It continued to follow the base of the mountain then suddenly cut right and began to head south, moving out into the deeper jungle that had taken root and flourished in what had once been the open desert of Clark County bordering California. It picked its way almost daintily through the trees and thickets of the jungle; Emily could not see one tree uprooted, not one indication of any kind of disturbance or damage to the new vegetation. She was reminded of her father when she was a kid: he a keen gardener, she watching as he carefully maneuvered between the rows of cantaloupes, and tomatoes, and strawberries, and other vegetables, always wary of stepping on one of his prized plants. Yes, that was exactly it, there was a carefulness to the giant machine that seemed so out of place with its size and latent power.
As the machine grew distant, so the sound of its pounding mechanical legs faded only to be suddenly replaced by a louder, much more chaotic sound. The noise was coming from somewhere behind them, Emily realized. She turned just in time to see a stretch of the mountain above them crack and break.
Then, almost in slow motion, a massive slab of the mountain began to slide toward them.
“Run!” MacAlister shouted. Scrambling to his feet he sprinted across the ledge, his feet sliding on the loose gravel, and leaped off the side, landing roughly in the scrabble next to where Reilly and Thor had been waiting. But as Emily landed next to the Scotsman a second later, she could see Reilly already hightailing it away from the outcropping, dragging a reluctant, panicked Thor behind him. The malamute strained at the leash until finally, Reilly dropped it and continued on without him. Thor instantly began to run back toward Emily.
“Head for the forest,” MacAlister yelled through panting breaths, his voice almost lost in the rumbling clatter of the avalanche of rock behind them.
It was impossible to run directly down the side of the mountain, it was littered with too many large boulders to trip over, too many chuckholes to slide a foot into and snap an ankle. The only way to maneuver with any safety or certainty was with a sideways lope, like a deranged crab.
MacAlister was just six feet ahead of her, Reilly was already halfway to the border of the jungle. Thor was leaping forward then back again, barking loudly not at but toward Emily and the source of the thunderous roar that sounded as though it was just feet behind her.
She chanced a quick glimpse over her right shoulder and in that fleeting moment she saw what looked to her like a wave of rocks and boulders flowing across the ground toward her, not more than fifty feet away. The shingle and rocks in front of the tsunami of shattered mountain bounced and shook as it flowed like water down the slope, sending up a plume of gray dust that billowed into a cloud, blotting out the sky. Tiny splinters of crushed and shattered rock flew through the air ahead of the wave, smacking against the back of her jeans and jacket. An inch-long piece sliced across her cheek but her panicked mind did not even register the pain.
Thor’s rapid barking, barely audible over the roar as he sprinted ahead of her, his paws acting like a four-wheel drive on the treacherous terrain, drew her attention back to what she should be concentrating on: running for her life! She turned back just in time to see MacAlister throwing his hands out to his side as his foot slipped off a rock, he twisted to try to regain his balance but then fell and tumbled twice. She managed to leap over his rolling body, narrowly missing his head with her foot.
“I’m okay,” he yelled as she flicked her head in his direction. He was already back on his feet and running dangerously fast to make up the lost ground.
“Mac! Look out!” she yelled as a rough boulder, shaped like a soccer ball and about six times the size, broke free of the main wave of rock, speeding through the air toward MacAlister. Instinctively, he ducked, just as the boulder flew past him, bounced off the scree a few feet ahead of them, then careened crazily down the remaining slope, crushing a row of freshly sprung saplings in the half-naked approach to the jungle, before stopping between the blood-red roots of an alien tree.
MacAlister, his eyes wide with fear, grabbed Emily’s hand in his own as his longer legs ate up the distance between them.
“I can’t make it!” she pleaded, even as she forced her legs to move faster, her breath a steamy hiss between the slit of her lips. MacAlister ignored her, his only response was to squeeze her hand even tighter.
But then they were on flat ground and able to sprint full bore for the safety of the jungle, Thor leading the way ahead of them. The giant trunks, thick chaotic tangles of roots, and walls of brush had never looked inviting until now, the jungle their only hope of escaping the rushing avalanche that seemed so intent on burying them here forever.
Shards of rock began to smack into the ground around them like meteorites, impacting with the sound of shattered china.
Mac hissed in pain as he grabbed at his left elbow, a bloody stain already forming around the torn jacket where a dagger of flying rock had hit. “Just keep running,” he yelled as he dodged around the stump of a tree. “Don’t look back.”
The roar of the rock enveloped them entirely now, and ahead of them, Emily could see the fronds and leaves of the trees at the leading edge of the jungle vibrating and shaking. Reilly, with a hundred-foot lead, was already at the edge of the jungle. He looked back at them and Emily saw his eyes go wide before he climbed over a knot of black roots and disappeared past the tree line.
Emily’s breath was coming in short, rapid bursts, her lungs fighting to suck in air even as they inhaled the choking dust pushed ahead of the falling debris. The ground seemed to pitch and heave as the pressure wave from the millions of tons of rock following behind them raced ahead of the slide.
The blue sky vanished, replaced by the red hues of the jungle canopy before Emily even realized she had made it to the jungle’s edge. She leaped over a root, letting go of MacAlister’s hand so she could keep her balance. Thor landed beside her, ducking under another root and heading deeper into the forest, his leash trailing behind him. Oh, God, if that got caught on a root or a branch! She pushed the thought aside and managed three more strides before the sound of snapping branches and splintering tree limbs added to the roar of thunderous rock.
MacAlister dodged to the left, then vaulted over a root that was as thick as his body. Emily propelled herself over the same root, landed awkwardly as she tried to avoid a second limb obscured by the first, and succeeded only in tumbling headlong to the ground. She scrambled to her feet just as a wall of white dust enveloped her. Half-blinded she staggered forward, her hands thrown out ahead of her trying to feel her way, choking and coughing as the dust stung her eyes and filled her nostrils.
The rumbling of crashing rock and splintering trees grew; it seemed to come from all sides now as she staggered through the white fog of pulverized rock, unsure even whether she was still moving in the same direction or whether she was running back the way she had come from.
She stumbled forward.
Ahead of her, a shape materialized out of the white curtain that had descended over her; it was MacAlister. He was lying on the ground ahead and staring up at her. She could see his chest rising and falling in rapid succession. From somewhere she found a reserve of energy, enough to sprint to his side. She grabbed his outstretched hand and began to pull him.
“Get up, Mac,” she yelled. “Get up.” He didn’t move. She could see his lips moving but the words made no sense to her. She yelled again, tugging harder, “Get up… please!” she pleaded.
Again his lips moved, but this time she heard him over the buzzing pounding in her head and the plug of dust and dirt that had clogged almost every orifice of her face, including her ears.