The sheriff smiled, and flicked a switch on the gun. A powerful beam shone out from a top-mounted flashlight, just for a second or so before he switched it off.
“Best to save it until we really need it,” the big man said.
The trapped man spoke.
“There’s spare clips in my vest. Probably best if you have them too.”
Doc helped the man shuck off the flak vest. Big Bill managed to put it on, a tight fit over his large frame.
“Anything else in the truck we can use?” the sheriff asked.
The trapped man tried to speak, coughed, and bubbled blood down his front. He wiped it away, and finally spoke.
“Nope. Sorry. All the good stuff is back at base camp. But don’t worry. They’ll get us out soon enough.”
Doc turned away from the soldier. She looked worried.
“Did they say how long they’d be?”
The sheriff shook his head. Doc leaned over and whispered in the sheriff’s ear. Fred didn’t need to be a lip-reader to catch her gist.
He’s not going to make it.
Ellen Simmons chose that moment to do something stupid again.
“Well, I’m not waiting here. We were nearly at the town limits. It can’t be far.”
She walked off into the gloom. Charlie shone the flashlight after her, lighting her up and throwing a huge shadow up the hill. The woman scrambled up the slope of stone and earth left by the collapse, each step bringing fresh falls of rock and rubble.
“Ellen,” the sheriff shouted. “Get your ass back here. You’re going to bring it all down around us.”
The woman showed no signs of hearing him. Her scrambling got more frantic as it became obvious she was achieving little more than climbing in the same spot as more pebbles and dirt tumbled around her.
“I’ll get her,” Charlie said, when the sheriff moved to head in that direction. The older man walked over and started to clamber after the woman, the flashlight waving wildly as he climbed. Fred heard Charlie shout.
“You really are a stupid bitch, Ellen.”
The only other sound was the rapidly growing tumble and rush of dirt as the pair scrambled up the slope.
“Get back here,” the sheriff shouted. “It’s not safe.”
The woman started to slide backward, sending more rock and dirt sliding.
“Grab her, Charlie,” Fred shouted.
Charlie lunged for her.
He was too late. The slope gave way; Fred didn’t know who had been the cause. The air suddenly filled with the roar of falling rock and the taste of dirt and dust. Somebody screamed. The beam of Charlie’s light cut off abruptly, and they were left again in near darkness, only the dashboard lights providing a hellish red glow off to Fred’s left.
He felt a hand take his, just as the sheriff switched on the rifle light.
“Everybody okay?” the sheriff asked.
Sarah squeezed Fred’s hand.
“We’re good here.”
“Charlie?” Fred asked.
The sheriff shone the light towards the site of the latest rock fall. A new hole had formed just yards in front of their position. It fell away into blackness far below. There was no sign of either Charlie, or the Simmons woman. Fred and the sheriff walked over to the collapsed area. The sheriff shone the light down. Apart from rock walls and dirt, there was nothing to be seen.
“Charlie?” Fred shouted. His voice echoed back at him, and there was an answering scrambling from far below. He peered into the dark, hoping for a glimpse of light to show that Charlie was still there, still capable of using the flashlight. There was only more darkness.
“Charlie!” Fred shouted again. He may even have jumped down into the new hole had Big Bill not put a hand on his shoulder, just as another slide of rock and pebbles crashed down into the deep.
Silence fell.
“Charlie?” Fred said, barely able to manage more than a whisper.
“Ain’t nobody coming back up out of there,” the sheriff said softly.
Fred looked down again, and was forced to agree.
Charlie’s gone.
Later, Fred might have time to process the fact, but for now he immediately found himself being thankful that the Simmons woman wouldn’t be around to bitch and moan, then just as quickly was ashamed of himself for having the thought.
“What now, Bill?” he said.
The sheriff was still peering down the hole.
“We wait. Help is on its way.”
You sure of that, big man?
Fred thought it, but didn’t voice it.
A shuffle in the dirt behind them made them turn around. Doc stood there, the bottle of JD at her lips.
“Shouldn’t you save that for your patients?” Sarah asked.
Doc took another swig, then passed the bottle to Fred.
“I’ve got no patients left. They’re dead, both of them.”
In less than a minute, their numbers had been halved, from eight to four.
Fred took the bottle from Doc, and wished they had several more like it.
21
Janet wished she’d held on to the JD bottle. Her mouth and throat tasted of dust and death, and she knew it would be a long time before she forgot the sight of life leaving the young soldier’s eyes. Mullins had gone seconds after that without regaining consciousness. Janet had only just been able to see the woman’s face in the red glow afforded by the dashboard lights, but that was enough. Her eyes, sunk back and black in the gloom, stared, unblinking at the ceiling before Janet bent over and gently closed them.
She felt helpless, her mind taking her back to a hospital internship where patients had died on her watch while she tried to save them. She felt the same sense of despair and frustration now as she had then.
But at least back then I knew why; drunk drivers, crack addicts, just plain accidents. But here, now? I don’t have a clue as to what or why.
She couldn’t see that situation changing anytime soon. She moved to stand beside Bill, and put an arm around the big man’s waist, taking what comfort she could from the solid, steadfast man. Fred swigged from the JD, and passed the bottle around. Both Bill, and the girl, took a share, but Janet waved it away.
If I really wanted oblivion, there’s plenty of morphine left in the field kit.
Bill still had the rifle light switched on. He panned it around, finally allowing them to see exactly where the truck had ended up.
They stood in a rough chamber, some thirty feet below the level of the road. Any chance they might have had of clambering out had gone in the most recent rock fall. Now it looked like the sides were nearly sheer, and still crumbling. On the far side of the truck were two darker patches in the shadow.
Caves?
The only sound was a rustle of fresh falls of dirt tumbling into the hole below them.
“How long, do you think?” Janet asked Bill.
“Ten minutes, tops, from when we talked,” he said. “They’ll be here any minute.”
They stood, huddled close together, waiting for a sound or a light from above to tell them that help was at hand.
None came.
“I think we’ve got to assume they’re not coming,” Bill said twenty minutes later. He’d tried the radio three times in that period, and got nothing but static in reply. He put the radio away in a pocket of the flak jacket.
Janet felt panic rise up, and pushed it away.
Now is not the time.
“Can we climb?” she asked.
“I don’t see how,” Bill replied. “It’ll crumble under our weight as soon as we try. There are no obvious handholds, and it’s too steep anyway. I think our only chance is to go through there.”