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Chapter Twenty-Two

JACK

T he deck of the boat kept swaying as the wind and rain lashed at my face. The sail of the boat had come loose, and it was covering my face. I flailed my arms to get it off, but it kept covering me, suffocating me. A voice kept calling my name, but I couldn’t find where it was coming from. An octopus slithered up on deck and grabbed hold of my foot. I yelled and kicked out.

I sat up with a start. The mosquito net over my bed was wet as it flapped against my face. Ava was standing at the end of the cot. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, but the storm came early.”

Behind her, the canvas flap snapped back and forth in the wind like the loose sail in my dream. I sat up straighter. “So, you’re the octopus.”

She shrugged. “Been called worse things.”

I rubbed the grogginess from my head and looked over at Norm and Evan. They were both hastily shoving their things into their packs. I swung my legs over the cot.

“Harold and Mia are on their way,” Ava continued as she tied up the mosquito net. There was just enough wind pushing through the three-sided shelter to make that task difficult. One good gust ripped the gauzy net in two.

I stood up and realized I was only wearing boxers. Ava smiled and turned away so I could pull on my shorts and shirt. “I think Pam and Milo should go first. Milo is still itchy and miserable, and Pam, well, she’s just miserable. I asked everyone else, and they agreed. I’ll let you get dressed.” She walked out.

Things were still strained between us, but the next few hours would be harrowing enough that we’d have to put our differences aside. I still wasn’t entirely sure why our friendly, almost flirty, moment had gone south so fast, but I supposed it wasn’t all that surprising given our history—a history that started and took on a life of its own without any catalyst or deep-seated reason. It had been that way between us since day one, and no matter how hard Brimley tried to make us cooperative coworkers, it just wasn’t in the cards. And for some reason that really felt like a gut punch, but I didn’t have time to analyze that because a severe storm was about to sweep through, and it didn’t look like the mild rainstorm Harold predicted.

A tree branch shot past the shelter, reminding me of a witch’s broom flying through the air.

“Did you see that?” Evan’s eyes were round. “That must have been a six-foot branch.”

“We’re going to get clobbered,” Norm stated. It might have been the most astute thing he’d said all week.

“You two finish packing. I’m going to venture outside and get a sense of what’s happening.” I pulled on my boots.

“Lots of rain and wind, that’s what’s happening,” Norm said. “I hope we get out of here before the river floods.” On second thought, that was the most astute thing he’d said. I’d been worried about wind and flying debris, but a swollen river escaping its banks was a much bigger danger. The wind had been stealing the spotlight from the torrential rain that was being pulled in every direction by the gusts. But there was no mistaking that water was falling from the sky in sheets.

The camp already looked as if it had been trampled by giants. The sitting logs were in disarray, and our firepit had been washed away entirely. The only remnant of our bonfires was a gray, sludge-filled stream running from the pit down toward the river. I raised my arms above my head to shield my face from flying debris. The wind was relentless, and it made it hard to navigate my way to the next hut. I needed to check on Milo and Ian to make sure they were getting ready for evacuation.

The clouds above were so dark and heavy it seemed that if I stood on tiptoes, I could reach them. They’d settled directly over us, and I couldn’t find a break or spot of blue amongst them.

Milo was giving his mottled arm a good scratch as I brawled with the canvas door and found my way into the shelter. Ian was busy packing. He saw me first. “Professor, crazy weather, eh? Looks like our expedition is going to be cut short.” Ian looked far more disappointed than Milo about that. His allergic reaction to guava had taken the wind out of his enthusiasm, and I couldn’t blame him.

A gust blew in that was so strong it felt as if the shelter might lift away. Ian and Milo instinctively grabbed the edges of their cots as if the light, collapsible beds might keep them from flying off. “I think we’re about to land in Oz,” Milo said.

We eased our tension with a good, short laugh.

“I’m all right waiting for the next ride out,” Milo said. “That way the women can go first. You know, like on the Titanic .”

Ian glanced over at him. “You are obviously missing your television set, Milo. I know Robyn, and she’d be insulted if you told her she could go first because she’s a woman. And then what about Professor Lovely?”

“Ian’s right. I don’t think we want to open that Pandora’s Box. We’ve got enough to worry about. Finish packing and stay within these three walls as much as possible. I don’t think they’ll be heading to Oz anytime soon. I’m sure they’ve withstood worse. I’m going to find Professor Lovely so we can solidify the evacuation plan.”

I took advantage of a short lull in the wind to head across to the mess tent. Its great canvas walls billowed in and out like the sails on a pirate ship. I hadn’t been cold the entire trip, but something about the raw wind and rain pummeling me all at once gave me a chill. I bent down, covered my head with my arms and hurried toward the mess tent. Opening the flap against the wind was like holding an umbrella on a windy day. Once I yanked it open, the flap of canvas pulled me hard to the side. I stumbled and righted myself before I landed in one of the many puddles starting to form at the campsite.

Ava was trying to pull together some beans and eggs as the tent seemed to inflate and deflate around her like a balloon. Somehow, through the clamor, she heard me step inside. She looked back over her shoulder. “Are you hungry?” She seemed annoyingly calm considering we were sitting in the middle of a wild storm.

“I think I’m all right. When do you think Mia and Harold will get here?”

She glanced at the watch on her wrist. “They should be here soon, but that all depends on how much trouble they run into on the trail. Harold assured me they’d ridden through some pretty bad storms. He said the trail is dug so that water runs off toward the river instead of gathering up on the road.”

A loud snap outside finished with something sharp jamming itself into the canvas just above our heads. Ava peered up. “That was close. I haven’t looked at the river since I talked to Harold. It had only gone up a few inches back then, but those banks aren’t more than three feet high.”

“I think the campsite is built high enough to avoid a flood, even if it does breach its banks,” I said. “I suppose that’s why they picked this clearing for a camp. I’ve been on a few expeditions that were cut short before—food poisoning, running short on water supply and even a massive dust storm that came out of nowhere and covered all of us, our belongings and our equipment with a fine dust, but this is my first time in a squall. Never seen so much rain falling at once.”

Ava stirred the beans in the pot. “It’s a good one. That’s for sure. But I’ve been in worse, and like you said, we’re up high enough to avoid flooding.”

“Maybe it’s safer for us to all stick it out here.” The second I said it, another big branch smacked the mess tent. This time it tore a hole in the thick canvas. “Or maybe not.”

Ava lifted her finger. “Shh, did you hear that?”

“Uh, the hurricane force winds or the torrential rain?” I asked.

Ava rolled her eyes. “The distinctive, high-pitched rumble of a dirt bike.” She walked a wide berth around the hole and the branch that was now jammed through it.

“How on earth did you hear that?” I asked and followed behind her.

We hunched forward and made our way to the river. It was halfway up the banks, and while it was just a tributary, it was rolling along fiercely and churning up its own storm with waves and froth. The rickety bridge we crossed to get to camp was swinging and slithering side to side like a snake, the river moving quickly beneath it. Ava reached the top edge of the bank and took one step too far. The dirt beneath her foot collapsed. Her arms flailed as she tried to keep from slipping down into the rapidly moving water. My arm snaked around her waist, and we stumbled back together.

“Thanks,” she said breathlessly. “This ground is soaking up water too fast. Even the camp could be in danger of sliding downhill if it doesn’t let up soon!” She had to yell to be heard through the chorus of noise around us.

Through the falling debris and heavy rain, the mud-covered dirt bikes came into view. Harold got off his bike. He didn’t think twice about jumping onto the wildly swaying bridge. He gripped it tightly and marched across like a pro. Ava and I tromped over to meet him. Our shoes grew heavy from mud with each step. We reached our end of the bridge as Harold stepped off. He was covered head to toe in yellow rain gear.

“We can take two back with us.” He spoke loudly. “Then we’ll turn right back around for the next two. We should have all of you out in three hours. The storm came in much faster than we expected, but we can get all of you back safely. I’m sure of it.”

“I’ll go get Pam and Milo,” Ava said. She ducked down and made her way back to the shelters.

“I’m worried about this river,” I said.

Harold nodded as he looked back at it. “The camp is built up high, so it’ll be fine.”

“What about this bridge?”

“It’s been here for fifty years and has seen much worse. It’ll hold. Ah, looks like our first two passengers have arrived.”

Pam reached the bridge with an enthusiastic gait, especially considering the weather, but her steps faltered greatly when she saw the unsteady bridge stretched across the swollen river. Water occasionally lapped up over the top of it.

“Isn’t there another way across?” Pam asked hopefully.

“Not unless you have wings,” Harold said with a laugh. Pam wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

Milo took hold of her hand. “I won’t let go. Just hold on tightly.” He took the first step, gripping her hand as he moved. Pam followed. Ava and I both held our breath until they were safely across. Seconds later they were on the backs of the bikes. Harold waved and they took off.

“Two down, four to go,” Ava said.

“You mean six to go.” I squinted up at the sky. It was still as dark as charcoal, and there’d been only a few breaks in the wind and rain, none long enough to give the land and river a chance to absorb the extra moisture. “Guess I will have some of those beans. I think it’s going to be a long morning.”