THE FLOOD…PART 2:
JUST A LITTLE MORE…
Joimus liked saving the plants she could. They were delicate things, with
long, thin stems that bent in the strengthening wind and those which had
survived the cattle had already been beaten down rather badly by the recent
pounding rains. Their petals were fragile, almost transparent, and she wanted to
transplant them to a more sheltered area. A particularly large, fine plant grew
between two big slabs of rock right at the edge of the bank. That one she wanted
to save especially as she was studying pollination and the production of her own
seeds.
She'd already slung the carrier over Buttermilk's back because the rain had
started to pelt down in earnest, but when she saw that one plant, she figured
she might as well get it, too, as she couldn't get any wetter than she already
was. "Wouldn't you know," she said to the plant in that way she had of often
addressing inanimate things directly, "that you'd be growing in the most awkward
place of all."
Indeed, she had to go right to the edge of one of the rock slabs and lean down
to dig carefully around the plant’s roots with her trowel. "Just a little
more...," she murmured, stretching to dig on the far side of the flower without
damaging it.
The rain paused, not more than a hiccup of a few minutes, but it encouraged her
to reach further. The sodden ground under the rock slab gave way and she, the
anemone, the rock, and a huge portion of the bank all slid abruptly down toward
the stream. Everything was a whirl of motion, punctuated by a sharp blast of
pain, then she found herself lying on her back, almost completely upside down,
the top of her head mere inches from the stream.
Blinking, she tried to make sense of what had happened. The wet dirt of the bank
covered her up to her collar bones and atop that lay the slab itself. The deep
layer of dirt acted as a buffer between her and the weight of the rock, but her
right arm seemed to be pinned beneath her body. Her left was free and she pushed
at the rock, a futile effort as it was a foot thick and almost four feet long.
"HELP!" she hollered several times, but knew she was way too far away for anyone
to hear. The yelling hurt, too, hurt the middle of her body and she figured she
must have bruised several ribs. At least that's what it felt like.
Then the rain began again and the entrapment yielded a new and more terrifying
horror. The rain sluiced down the relatively smooth top of the flat rock right
into her face. Quickly she covered her lower face with her hand, pinching her
upturned nose shut, trying to make a tent with her palm so that she could still
get some breaths of air through her mouth. The rain poured over her hand, across
her eyes, forcing her to shut them and making her hair stream downwards into the
swirling red of the waters below.
Minutes passed, long drawn-out minutes, and the rain only grew heavier. The
minutes became an hour, then two, then three. She felt on the verge of passing
out but knew if she did, she would simply drown, drown upside down in the rain.
So she willed herself to stay aware, fought for it with each heavy minute. From
time to time her arm cramped, letting her hand slip and her mouth and nose were
flooded with water.
Paul drove the bulldozer and Maximus, Cort, and Mac used shovels, desperately
trying to raise the level of the ground along the end of the pond. They worked
steadily in the pouring rain, backbreaking hour after backbreaking hour. The
rain simply would not stop and the streams feeding into it brought with them the
downpours from the mountains as well. Their boots slid in the mud and Maximus'
leg began to throb with a deep ache. Night came and still they worked in the
beams of battery-powered lights.
Losing his footing, Maximus fell heavily to his knees, and Cort gripped his
upper arm. "Maximus, you can't do this all night!" he shouted over the roar of
the bulldozer and the pounding rain. "Let Paul and the dozer keep on if you
must, but you've got to rest...at least for a little while...let Joimus feed you
something."
Maximus looked up at Cort, whose face was streaked with mud, lined with fatigue.
He sighed. "Perhaps you are right, my friend. For just a moment, though. Just a
moment."
They rode side by side back to the stable. "I shall check on the foaling before
going up to the house," he said once they were inside and unsaddling. When the
horses had been rubbed down and settled in with grain, Cort walked with Maximus
back to where East
was proudly watching over the just-born foal. Maximus smiled wearily, pleased
that the difficult birthing had come out well. "We shall be going up to the
house for something to eat," he explained to East. "I am sure Joimus will be
relieved to see us."
East was surprised and asked if Joimus had come back with them. "No, she was not
with us," Maximus replied. "Is she not in the house at this time of night?"
East explained how she'd saddled Buttermilk some hours ago and that he'd thought
she was riding after them. Maximus strode to Buttermilk's stall. Empty. His hand
gripped the top rail tightly. East had been tending the mare, had not seen her
ride away, had no idea of the direction she'd taken, only that she had not come
back. He hadn't worried, presuming that she was with Maximus and Cort. Silently,
his jaw set grimly, Maximus turned back to Legion.
…continued
