THE FLOOD…PART 3:
EDGE OF THE HIGH BANK
It was harder in the night. The waterfall over the rock came in darkness,
making her feel entirely isolated, entirely entombed. She was getting very tired
and the pain in her middle seemed to be growing as the hours passed. Then, too,
the water just below her head was rising as it carried rain down from the
mountains. She could feel it touching the top of her head now. Frantically she
tried to wriggle her body, but the weight of the rock atop the dirt permitted
her no movement at all.
The rain kept up all night. There had never been a night so long. She'd feel
herself begin to drift, her hand would fall away, and instantly she'd be choking
and gagging. I am going to hang on, she willed. I am! Maximus would not
find his wife dead. No, she would not have that. Not him. Not…again.
Maximus was exhausted, yet he rode all night long, shining his light into the
darkness. Where would she go? Why? His head jerked forward and he found Cort
afoot, retrieving his light. "Sorry," he mumbled, taking it from Cort's hand.
He'd fallen asleep in the saddle.
Cort knew better than to suggest they wait for daylight. If Joimus were out
here, then Maximus would be out here. They were riding slowly now through a
broader expanse of woods that would put them out nearer the house again. "Just
check," Cort suggested. "Maybe she's come home."
At the gate, Maximus assented and they went inside, going from room to room,
calling her name. It was empty except for Merry, who had peed on the kitchen
floor and had shredded five of Cort's socks. While Cort let her out and then fed
her, Maximus brewed some coffee, filling two thermos bottles. Stuffing some
bread and cheese into their mouths, they led their mounts down to the stables to
check there. Buttermilk's stall was still empty and East was gone, out looking
for Joimus himself. The distant sound of Paul's bulldozer came to Maximus' ears,
but he'd stopped caring about the pond. He had to find Joimus. Nothing else
mattered. Nothing. Mounting, he found himself thinking of his desperate ride
from the Danube to Spain. No, this night’s journey would not be like that, would
not end like that. There were no Praetorians paralleling him. There was merely
the rain. He would find her and she would be fine, but he could not seem to keep
his teeth from gritting together as he rode.
He and Cort went back toward the wheat field. They'd been there once, finding no
trace of her, but were running out of places to look. The rain was still steady,
but somewhat less heavy as dawn came, a weak, watery, grey dawn with no color to
it. Maximus shivered, soaked to the bone. Had she found some shelter, he
wondered? At least in some trees possibly? There was that one area of trees up
the ridge beyond the wheat they hadn't checked yet. Could she have gone that
far? Why would she go there? What could...? Then he remembered the carrier she'd
been making for the anemones and spurred Legion to a faster pace.
There in the middle of the wheat stood Buttermilk, still saddled. Maximus
practically flung himself off Legion. "Joimus!" he called. "Joimus!" He reached
Buttermilk and looked all around for some sign of his wife in the wheat. Had she
fallen? But there was only her horse, nothing else.
"What are these?" Cort asked, touching the carriers across Buttermilk's back.
The containers were filled with plants, beaten by rain, and muddy water dripped
in a constant flow down the horse's sides.
"For her flowers," Maximus whispered. "She was gathering plants." It was what
he'd thought just a moment ago. He broke one of the blossoms off, looking at it,
not knowing its name. She'd spoken to him of some sort of wild flower she'd seen
up near that far copse, how she'd wanted to save them before they were all
ruined. Lifting his head, he looked in that direction, barely able to make out
the trees in the far distance. "Up there," he said, his voice hoarse. "That is
where these grow. Up there." His chest tightened.
Buttermilk had been on her way home…without Joimus.
The two men mounted, Cort leading Buttermilk, and headed quickly along the path
through the wheat. Before they reached the copse, the rain stopped and a single
finger of morning sunlight poked through.
It took a minute for Joimus to realize the rain had stopped. She was so
exhausted, so foggy by then, so enclosed into the tight little world of her own
mind, of her concentration on the effort of surviving the night, that the
ability to breathe through her nose again seemed absolutely removed from her
reality. Finally she blinked her eyes open, greeted by the sight of the one
sunbeam. She almost smiled, but then realized
the stream waters had risen up to her eyebrows. As she waited, she could feel it
steadily creeping higher and knew she'd be forced to close her eyes again soon.
Then what? She'd survived the waters from above her. Would she now drown in the
waters from below? There was nothing she could do to prevent that, not like she
had with the waterfall off the rock.
"Maximus," she murmured, spent. "Oh, Maximus." Oh, God…not a second time,
not for him. Her left arm fell to her side, her forearm and hand floating on the
water by her head. She couldn't fight any more, not even had there been
something for her to do. Too worn even to be afraid, she let her will go, let it
float away with the other debris on the red current, her head lolling to the
side.
Maximus and Cort reached the edge of the high bank above the rivulet, which had
become a swiftly-flowing stream. They dismounted, looking both ways along the
banks, seeing nothing. Maximus sank to one knee in the grass, covering his eyes
with his hand, Cort standing immediately to his right. Suddenly Cort sucked in
his breath with a sharp gasp, gripped Maximus' shoulder, his fingers sinking
deeply into flesh.
"There," he said, his grip tightening even more.
…continued
