Redemption Mountain

by FitzGerald, Gerry

  Natty pulled the lever for the folding door and was surprised when it opened directly over their heads. She looked up, perplexed as to how they would get Geneva up and through the door. But Gabe had it figured out. He told Natty to move into the stairwell, with her shoulders outside. She briefly shone the flashlight onto the steep embankment, where she could see her team picking their way uphill. She sighed with relief, knowing how lucky they’d been.

  Natty laid the flashlight on top of the bus and reached down to grab Geneva under her arms as Gabe held the injured woman up to her. Then Gabe sprang up and suspended himself in the opening like a gymnast. He rocked forward slightly, pulling his legs up through the door. In an instant, he was standing over Natty, bending down through the door to take hold of Geneva and pull her out of the bus.

  Natty scrambled out onto the fender, tucked the flashlight into her waistband, and helped Gabe lower Geneva over the side. Gabe jumped down and lifted Geneva after him. Natty held on to Gabe’s arm to help him fight the current as he carried Geneva to shore.

  Sammy and Paul came bounding down the slope when they saw Natty come out of the bus, and, with Gabe’s help, they carried Geneva up to the road. It was a long, precarious hike, and when they finally reached the top, Natty felt a rush of relief and exhaustion. She was now aware of the pain that she’d ignored while escaping the bus. Gabe took off his wet sweatshirt and tucked it under Geneva’s head.

  Sammy’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Hey, Miz Oakes, how ’bout I run up to the power plant and get some help? Only ’bout a mile from here. They always got a security guard.”

  Natty looked up and down the dark road. “Okay, Sammy. We could be here all night waiting for someone to come along this road, and we need to get Neva to the hospital.” She handed him the flashlight. “Here, take this so you can see where you’re going. Gabe, why don’t you go with him, just in case.”

  “Sure, Miz Oakes,” said Gabe, glad to have a mission. The two boys jogged off, and Natty took off her warm-up jacket and wedged it underneath Geneva’s back.

  “Help will be here in a little while, Neva,” Natty said, squeezing the old woman’s bony hand. “You did a great job tonight. Nothing you could do about the road givin’ out.” Geneva scowled, angry at herself for losing control of the bus.

  Natty stood up and looked down at their mortally wounded bus lying in the cold stream, and she felt a wave of sadness. The old bus had taken them to a lot of soccer games over the years. The water level had risen a little higher and now churned violently against the front grille, splashing up onto the windshield. The headlights had finally gone out.

  She crossed her arms and walked a few steps up the road, trying to generate some warmth. All she had on now was a long-sleeved undershirt, which was wet, like everything else. She looked up to where the road had crumbled and thought about Sammy and Gabe. They’d be all right. They were tough, athletic kids and would probably be at the plant in a few minutes, the way they could run. The way they could run. Natty grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut. The way they could run! She felt her heart skip and was paralyzed by a shock of fear that racked her entire body.

  Oh, God, no! She struggled to breathe and bolted toward the shadowy figures of her team sitting along the shoulder of the road a few yards away. Natty didn’t have to count the bald heads to know. She felt the familiar stab of pain that was the memory of Annie. “Oh, dear God, how could I do this again?” she whimpered, looking frantically into the face of each of the kids—they were nearly indistinguishable in the dark with their bald heads.

  “Oh, my God!” she gasped, leaping to the top of the guardrail to look down at the submerged bus. She screamed in anguish and despair. “Em-ma!”

  Natty jumped out as far as she could, sliding, bouncing, and tumbling down the embankment, tearing her clothing and skin on rocks and roots. Halfway down, she fell and landed on her face, sliding over rocks and branches. She clawed her way over the large boulders at the edge of the stream and yelled again, “Emma, I’m coming!” before jumping into the icy water.

  The current was swifter now, and she was immediately thrown against some boulders, smashing her left knee. She couldn’t move her leg for a few seconds, so she floated with the current toward the rear of the bus, banging on the metal roof to let Emma know she was there. When she reached the back door, she pulled herself into the bus. “Emma? Emma, where are you?” she yelled over the noise of the water. She heard a small voice from the front.

  “Here, please. I’m stuck,” Emma managed weakly.

  Natty made her way forward along the windows, holding on to the seats for balance. “Hold on, Em, I’m coming,” she said, trying to sound confident. The water in the bus was now up to her knees. A few seats before she reached Emma, Natty’s left foot went through a window. She could feel the glass as it cut through her warm-ups and thought she might black out from the pain. Her left knee was stuck in the smashed window, surrounded by razor-sharp shards of glass. “Fuck. Shit. Goddamm it!” Natty gritted her teeth to manage the pain that worsened with every moment.

  “Natty?” Emma called out faintly.

  She heard the girl coughing and spitting out water. Oh, Jesus! Natty gritted her teeth and pulled her left leg up through the broken glass. She was free. She took one tentative step with her left leg and knew right away that it was useless, so she hopped forward on her right, pulling herself along by the seat handles. Then she saw Emma’s hand holding on to the top of the seat in front of her, to keep her head out of the water.

  “Okay, Em, okay,” said Natty, squeezing down into the seat beside her. She thought about how long Emma had been alone in the bus, holding on for her life. She must be exhausted. Natty wrapped her arm around the girl, holding her above the water. Emma sobbed softly and Natty kissed the top of her bald head.

  “My leg’s stuck,” cried Emma between sobs, “and it hurts. I thought I could get it out.”

  They sat huddled together in silence while Emma breathed deeply and relaxed her muscles. Then a familiar beeping came from over Natty’s head. She and Emma both looked up. The sound was coming from Natty’s athletic bag.

  Stretching her arm out as far as she could, Natty was able to just reach an edge of the canvas bag and pull it down. She struggled to unzip the long bag. Charlie’s phone glowed with a soft green light. “You expecting a call?” she asked. Emma giggled. Natty pressed the green button. “Charlie?”

  “Hey, how’s the championship, coach?”

  “Charlie, listen to me. The bus crashed on Cold Springs Road and went down into the stream—”

  “What? How did—”

  “Charlie!” Natty yelled. “We need help! I’m on the bus with Emma. Her foot’s stuck, and the bus is filling up with water. We’re right near the turnoff to the power plant.”

  “Okay, the pilot’s calling the plant now, and we’ll call the state police. I’m on the helicopter. We’re almost to Red Bone.”

  “Hurry, Charlie, I gotta go.” Natty put the phone back into the bag and tossed it up over the seat. She could feel the cold water swirling around them and knew that she needed to get busy. “Hold on again for a minute, Em. I’m going to see if I can get your leg free.”

  Emma reached up and grasped the seat handle once again. Natty squeezed out from behind her, crawling along the sidewall to the seat in front of Emma. She took a deep breath and plunged into the water, running her hands along Emma’s leg. She couldn’t see anything in the dark water, but she could tell that it was hopeless. Emma’s leg was wedged tightly into the small space.

  Natty crawled back to Emma, who released her grip on the handle and fell back against Natty, exhausted. The water was now up to Emma’s neck. “All right, Em, your leg’s locked in there, but help should be coming real soon. Sammy and Gabe ran up to the power plant. We just gotta sit tight and wait, okay?” Emma nodded. Natty could feel the girl’s body shiver. She pressed her cheek against Emma’s head and exhaled warm breaths onto her skin. “We’ll be ok
ay, Em,” Natty whispered.

  Natty closed her eyes for a few moments, holding Emma tight. Be calm, Natty told herself. Then Emma coughed and struggled to pull herself upright. The water was rising quickly. Natty pushed forward and raised Emma’s mouth another inch above the water, but she could see that it would be only a matter of minutes before Emma would be under. “Emma, pull yourself up, hard. I gotta find something for you to breathe through!”

  Natty moved as quickly as she could, trying not to scream from the excruciating pain. She stood on her right leg and tried to think where she might find something for Emma to breathe through. Then she saw her athletic bag but found nothing in it that would work.

  She stuffed the bag down behind Emma to help support her and hopped frantically toward the back of the bus. Jesus, give me a ballpoint pen, or a straw, or something! A McDonald’s straw! Shit, they should be all over the place. Natty plunged under the water and swept her hands along the bus, searching for one of the discarded cups. But she came up for air, gasping and empty-handed, and pushed herself back toward Emma.

  Emma’s right arm was still locked on the seat handle, but her face was underwater. Natty lunged for her. She pinched Emma’s nose shut with her right hand and covered the girl’s mouth with her own, exhaling while the girl desperately sucked in Natty’s air. Natty came up for another lungful of air, then pressed her lips tightly against Emma’s again. She repeated the process three more times.

  Natty had to come up for air and cough out some water she’d inhaled. She breathed in as deeply as she could but couldn’t catch her breath. She felt Emma’s hand pulling at her. Just as she prepared to plunge back into the water, a powerful beam of light entered the bus through the windows overhead, and she heard the roar of a helicopter.

  The beam of light illuminated Emma’s face underwater—she looked eerily pale. Natty gave Emma all of her air and came up panting. She struggled for breath, coughing, and then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw it. To her left, shining in the light of the helicopter’s spotlight, was the tournament trophy. Most of it was underwater, but Natty knew it was the answer to her prayers.

  She pulled the trophy from the water, holding on to one of the long plastic tubes that connected its base to the platform. She smashed the platform against the metal edge of a seat, sending the little soccer player flying. One of the plastic tubes she was after cracked open to reveal a metal rod. She grasped the underside of the base with her fingers and felt the tightly bolted nut and washer. Oh, my God! Don’t do this to me! She tried to turn the small nut with her wet fingers, but it wouldn’t move. Frantic, she smashed the trophy again and felt a little give in the plastic supports. Then she heard Emma’s hand splashing the water again.

  Natty dropped the trophy and lunged for Emma. She gave her air three more times, but it didn’t seem to help much. Emma wasn’t getting enough air from her. Natty reached down for the trophy as the light from the helicopter moved toward the back of the bus, forcing Natty to work in the dark. She pulled and twisted the trophy as violently as she could, then she felt Emma’s hand grabbing her leg. But Natty was out of breath from her exertion, and when she went back down to Emma, there was no air left in her lungs.

  Natty exploded out of the water, gasping for air and sobbing in despair. Over and over she smashed the trophy as hard as she could, until she felt it crack. Then she had one of the foot-long plastic tubes in her hand. She dove back toward Emma and pushed the tube between her lips. Emma coughed up through the tube. “C’mon, Em,” she pleaded, tears filling her eyes. “You can do it, Em. Breathe, Emma, breathe!”

  Finally, Emma’s coughing became less violent, and Natty could feel the girl’s body expand as her lungs filled with air. With a deafening roar, another light moved over them, illuminating the entire bus. Natty looked up and could see another helicopter—bigger and louder than the first one, with two huge floodlights on its underside. Natty squeezed Emma’s hand under the water and smiled down at her. Emma was several inches underwater now, but the end of the tube was far above the surface, and help was only minutes away.

  Natty pulled herself up, trying to get a view of the road, now awash in red and blue flashing lights. Flashlights were bouncing down the embankment, and she tickled the back of Emma’s head to let her know it was almost over. But, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something moving outside.

  She stared through the right half of the windshield that was still above water, convinced it was a bad joke her oxygen-deprived mind was playing on her. She blinked her eyes, but it was still there, fifty yards away, higher than the top of the bus—a wall of black water, rolling toward them. Natty closed her eyes and put her cheek against Emma’s forehead.

  The wave, with its deadly cargo of stones, sand, and tree limbs, smashed through the windshield, filling the bus with muddy, boiling water. It picked up the bus and sent it screeching and banging over the rocks and careening down a ten-foot waterfall to deeper, slower water, where it rolled onto its top. It continued downstream another twenty yards until it hit the submerged trunk of a white oak and came to a stop, its tires just breaking the surface of the water like the paws of a drowned possum. The current slowly turned the bus sideways against the stream, and then it was still.

  * * *

  THROUGH THE RAIN, Buck could see the flashing blue lights far ahead. In his rearview mirror, he saw more flashing lights and knew something had happened to the bus. He pressed the accelerator to the floor. Then he saw the helicopters hovering over the stream. Buck parked across the road, left the engine running and the heater on for Zack, and jumped over the guardrail.

  * * *

  NATTY OPENED HER eyes, but she couldn’t see anything and she couldn’t tell which way was up. She floated slowly through the water, desperate for air, her lungs ready to explode. Then there was light from outside, dim at first, coming through the windows below her, and she could now see her bubbles rising to her left. She pushed off with her right leg and followed a bubble up toward the floor of the bus, overhead. Natty reached out and found the edge of something hard. She pulled herself up and pressed her face, her nose and mouth, against the hard rubber matting on the floor of the bus, tasting the grit but finding no air.

  Natty floated down through the murky water and felt warm again. She smiled and even had to giggle, letting out small bubbles, when she saw her, finally, after so many years in her dreams. Annie reached down to Natty, her small fingers curved and still. Her chin was up and her mouth open slightly. She looked so relaxed and content, her dark eyes opened wide and unmoving, as Natty came closer, touching her hands, then kissing her softly on the forehead. Natty closed her eyes. Oh, Annie, I’ve missed you so much. Suddenly Natty was drifting away from her sister, down through the dark water, unable to stop herself. She reached out for Annie’s hands, but she was gone.

  * * *

  BUCK PULLED NATTY through the door and thrust her lifeless body up to the waiting hands of the paramedics on top of the bus. They used Buck as an operating table, with him down on all fours in the water flowing over the bus. The medics pushed hard on Natty’s back, then turned her over and pumped her chest while they forced oxygen into her lungs. Finally, she coughed, then coughed again, and the medics flipped her over. She gagged and vomited a stomachful of brown water onto the back of Buck’s neck.

  Two hours later, after all the children had been taken away, and the police cars and the TV truck had left, when the helicopters had gone and one ambulance and a fire truck remained, two firemen in scuba gear returned to the bus with an acetylene torch, cut away the iron stanchions of the seat, and removed Emma Lowe’s body.

  CHAPTER 35

  Hank was seated on the bench in front of the store, waiting, when Charlie came out. The old man wore his brown suit and faded white shirt, the only suit Charlie had seen him wear. They presented quite a contrast, with Charlie in his expensive Joseph Abboud suit, but Charlie didn’t care, and neither would Hank. They’d each dressed as finely as they could,
to express as much respect as possible on a day when words would be difficult to come by.

  They walked slowly up Main Street without talking. A cold autumn wind ruffled Charlie’s hair and made his eyes water. Hank’s white locks were pulled back into a tight ponytail, tied with a black ribbon that fluttered in the breeze. They walked past the Spur, the gin mill still dark at ten in the morning, and the United Mine Workers of America storefront.

  They walked past Depot Street, its pavement cracked and crumbling, still laced with the brown weeds of summer, now waiting for the frost to finish them off. Charlie stopped and looked uphill toward the rusting hulk of the old coal tipple at the base of Red Bone Mountain. He thought about the thousands of faceless immigrants who had trudged up the hill for so many years to work in the mine and the poor black men like Woody and Mr. Jacks who had worked their whole lives in the mines and ended with nothing but broken bodies and tired minds.

  Hank asked, “Whatcha thinkin’, Burden?”

  Charlie turned to Hank. “Thinking that Alice DeWitt was right: There is a lot of heartache in these mountains.”

  Hank was still for a second, then resumed walking up Main Street. “Had our share,” he said softly.

  Past Depot Street was the old-homes section of Main Street—the once-grand three-story homes built in the thirties for the mining-company managers, merchants, and professionals of the day. Today they were run-down relics, most in need of paint and new roofs, some needing quite a bit more. The oaks and sugar maples in the front yards were bigger now than when the children of the mine managers played under them, their old roots pushing up through the weeds.

  At the next corner, Sammy Willard was seated on the front steps of one of the better-kept homes. He wore a suit jacket several sizes too small.