests from Marcus and Shawn filled his ears. He began to work his way down the side of the well with hands and feet. He found perches in the stone, and his fingers around the rope began to ache as he worked his way down the interior of the well. Slowly, he lowered himself, taking note of the broken gap that Marcus had pointed out, along with probing the softer spots where the dirt had begun to crumble. It filled his palms like flour, sprinkling down over his arms and coating his boots. The rest of the dust fell into the darkness of the well.
His foot dug into its next perch, finding stability. He began to lower himself another step when his stable foot suddenly slipped. The earth began to give. With a muted cry, he felt the stone tumble out from under his foot, leaving his other foot scrambling for purchase. His hands slipped, making his whole body weight fall on his grip around the rope. Pain seared his palms as he began to slide down, unable to get a better grip on the rough weave. He knew he’d most likely scrape off the first layer of skin and couldn’t hold on any more. His hands let go of the rope and he suddenly swung into open air, without any grip or ability to stop his fall.
He let out a shout as terror overtook him and darkness filled his vision. Suddenly, he hit the ground with a thump. He wheezed for breath, feeling as if all the rocks at the bottom of the well had dug into his spine and broken his back. He rolled over on his side. At least the coolness of the stones felt good against his burned palms. The rope swung in front of him, and the sunlight streaming down seemed to illuminate it. A sprinkle of something wet landed on his forehead and he palmed at it, terrified that he’d split his head open.
It smelled of water. With a gasp, he peered upwards, but it was too dark to see the place where he’d begun to fall. He heard water trickling onto the ground, allowing him the slightest bit of hope and relief. Matthew grinned. The piled rocks and dirt had probably clogged the aquifer from rising and filling the space, but beneath all the muck and dirt down here, with a bit of work, he was certain there was still a chance for water to revive the well again.
“Are you okay?” Shawn’s panicked voice came down the well.
“I’m here!” he shouted back up at them. “I’m okay!”
He grabbed the rope and wiggled it, hoping that the motion would travel up and show Marcus and Shawn that he was on his feet and hadn’t broken his neck. Their curses reached his ears and made him grin wider. Crazy Matthew of the River Rock Hotel. Crazy, lucky son of a gun.
Matthew held the rope taut and began to climb it. It was easier going up than down, even with each movement of the rope burning the already-raw skin of his palms. When he finally climbed over the edge of the well, he was met by Shawn and Marcus cussing him out once more.
“Do you have a death wish?” Shawn demanded. “You crazy idiot, were you hoping to die today?”
“Jump into a well with nothing but a rope tied to a tree,” Marcus muttered. “What a fool.”
Matthew sat on the edge of the well, feeling the burn of exertion in his arms. “I know you think I’m an idiot,” he said, “and I’m sorry for scaring the two of you. But the well isn’t dead. There’s water down there. I felt it fall on me. We can make this whole again, can’t we? We can do the repairs.”
“You didn’t have to risk your life to find that out,” Marcus said. “And it doesn’t mean that the well is fully restorable just because you felt water fall on you. There’s more to it than that. We need to check the inner walls, ensure that it won’t collapse. Finding out that this well had a few drops of water in it doesn’t mean much and it definitely wasn’t worth that risk.”
“I did have to take the risk,” Matthew said. “If we’d just walked away from the well, it would have rotted and turned sour on us. We would have been forced to find some other way. Now, this must mean that we can get water, right? I know I’m no expert, but it has to be good news that there is water at all. Fresh water. Saves us from mapping out creeks and rivers that may or may not be dried up, doesn’t it? Saves us from worrying about wet timber for fire and boiling snow.”
Shawn shook his head. “Still can’t be jumping into wells like that,” he said. “What would have happened if you were actually hurt in there? You can’t take wild risks like that with the world like it is now.”
EMP Catastrophe | Book 3 | Erupting Chaos Page 5
